“What are you doing today?” she questions without meeting my eyes in the mirror. Her voice soft and melodic, and I bend over, having to put the weights down before I kill myself by dropping them.
“Your father and I are meeting a supplier, but I’m heading in early because I need to get the paperwork to the office first. Then I’m having lunch with Colette,” I add on, knowing she hates the woman I’ve been seeing on and off for the past two months. But it’s merely an agreement of no-strings fun. Yet, each time Colette joins me here at the house, Mila’s face glowers with anger.
I realized early on it was jealousy, and I played it to my advantage.
It may be juvenile, but when Mila brings her boy-toys home, I’m rabid. We play this game of cat and mouse, and each day my restraint slips a little more. The need to pull her across my lap and spank her pert little ass is enough to have me straining in my boxers every time she’s around.
To mark that smooth, olive skin with my handprint is tempting, too fucking tempting. Turning, I head toward the door. Stopping at the bike as I watch her for a moment.
“She’s so wrong for you, Grayson.” Her pout is adorable, and I regard her with a smirk.
“And why is that, sweetheart?” Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I watch her gaze trail down my torso.
“Because, she’s just not right for you. I don’t have to have a reason.”
Leaning in close to her, I hear the hitch in her breathing. Her chest heaves as her movements falter. “And who would you suggest I fuck?” I study her carefully and notice her squirm at the word fuck. I’d love to bend her over this machine and drive into her.
“Someone other than her,” she grits out in frustration, turning up the bike a notch to an uphill climb, and I wonder if she’s working out her frustration the same way I’ve done. But then again, the thought of her lying in her bed rubbing her pussy, thinking of me, doesn’t help my erection. She turns her head in indignation and meets my gaze.
“Well, if that’s how you feel, tell me exactly why you don’t like her, and I may reconsider.” I lean in farther, planting a soft kiss on her cheek, and I whisper in her ear, “I’ll even reward you for your effort.” With that, I leave her in the gym and think about what I just offered.
In the guest bedroom, I head into the en suite and push down my shorts and boxer briefs. My cock is hard, and it’s all the little kitten’s fault. She does things to me that I should deny. I should tell her it’s wrong, but I can’t find the words when she’s near me.
Even our messages have become something of an addiction for me. At first, it started innocently. And over the years, she’s become more than just a teenager I remember meeting when Gabe married her mom.
She’s a woman.
All fucking woman.
Pushing the button on the automated shower system, I wait a moment for it to heat before stepping under the warm spray.
Every muscle in my body is tense, needing relief and release. Gripping my shaft, I stroke it to images of her in those tiny skirts she loves to flaunt her ass in. Her breasts — a perfect handful — taunt me from her skin-tight tank tops. Her long, jet-black hair, which I’d love to wrap around my fist while I’m pounding into her for being a naughty little girl, has my body shuddering with a release that elicits a groan from my mouth.
Opening my eyes, I lather up and try to wash the memories of what I’ve just done away; however, I know I can’t. Once I’ve rinsed the suds away, I turn off the shower and step out into the chilly bathroom, grabbing a towel. Wrapping it around my waist, I place both hands on the basin and stare at my appearance.
When did it all change?
How did she weave herself inside me?
I’m a man-whore, I love women, I love pussy, but right now, the only one I want is her. It’s been a life of being the playboy, but the thought of doing that doesn’t please me anymore. What does bring me satisfaction, is seeing Mila smile.
“Grayson.” A sweet, melodic voice jolts me into the present, and I turn in time to find Mila standing in the doorway. “Can I get a ride to the mall? If you’re going into town?”
She’s changed already, dressed in a white tank top that hugs her tits like a glove, and a pair of shorts which stop high on her slender thighs. A pair of ballet flats adorn her pretty feet, and her long hair is loose down her back in waves.
“Sure, sweetheart.” Stepping toward the door, her green eyes flit down my chest, which is still wet from the shower. Heat burns in those moss-colored pools. “Was there something else?” I question, my body only inches from hers.
She peers up at me with wide, innocent eyes. Her small frame would fit perfectly in mine. “I, uhm . . .” Her words taper off, and I wait for it, hoping with everything I am she’ll say something, to give me consent to kiss her. “I’m sorry about last night. And thank you for giving me a lift.”
They’re not the words I want. The hope that was bubbling in my chest dies like a dried-out bud, and I know I can’t do much unless she gives me the response I need.
“You don’t have to apologize, sweetheart. I just worry about you. And you know I’d do anything for you.” I lean in, inhaling her scent. Sweet like candy, bubblegum, and cookies. And I’ll be damned, but I want to taste her.
“Anything?” she questions in a sultry, honeyed tone. The playful flirting immerges quickly, and her eyes sparkle with mischief. The air is thick with swirling desire, so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Closing the distance between us, I murmur, “That’s what I said, Mila. I’m yours.” My tone is low and gruff against her ear. “So, you’re welcome to take what you need.”
The promise is so evident, so fucking clear what I want and need from her. Chill bumps dot her smooth skin, and I can’t help the smirk that lifts the side of my mouth.
“I’ll remember that, Uncle Grayson,” she murmurs so quietly I would have missed it if we weren’t so close. I step away, and just like that, the spell is broken.
“Good girl.” I step past her, strolling into my walk-in closet, and retrieve a pair of boxers. When Gabe told me we’d be working together more often, he offered me space in one of the guest rooms. Being so close to Mila was a perk, and I didn’t refuse when he told me I could move some of my things in.
Awareness prickles my skin the moment I straighten to full height. I know she’s still close. Dropping the towel, I step into my underwear, and a faint, audible gasp comes from behind me, and I realize she was closer than I thought.
I turn slowly, hoping to catch her in the act, but when my gaze lands on the door, it’s empty. She must have scurried off after getting an eyeful, and I can’t stop the satisfied chuckle that rumbles through my chest.
Chapter 3
Mila
Jesus, his ass.
Fuck.
Oh. My. God.
As soon as I’m in the safety of my bedroom, I lean against the door and try to calm my heart rate. I don’t know if he knew I was there, but my feet were cemented, and as much as I wanted to run, I couldn’t. His body looked like it was carved out of marble. Thick, muscled thighs, an ass you could probably bounce a quarter off, and his back chiseled to panty-melting perfection.