I shrug, moving toward the bed that’s already turned back with pillows fluffed like you’d find in any five-star hotel.
“It is what it is.” My tone is lacking any sort of care or enthusiasm. If I didn’t know my mom would be hurt if we snuck out and drove home in the storm, I’d do it in a heartbeat. “I’ll sleep on the couch.” Reaching for the pillow, I go to move it to full size sectional couch in the corner of my room in front of a fireplace with a flat screen TV.
She purses her lips and exhales. “Don’t be silly, this bed is massive. Just stay on your side. Besides, what if your mom pokes her head in in the night? Can’t have her thinking we’re fighting.” She rubs her hand over her face, and I notice the dark circles under her eyes. Once more she looks around my room with a frown.
“What is it?” I know something is on her mind.
Biting her lip, she says, “Did they have your room redone when you moved out?”
My brows furrow. “No?” For some odd reason it leaves my mouth like a question.
“It’s always looked like this?”
“I mean…” I pause, looking around and trying to see what she sees. ‘Crème’ walls as my mother called the color, dark wide plank hardwood floors layered with more ‘crème’ rugs, large windows with thick curtains so no light is let in come morning, paintings of fields and flowers and other random shit I don’t give a fuck about, and furniture all in varying shades of that blasted ‘crème’ color again, the only spot of color—if it can be called that—is the pale blue bed coverings. It’s a feminine room, that’s for damn sure, but it’s not like my say ever really mattered since my time here was always limited. “Yeah,” I finish.
Sadness clouds her face. “There’s nothing you here.”
“Nope,” I agree, no sense in arguing with her since it’s pretty fucking obvious. “This isn’t my home, Van. It never has been and never will be.”
My grandparents’ manor was far more of a home than this one ever was. My grandpa, though a serious businessman, was always kind to me and made me feel special. It often made me wonder how my father was his son, because the two seemed so vastly different.
I startle when her cool fingers touch my stubbled cheek. “You deserve more than this.” I know she’s talking about more than the room. “You matter, Teddy. You’re important.”
I bite my tongue so I don’t tell her that if that was true, she wouldn’t already be trying to erase me from her life before our agreement is even up.
“Go ahead and shower.” I nod to the bathroom. “I’ll grab you some clothes to sleep in.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod, already walking away from her. I need space, not from her, just from this place, but I’m fucking stuck so pacing will have to do.
The bathroom door clicks shut softly behind her, and I let out a world weary sigh. I fucking hate being in this house. Dinners are bad enough, but an entire night?
Searching through my drawers, I find most empty which isn’t much of a shocker, but eventually I manage to scrounge up an old shirt from my prep school that’ll work as a sleep shirt for Vanessa and a pair of sweatpants for me.
I knock and open the bathroom door to set the shirt on the counter and nearly lose my shit on the spot. The glass shower enclosure is fogged up, I can’t see anything but her silhouette, but that doesn’t mean anything to my dick which is suddenly so hard I don’t think there’s any blood left anywhere else in my body.
I should turn around promptly and leave, but I’ve never been too smart when it comes to these kinds of decisions.
She tilts her head back beneath the spray of water, and I’m forced to bite back a groan. I palm myself over my pants, tilting my head back. My body feels hot and achy, my clothes too tight.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I have to get out of here.
I take a step out of the room and ease the door shut behind me. Leaning my back against it I take several breaths to calm the erratic pace of my heart while flooding my mind with thoughts that will get rid of my erection, or at least make it less noticeable until it’s my turn to shower and I can take care of business.
Sitting on the side of the bed, I do my best to wait patiently for Vanessa to finish up. The second the door opens, though, I lose all cool and fly past her and slam the door shut behind me.
“Someone’s gotta take a shit real bad.” I hear her remark through the door.
I’d much rather that be my problem than the fact that if I don’t blow a load soon, I’m pretty sure my balls will shrivel up and fall off. That’s not something I want to risk.
The bathroom is still steamy from her shower, a small section of condensation on the mirror wiped away. It smells of soap, but obviously it’s not Vanessa’s normal scent and I instantly dislike it. It’s too stuffy smelling. Like champagne and roses and other shit no one actually cares about.
Turning the shower on, I strip down in record speed and step beneath the spray, taking my dick in my hand. I’m aching and harder than I’ve ever been in my life. I’d like to think all these months of celibacy play into that fact, but I know it’d be a lie. It’s Vanessa. She gets me so fucking hard, unlike anyone else.
It doesn’t take me long until I’m coming, hand braced against the marble tile to hold me upright. My whole body shudders, and I struggle to remain standing. Once I’ve caught my breath, I race to wash up and get out, only to realize I’ve forgotten my sweatpants.
Fucking figures.
I brush my teeth thanks to the other fresh toothbrush laid out wrapped in plastic beside the one Vanessa already opened and used. Once my teeth have been aggressively brushed, I open the bathroom door to find Vanessa already lying in bed on her side, facing away from the bathroom. She sits up at the sound of the door opening and looks relieved to see me which fills my chest with a stupid sort of pride. I feel like a grade school kid when the only thought in my brain is she likes me.
“Lose your pants?”
Don’t do it, Teddy. Don’t do it.
“I know you like seeing me naked.” I drop the towel.
Her jaw drops, eyes bulging as she ogles my cock—Jesus Christ I’m going to be hard all over again—and slaps a hand over her eyes. “Put that thing away! It’s a weapon!”
I laugh, a true deep belly laugh, and grab my sweatpants from where I left them on a chair. Yanking them on I find that they’re a tad short—more than a tad actually, but will have to work.
“The weapon has been sheathed.”
She hesitantly lets her fingers drop. “What if I whipped my boobs out all willy nilly like you with your actual willie!”
“Then I’d be a happy man,” I quip, slipping into bed on the opposite from her.
She lets out a groan and rolls away from me to face the opposite side. “Men.”
I chuckle, pushing a button on the remote that brings up a hidden TV in the foot of the bed. Vanessa sits up once more, mouth parted in shock. “There’s a TV in your fucking bed?” Before I can respond, she points to the living area of the room. “And there? You live in excess.”
“I didn’t decorate the room.” The obviously hangs in the air. “But it doesn’t mean I won’t enjoy the finer things.”