“For starters, we live together. Have you ever heard the saying, Don’t shit where you eat?”
She rolls her eyes, followed by a sigh. “Okay, fine. I’m not going to bug you about it. But if you want to explore the possibility, I’d say the path is clear.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m saying Charlie is into you too.”
I keep my expression neutral, but I can’t ignore how Jane’s comment sends a thrill down my spine.
18
CHARLIE
With Troy unable to play football, we’re constantly home at the same time. However, I go out of my way to not spend too much time in his company. It’s not only that I’m afraid to explore whatever is going on between us, but I also legit have a ton of work to do.
It’s Friday night, and I don’t foresee going to bed until the early hours of the morning. I have to finish my editing job. It’s a romance novel, and to be fair, I’ve been procrastinating finishing the assignment. Romance is not something I read for fun, but that’s not the issue. The hero reminds me too much of Troy, even down to his description. That leads my mind to wander to him instead of focusing on correcting the grammar in the book. But I’m determined to finish it tonight.
I don’t see Troy when I arrive home from class, so I quickly make a sandwich, grab a couple cans of Red Bull, and head to my room. To really keep my mind on the task at hand, I put on noise-canceling headphones and get to work. I’m making good progress until I notice a pattern in the manuscript that begins to irritate me. The author has a crutch phrase that she’s already repeated a dozen times throughout the story, and I’ve only read half of it. Curious, I do a quick document search and get the exact number of offenses. She’s used the same phrase twenty-two times. Worst of all, it’s not even a good one.
“Oh my God. My eyelids pressed together? It’s called closing your fucking eyes, damn it!” I yell at my computer screen.
Shit, I’m tired.
“Is everything okay in here?” Troy’s voice sounds from the door, making me jump in my seat.
Pressing a hand against my chest, I swivel the chair around. “What the hell, Troy? Don’t you knock?”
“I did. You didn’t reply.” He smirks. “What’s making you so angry?”
“Ugh, nothing. It’s just this book I’m editing. Bad writing gives me hives.”
“Can’t you make it better?”
“No. That’s not my job. I was hired to fix grammar mistakes and point out glaring plot issues. If I mess with the manuscript too much, I’d be changing the author’s voice.”
“Gotcha. Anyway, I was going to watch a movie if you’re interested in joining me.”
My heart skips a beat, and my mouth turns suddenly dry. “What movie?” I ask when, instead, I should have told him I have work to do.
“It.”
“Oh, the horror movie?”
“Yeah.”
“No, thanks. I don’t do horror.”
He curls his lips into a grin. “Why not? Are you scared?”
“Fuck yeah. I’m not ashamed to admit it. I once tried to watch The Exorcist on a dare, and I couldn’t sleep for weeks unless the lights were on.”
He chuckles. “We can pick something else. What’s your favorite movie?”
Why is he being so nice to me? Immediately, suspicion sneaks into my brain. “Lord of the Rings. More specifically, The Two Towers. Why?”
“We could watch that. I confess I’ve never seen the whole trilogy.”
“What? Are you serious?” My voice rises to a pitch.
“I might have fallen asleep during the first movie.” He rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish.
“Oh my God, Troy. Take that back. It’s sacrilege.”
He laughs. “Come on and help me atone for my sins then. Maybe you can turn me into a fan.”
A fuzzy feeling spreads through my chest. I’ve never seen him so open, unguarded. Damn it, I don’t know why girls prefer bad boys. Troy’s nice version is much more irresistible.
I’m about to cave when a text message catches my attention. It’s from the author of the book, asking when I’ll be done.
I let out a heavy sigh. “As much as I’d love to indoctrinate you in the ways of Tolkien, I’m afraid I have to finish this job. Rain check?”
“Sure thing. I can’t wait to be indoctrinated by you.”
I don’t know if it’s the way he replies that sounds like a sex proposition or how his eyes turn to molten lava, but I’m most definitely hot and bothered now.
It goes without saying that after my convo with Troy, it took forever to get my groove back. I kept staring at the computer screen, seeing nothing, as my mind kept replaying his visit. But I had to push through, which resulted in burning the midnight oil and acquiring a bad kink in my back.
The pain doesn’t improve after roughly four hours of sleep. My alarm blares at 8:00 a.m. like a banshee from hell. I’m tempted to shut it off, but unfortunately, I have Mom’s work thing, and I’d like to drop by Golden Oaks first.
Resigned, I drag my ass out of bed, bleary-eyed and annoyed. I have to learn not to overcommit to things. I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t juggling a million balls in the air.
As I brush my teeth, I eye the bathtub. I won’t be able to survive the long day if I can’t alleviate my back pain. I think I can spare thirty minutes to soak my sore muscles in a bubble bath. I turn on the water, and when the tub is half-full, I toss in one of my bath bombs.
A moan escapes my lips when I sink into the water. This is exactly what I need. Using a folded towel as a pillow, I lean my head back and close my eyes.
Immediately, Troy’s image pops in my head. The memory of our kiss comes to the forefront of my mind, making my lips and other parts of my body tingle. My nipples turn into pebbles, and there’s a new ache between my legs. Ah hell. This need won’t go away until I get some relief.
I glide my hand down my belly, then flick my clit with my fingers. A zing of pleasure unfurls in my core, making me arch my back. Damn, I’m so horny, this won’t take long. I imagine it’s Troy’s fingers playing with my sex, probing and teasing. I slide two fingers inside while I apply pressure on my bundle of nerves with my thumb.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
I pump my fingers in and out, imagining it’s Troy’s cock pushing in, filling and stretching me. The pressure keeps building and building, but I don’t want to climax just yet. My toes curl, my legs tense as I fight the wave of pleasure that’s on the horizon and fast approaching. I slow my movements, but I’ve already passed the point of no return. There’s no stopping this from happening now.
A strangled moan escapes my lips when the orgasm hits me. My hips buckle from the intensity of it. I’m not a fool to give credit to my hand for this; it’s all Troy’s fault for invading my thoughts, for making me crave him as if he were a drug I was addicted to after one single taste.
I’m uber relaxed now, and if I keep my eyes closed, I run the serious risk of falling asleep.