Page 45 of Yours, Unexpectedly

I quickly bring the rest of my body under the water, savoring the feeling of each drop pelting my skin. I go through my motions of washing my hair before adding a dollop of body wash to my loofa. I try really, really hard not to linger around my cock, but when my body remembers the whimper that came out of Bex’s mouth right before I left her this morning, I’m instantly hard again.

This is the most intense version of edging.

I can’t hold back anymore as I think about the slide of her body under mine. What her hips would feel like, slick with body wash, as I pushed her up against the shower wall and lowered to my knees.

I think about what she tastes like as my hand roams slowly up and down my shaft, flicking my wrist in a slight turn at the head. I think about hearing her moan as I turn her around and put her hands up against the shower tiles. As I slowly push into her from behind, hands gripping her sweet ass when she backs onto my cock.

My hand continues to work as I think about what it would feel like to lean over and take her ear between my teeth, lightly tugging so her head falls back and exposes her throat—a perfect line that goes from her collarbone all the way up to her chin, begging me to mark it as mine.

I brace myself against the shower wall with one hand while the other tugs almost violently up and down. The image of Bex clenching around me as my name spills out of her mouth makes my come spill right along with the visual. I wring out every last drop, thinking of her perfect lips. Her perfect everything.

My forehead hits the shower wall in an effort to calm my breathing down. I hope Bex comes around to the idea of dating soon, or I’m about to become very well acquainted with my right hand. It’ll be like middle school all over again.

I finish rinsing off and hop out of the shower. My phone immediately catches my eye, lighting up with a text. Hoping it’s the woman starring in my fantasies, I towel off at lightning speed before grabbing my phone and swiping it open.

Three texts from my father are waiting for me.

Erik Olsson

I saw your RSVP for the gala.

Don’t forget that plus one.

Dick will be there too. The three of us should catch up.

Dick is the name of Erik’s financial advisor, and let’s just say, his name is fitting. My father’s texts are alluding to discussions about my inheritance, and even though he knows I don’t want any of it and haven’t since the day I left their house, he continues to hold it over me anyway like it means anything.

I sigh, closing my phone without responding. My thoughts turn to the gala and whether or not I should go. I want to take Bex, I realize. I want to see her experience the city—a fancy night of dressing up and pretending to be something we aren’t.

I just want to spend time with her.

I’m sitting on the couch contemplating how to broach the subject with her when Gabe barrels through the door. And that is truly the only way to describe how Gabe moves, you can’t miss him when he enters a room.

“Heyyyy, loverboy!” He greets me by throwing his arms open wide, walking across the room, and leaning down to give me a noogie, ruffling my drying hair.

I throw my arms up in defense. “What the fuck! Get off me!”

“Where were you last night? Huh? Last I saw you, you were taking Bex home for her, you know—” He leans in and whispers, “Girl stuff. And then you disappeared. Did someone call you for a hookup? It’s been a while.”

God, he’s got the worst case of word vomit this morning.

“First of all, don’t call your sister’s period ‘girl stuff.’ Grow up and learn about the female body. Second of all, I don’t kiss and tell,” I say with a shit eating grin. There’s a part of me that actually finds it hilarious that it doesn’t even cross Gabe’s mind that I stayed at Bex’s place last night.

“Yeah well, Bex had some fun of her own last night,” he shudders. “I stopped by this morning and she definitely had a dude in her room.”

Even though I know that dude was me, the thought of another guy in her room has me feeling alarmingly possessive. Instead of acting on that irrational thought, I throw Gabe off our trail a little bit.

“Is that so? Baby Bardot is getting some? Good for her.” It is also absolutely good for me, is what I don’t add.

He makes a gagging sound. “Can we not?! That’s my sister we’re talking about.”

I huff a laugh before testing my luck just a bit. “Yeah, but you wouldn’t actually care if Bex was seeing someone, would you?” Be chill, Anders.

He shrugs. “I guess not. I want her to be happy and I definitely didn’t like that doucher she was dating before.” He pops up from where he had sagged down into the couch cushions. “Oh shit. I hope she’s not sleeping with that fucker again. He was sooooo”—he drags this out entirely too long—“boring. If it’s him, I would definitely care.”

I’m torn between laughing about Gabe’s boring comment—the guy was probably pretty normal—and this weird feeling of… longing? I hate that any man had a chance to be with Bex… to possibly break her heart or hurt her in any way.

“What happened between them?” I ask.

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