My eyes skate down her body before I snap them back to her face. She’s dressed in a pair of tartan pyjama shorts and a cropped T-shirt, her nipples hard against the fabric.
Fuck my life.
What is this woman trying to do to me?
“Hi,” I gruff out, turning and boiling the coffee pot.
The last thing I need to see is Mae in skimpy sleepwear, fresh from the bed sheets. My mind is wandering into enemy territory. And it feels fucking good… which isn’t ideal.
Because I wish it weren’t Poppy’s bed sheets she’d just slipped out of.
“Leo slept well,” she says, keeping her voice hushed, face a little drained from last night.
It had been the first time I’d seen her so vulnerable. Granted, my sister had pried far too much. It wasn’t fair, and I’m definitely going to be having a word with her about pushing people too far.
I dip my chin at Mae’s comment as I turn towards her and pray that I don’t have a hard-on from thinking about waking her up with my lips on hers.
My hands on her waist.
Head between her legs.
“Yeah, Poppy’s great with kids.”
“I can tell. She’s great with everybody.”
My sister’s never had many friends growing up. Her brash personality often scares people off when she first meets them.
I’d noticed how her old friends would roll their eyes and look at each other with expressions that saidWhy are we friends with this girl?
It cut me deep to see her repeatedly dropped by people who didn’t understand her. Who didn’t value or accept her.
But Mae seems different.
She speaks to my sister compassionately and values what she has to say. She doesn’t make her feel bad for her views; she accepts her, quirks and all.
“I want to thank you for how you are with Poppy.”
Mae’s eyebrows arch. “What do you mean?”
“You accept her. You treat her like she’s an actual person.”
“Of course. Why wouldn't I?”
It confuses me how vastly different Mae is from her mother. In the beginning, I’d assumed she would be a little princess. A brat. Just like her flesh and blood. But she’s slowly proving me wrong.
The coffee pot behind me reaches its boiling point. But neither of us moves, and of course, she’s standing right in front of the cupboard where Poppy’s mugs are. I stretch my jaw as I take a few strides in Mae’s direction.
She looks up at me, pink lips popping open, and I’m concerned she’s going to drop the frosted glass of water she’s desperately clutching onto.
Her tits look incredible from this view, and I do my best to be a gentleman and avert my gaze. Even though I don’t want to. Even though all I want to do is drop my head and press my lips to the space where her neck meets her shoulder.
The tension is thick, our shared glance creating a buzz in the air that causes my eyebrows to collapse in on one another as I tower over her.
We’re so close.
Too close.
I lift my arm, my palm flat against the cupboard above her head, fingers slowly gripping onto the small knob.
