Our weighted breaths are thunderous. And with each passing second, the squall settles and dissipates. But come tomorrow, I have a feeling this is just the beginning of the storm that will devour us both.
THIRTY | TARYN
“Oooh, what’s this one?” Elena points at the Pinterest pin I pulled up on the desktop computer in the office downstairs. “That looks fun!”
I tilt my head and grin, analyzing the craft photo. “You think so?”
Her palms clap together in enthusiastic interest. “Yeah.”
I drag the bar down, scrolling through more pictures. Brightly painted rocks flash across the screen, their smooth surfaces decorated with patterns, others with complex images and inspirational sayings.
Finding an entertaining activity to amuse the kids today was a top priority since it’s the second day Jessica is gone, and Bren and Cam still haven’t returned from Seattle. Luckily, they should be back tomorrow.
I’m looking forward to it.
Their presence may settle the tension between my ribs.
This silent game transpiring between Colten and me is already making me go haywire.
Well, I guess I can’t judge our interactions as silent, considering I’ve only seen him once since last night. He dartedinto the kitchen to grab some mail off the counter and bolted straight out back to work before I even blinked.
After getting more…accustomed to each other in more ways than one last night, he cleaned me up in the kitchen and encouraged me to drink a bunch of water. He gulped down several glasses before we returned to his room to collect our clothes. Honestly, I think it was a nervous quirk to keep his brain from detonating. I gathered that much from how one hand was grasped on the counter, the other was clutching the water glass, and his daunting stare was trained on the apple marked by my teeth.
Only a few words emerged from his mouth here and there, asking if I was all right and if he hurt me. For a guy who craves control, he gets awfully quiet and sensitive afterward.
The silence stretched between us, and after a few minutes, I took it as my cue to leave. He didn’t have to say anything for me to know that he was uncomfortable with me staying—his tense shoulders and rigid posture were loud enough. He was a gentleman, though, and escorted me back to the house.
Or maybe he didn’t trust me to not bolt after what transpired between us.
Frustratingly, it was probably both.
As he walked me up the yard and to the back door, I couldn’t help but wonder if he regretted it. The last thing he said to me was good night, and then he pressed his lips to my forehead before I walked in and left him amongst the darkness. I returned to my room and collapsed on my bed, utterly exhausted from the way he commanded my body, stirring reactions I’ll never comprehend.
But this morning, I woke up with my lips stretched, jaw sore, and pussy aching from his ruthlessness—spurring the visions of him last night, which have been playing on a repetitive loop in my head.
His hands. His smooth voice. The way he delivered my orgasm with that damn apple shoved in my mouth like I was a pig on a silver platter ready to be consumed.
When I got up to use the bathroom, I found the bright pink pair of underwear I had stormed over with and a black strappy thong on my nightstand. On top was another note:
Bought these for you.
Only for you.
- C
I shift in the office chair, the wings of butterflies vehemently scraping against my stomach lining at the simple thought of him sneaking into my room sometime in the middle of the night and delivering the note.
Unless he came early this morning before he went to work?
He sometimes gets up to go to work at five a.m., but I was out cold. The floorboards groaning and squeaking stairs couldn’t even wake me from my satiated slumber.
If I’ve learned to sleep through the voices of crows perched on the gutter outside my window in the early morning hours, I can sleep through anything.
My right eye twitches.
Hmm.
I wonder if he watched me sleep.
