Page 30 of Before We Fell

Interest piqued, my eyes narrow and I paused from combing the doll’s hair. “Siblings?”

Her lips pressed together, and she tugged way harder than even I knew necessary on the doll in her lap. “Am I on trial? What’s with the interrogation?”

Before I could say anything, she buried her face in her hands and shook her head, shoulders heaving with a forceful breath. “Sorry, I’m sorry, Noah.” She shook her head again, brushed hair off her face and tucked a chunk behind her ear. “That was uncalled for.”

“You don't like talking about your family.” That didn’t take a genius to figure out. “Subject dropped.”

“I have a brother, he’s just trouble, and I’ve barely seen him since he left home when I was thirteen. He came around occasionally, strung out needing money, and it wrecked my parents.” She huffed another breath, cheeks puffing out before she exhaled. Turning to me, she cocked her head to the side. “I’m from a suburb of Kansas City, Missouri side. My parents devoted their lives to fixing my brother, even when he made it clear he didn’t want it. Ignored me for the wayward son.”

“Drugs?”

“That, alcohol, theft, dealing…who knows. If it was illegal and deadly or dangerous, my brother flocked to it like a bear to honey.”

I chuckled at her analogy and turned back to my doll. “Brushing hair is oddly relaxing.”

It was the lamest attempt at a change in subject, but she was distressed, and I didn’t like the tightness around her eyes. I much preferred them when they were widened in surprise or wonder the few times I’d caught her checking me out.

Note to self: Next time I see her, don’t wear a shirt. How dark would the blush on her throat turn then?

“Girls like having their hair brushed. Someone running their fingers through their hair is really relaxing.”

I glanced at her brown curls that draped over her shoulders, covering her breasts. Bet hers would feel silky smooth in my hands. Running through my fingers. Coiled around my fist.

Shut up! Focus on the damn doll, pervert.

Too afraid to talk for fear she’d hear the sudden lust raging through my veins, I went back to the task, small talk dropped and when I was finished, I held the doll up and grinned. “All right. What next?”

“Now,” she said, grinning. It was blindingly beautiful. Pure and large with straight, sparkling white teeth. “I get to laugh at you until you figure out how to do a braid.”

I smirked and grabbed my beer from the table. “You should know I’m a perfectionist, and talented in multiple facets.” Thick innuendo dripped from my tone and a pink hue slid across her cheeks.

I expected her to look down at the doll, look away so she didn't see how I affected her, because I was definitely affecting her, and thank god it wasn’t just me. Instead, her lips twisted in a playful smirk. “All right then, Mr. Perfect, let’s see what you can do.”

Lauren laughed so hardshe collapsed into my shoulder. “You totally suck at this!”

My shoulders shook although my face said nothing was funny as I scowled at her. “I don’t suck. I just need practice.”

“It’s been three hours and I think you’re getting worse.”

Shit. I checked my watch. It was after ten and how in the hell did time go by so quickly while I worked on braiding?

She was right, though. I tossed the doll to the table. I’d practice on all three dolls, multiple times and Lauren wasn’t even trying to teach me French or Dutch braids, which I now knew what they were thanks to a demonstration on her part.

My eyes bugged out as she twisted and tugged and grabbed and added and I’d shook my head declaring, “No way in hell am I trying that.”

I was stuck with a simple braid. Two of them on each doll like I was learning Riley liked them. After hours, my knuckles ached. I held up my hand. “I feel like I have claws. Goddamn, this hurts.”

Lauren laughed harder, shoving brushes and combs and the water bottle into her bag. “You’ll get it, and I’m only kidding you about being horrible.”

“No, you’re not.”

She looked at me over her shoulder, brown eyes sparkling and shoulders still shaking. “Like you said, you need practice, but on the bright side, you can brush Riley’s hair now so that’s a bonus.”

Right. Riley. I was doing this for her. Funny how I’d forgotten that while I twisted my fingers into unnatural shapes and spent the last three hours laughing with Lauren while concentrating on not only what she was saying but how she moved her fingers so quickly and elegantly.

More than once my dick had jumped. How would those nimble fingers feel on me? Running over my scalp while my head was buried in her thighs? Or sliding up and down my back after I made her come so hard she couldn’t walk?

I was on beer three and bathroom break twenty-eight, needing to excuse myself enough times to get myself under control from the indecent thoughts and visions I got every time I caught a whiff of Lauren’s perfume, or when she rested against me, peered over my shoulder, gesturing and pointing to where I’d messed up. Again.

---