Me: I’m eighteen.
Mom: Doesn’t mean you’re grown!
I plug my phone in the charger, no longer interested in discussing this topic with her over text. Then, I change into a pink camisole and gray sleep shorts.
Me and Reid kissed.
We can’t ignore what happened or this electric pull when we’re around each other.
Should I go talk to him?
Yes.
I stride over to my bedroom door and open it. His bedroom door is open but he’s not in there. I can hear sounds downstairs. The television is on and dishes clank together.
Just go down there, girl.
Pacing at the top of the stairs doesn’t get you what you want.
What do I want?
Him.
I work up the nerve to go downstairs and see him. He’s in the kitchen cooking something. Mystomach grumbles when I get a whiff of a grilled cheese sandwich.
“I’d heard it, uh, earlier. Grumbling.” He won’t look at me as he gestures to the pan. “Thought I’d make you something to eat.”
I step close to his side so I can watch him as he cooks. He’s stiff at first but then relaxes. Our bodies brush against each other as he moves.
“Mind grabbing a plate, bab—er—Em?”
A smile tugs at my lips. “Were you about to call me baby?”
He grunts, neither confirming nor denying. I fetch the plate for him and check out his firm ass in his basketball shorts. Still, he refuses to look at me.
“Here you go,” he says, thrusting the plate at me with the savory grilled cheese in the middle. “Eat up.”
Then, he practically races out of the kitchen. Since I’m starving, I wolf down the sandwich and then chase down the cheesy remnants with a bottle of water. I rinse off my plate and then make my way into the living room where he’s intently watching golf.
He wants me. I want him. The longer he tries to avoid it, the more frustrating it’ll be for the both of us.
It’s time to remind him of what he wants.
I sit down on the coffee table in front of him, blocking the television and smirk at him. His eyes are nearly twitching as he attempts to look through me at the television. He’s only able to hold off looking at me for so long before giving in. Hazel eyes dart firstto my lips and then down to my breasts. The silky pink material doesn’t hide my erect nipples pointing through. A choked sound comes from him.
“You okay over there?” I ask, a teasing lilt in my voice.
“Isn’t it your bedtime?”
I laugh and shake my head. “I’m eighteen now. My bedtime is your bedtime.”
His teeth grind together as if it’s taking every ounce of him to control himself. I rise to my feet between his spread thighs and place my hands on my hips. He steals a glance down at my exposed bellybutton, groaning again. This time, he adjusts himself through his shorts.
Glad to know I’m not the only one around here who’s turned on.
“Don’t you want to touch me?” I murmur, stepping until my shins touch the couch. “I want that.”
Hot eyes latch onto mine. His hand moves over his shorts as he rubs at his cock. My pussy throbs with need.
