She placed her hands on her hips and fixed me with a steely glare. "Ryan? Eden and Barron's best friend? I know you've met him a few times because I've been present for them."
An image of a brown-haired, medium-built man flashed through my head. Oh, right.Ryan.
I flashed her a winning smile, the same one that guaranteed a willing woman every time I hit the town for a night out.
"Sorry, sweetheart, if it's not a gorgeous woman, then I usually don't retain random male names." I gave her a charming wink. "That's the reason I always remember you, beautiful."
Sofia stared at me a moment before shaking her head in bewilderment. "How are you related to Barron?"
The smile dropped from my face as a sharp arrow of hurt punctured me at her words.
Unaware that she had touched on an old insecurity, she spun back and continued towards her apartment door at the end of the hall. I woodenly followed, my demeanor defeated at the reminder that I was nothing like my cousin.
I loved Barron, and I was proud of his accomplishments. I wished we were still close like we were as kids. But I could also admit that I felt self-conscious whenever I was reminded that we were nothing alike.
Sofia gave another annoyed sigh as she opened the door to her apartment, letting me know how much I was inconveniencing her. She held it open for me and swept her hand across. "Hurry up before someone sees."
"Why, you got a boyfriend?" Pushing aside my wound, I sauntered by, brushing my chest against her shoulder. I hid a smirk as I felt her recoil back with a sharp inhale. Yeah, she wanted me.
"Wait here," Sofia curtly ordered before disappearing down the short hallway, presumably to find me some clothes. Or a knife to stab me with.
She never actually said how she'd help me.
I tightened my grip on the towel as I surveyed her space. The layout was the same as Maria's place.
The kitchen was by the door with matching mint-green colored appliances - a toaster, kettle, and waffle maker. Even her microwave matched.
The counters were clean, with little ceramic containers neatly lined up. Each was labeled with its contents - tea, coffee, and sugar.
It was a stark contrast to Maria's kitchen, which always had dirty dishes in the sink and bread crumbs on the counter.
Her couch was grey and U-shaped, taking advantage of the small space. It had mix-matched cushions in various shades of grey and tan.
As I moved further into the living room, I wriggled my toes against the large cream rug she had laid down. It gave the room a cozy and inviting atmosphere and felt like a cloud beneath my feet. Definitely comfy enough to lay on as Sofia rode me. Or gentle on my knees as I fucked her delectable ass from behind.
Before I could test the plumpness of her couch, a print on the far wall caught my eye. Behind her entertainment unit hung three long rectangular paintings, about two inches apart. It was an oil painting of a single nude woman spread over three canvases to provide a matching set.
The piece was stunningly gorgeous, something I wouldn't mind hanging in my own space.
As I admired the unique aesthetic, I padded closer to the painting, a familiar flicker of joy sparked inside me. The woman was lying on her side, leaning on her elbow with her hair gathered to one side, baring the curve of her swan-like neck.
Her back was to the artist, and her other arm rested softly on her outer thigh. She was painted in a warm yellow glow. The shadows played delicately on her back to enhance the outline of muscle and the two dimples which sat neatly above her buttocks. The background of the painting was slashes of blended blue, red, yellow, and white.
I spied small black writing at the bottom and leaned over the TV to read the artist's autograph. My eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"What are you doing?"
I swiveled around and flashed Sofia with a teasing grin. Instead of conversing about her artistic medium choice like I wanted, I went into a charm offensive. "I didn't know you liked to paint nudes. How much do you charge? I've had women tell me that my body's a work of art."
Sofia rolled her eyes before thrusting a folded stack of clothes at me. "Here. You two are about the same size, so these should fit."
I quirked a quizzical brow even though a flicker of unease settled in my stomach at her words. "The same size as who?"
"The owner of these clothes," she said, continuing to hold the folded clothes out to me.
"And who would that be? Your dad?"
Sofia's nose flared in anger. "My dad's dead."
