It’s not getting easier. I thought it would, but the pull she has on me is getting ridiculous.
I run a frustrated hand through my hair. I’ve been doing this a lot lately, and it’s not because I’m struggling to figure out this case I’m looking at.
She walks around in clothes that reveal too much skin, and she says things like they are a joke.
I huff and look over at the clock. It’s almost eight. I could stay and work for a few more hours, but I don’t want to.
When I get home, she’s not sitting on the couch, and most of the lights in the house are off. I’m pretty sure she’s here, since her car is in the driveway.
“Sloane?” I yell up the stairs.No answer.
I scrunch my brows in confusion and head deeper into the house. When I get to the kitchen, I’m confused by what I see.
String lights decorate the wood deck that covers the patio out by the pool. What I see in the pool has my mouth dry.
Sloane lies on her back, her hair floating out around her like a halo, making her look like an angel. I clench my fists and have to force myself to turn away from the window.
I quickly turn and head up the stairs to my room. I take a few minutes to organize my closet, putting some clothes away that have been sitting in the laundry basket for the last week. I take my time with my shower, trying to scrub everything clean, including my thoughts. Some of which are all but innocent. I’d hide in my office all night, but I’m hungry, and whatever she made in the kitchen smelled good. So against my better judgment, I go back into the main part of the house.
I grab a beer and pop the top. I avoid the window, instead focusing on heating up my food. When the microwave beeps, I grab a fork, my plate, and sit down at the counter. I should go sit in my office to avoid seeing her.But I don’t. I eat slowly. A few minutes later, the back door opens, then closes, and I freeze when I see her.
“Beckett!” she squeals, jumping when she realizes that she’s not alone. She looks at the clock and then back at me.“I didn’t think you’d be home for at least another hour,” she says, pulling her tiny towel tighter around her body.
“I got done early.”
She nods and dries off a little before stepping onto the tile of the kitchen.
“You decorated,” I say, forcing myself to take another bite of what she’s made, my throat feeling tight.
She goes to the sink and starts to do what few dishes are in there. She doesn’t say anything at first, and I can’t stop myself from staring at her.
“Yeah, I hope that it’s ok. You said to make myself at home, and since I’ll be here for awhile…” she trails off.
“It’s ok, I don’t mind,” I tell her honestly. I’ve always wanted to add something to the backyard. But I never use the space, so there was never really any point.
She puts the dishes away as she cleans them. I watch her carefully, admiring her, watching as water puddles beneath her.
She fills a tea kettle with water and sets it on the stove to boil.
“Would you like some?” she asks, finally turning to face me.
“Sure, that would be great, thanks,” I say, finishing up the food on my plate.I get up and move to put my dish in the sink. She doesn’t move as I stand behind her, gasping when I press myself up behind her to put my plate in the sink.
I’m not sure what I’m thinking, but watching her stand here, almost like she’s purposely daring me to do something, I find myself slipping out of control.
“What kind of game are you playing, Sloane?” I whisper, my breath just barely grazing her neck. My arms on either side of her, trapping her against the counter.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” she says, her voice confident, but there’s a soft tremble to her hands as she holds the counter. When her eyes find mine, she looks almost…excited.
“I think you do. You walk around all day in these little outfits. You think you’re being sly with it, but I see the way you look at me, Sloane,” I whisper, fighting the urge to press myself fully against her, to grab her hips, to press my lips into the crook of her neck and take a small taste.
“No,” she whispers. I watch her cheeks turn the lightest shade of pink.We’re so close I can smell her, chlorine and vanilla. It’s intoxicating. I have a hard time wanting to pull away from her.
The tea kettle starts screaming, breaking my trance, and I step back from her.
“Night,” I say quickly, turning and leaving as fast as I can. All my nonchalance goes out the window along with my brain.
I don’t hear her say anything as I get to the stairs.
