“Sure.” I nod and after a few more seconds, I let go of her arm softly.
I turn around and go stand where she told me to. She follows and stops just a few inches away from me, and I inhale a deep breath of her perfume, before flinching slightly at the brightness of the light she turns on.
She apologizes shyly and I refrain from telling her not to. I don’t know why she always apologizes, and it drives me crazy. Like sometimes, she just says sorry for sitting somewhere, or saying something. Why does she feel like she has to be sorry for existing?
She looks at my shoulders, my chest, my abs, and after a few seconds, lifts her hands but stops and pulls them back an inch. I’m holding my breath. Was she going to touch me? Why did she stop?
“Hm… Uh, can I—” she pauses, her eyes meeting mine and I’m afraid she’ll see everything that’s going on in my mind.
I look down, towards her hands hovering just an inch from my stomach, and I understand what she’s waiting for. I swallow through the knot in my throat and my hands, unmoving at my sides, are clammy against my jeans.
“Okay,” I answer, but my voice is barely more than a breath.
She nods, and rubs her hands together a couple of time before they finally touch my skin, and I close my eyes, fighting against the goosebumps spreading over my whole fucking body, like an electric current.
Come on, think about all the horrible diseases you learned about for the last four years. Don’t get hard now, don’t get hard now, don’t get hard now,I plead with myself.
Come on, she’s barely touching me.
But her hands are so soft, exploring me. Over the bumps of my abs, my chest, and along my arms. God how I’d love to have them wrapped around my—
“Thank you,” she says, clearing her throat and stepping back until she reaches her bed.
When she grabs her art supplies and sits crossed legs on top of the covers, she closes her eyes and shakes her head a couple of times, like she’s trying to clear her mind.
How I wish I could be there, to see what goes on inside it.
“You can move your arms and stretch your legs if you need to, but to make sure the lightning is good I’m gonna need you to keep facing that direction… Well, facing me.”
“Alright,” I answer with a nod.
She starts a playlist and I watch her. For what seems to be just a few minutes but is in reality about two hours. She’s so focused on her notepad that she barely looks aware of what surrounds her. I try not to move outside the moments she asks me to, and I’m enraptured by the way she moves her pencil over the paper. She’s passionate, and I can’t take my eyes off her.
And suddenly, I feel terrified. There’s no way I can ever see her being with someone. But Jack will never let me be with her. How could he? I’ve been acting like a manwhore for the last three years. He’ll think I’m not serious about her. But if I explain how I feel? Would he believe me? He’s my best friend, I hope he trusts me enough not to hurt her or him. To know that I’m telling the truth when I tell him how crazy I am about her.
How did I let myself end up in this situation? It’s so cliché, a guy, falling head over heels for his best friend’s sister. For the way she looks, yes, but also the way she laughs, she smiles, she smells. The way she nibbles on her lips when she’s trying to focus, the way she’s always frowning in the most adorable way when she’s confused.
The way she doesn’t realize how beautiful and hot she is, wearing such simple clothes but that hug her curves in the best way.
And damn him, but Jerkwood is right. That tiny waist and those wide hips?Fuck, but I want to grab onto those and drive into her, over, and over, and over, until she can’t even scream my name anymore because of how spent she’ll be.
I grit my teeth, fisting my hands in front of me to hide the swelling in my jeans.
Dammit.
When I look at her face, I see her smiling while she stares at her sketch and my heart rate speeds up. Did she notice?
“Why are you smiling?” I ask, hiding my embarrassment behind curiosity.
She jolts and stares at me with wide eyes “What?”
I arch a brow, trying to hide a smile.She was definitely lost in her own little world. “You were smiling at your paper. I was just wondering why.”
She looks down and stares at her sketch, silent for a few seconds. “Uh… I—I don’t really know, I get a little lost drawing sometimes, I’m sorry.”
I tilt my head side to side, stretching. “Why are you apologizing?”
She pauses, probably surprised by my question. Maybe even by her useless apology. “Oh, uh…” She scratches her nose distractedly and I hold a little laugh when I notice the large stain of graphite left on the side of it. “I don’t know,” she says, scrunching her nose adorably and I can’t hold my smile anymore. “But anyway, I think I’m done,” she says. “You’re free to move, you must be a little sore.”
