Page 57 of From Nowhere

“I missed a guy.”

“Lucky guy.”

“Right?” She bites her bottom lip.

“I bet he missed you too.”

Her head cocks to the side. “You think?”

“Definitely.”

Maren makes me feel alive with every flirty glance and restrained smile.

“Will’s upstairs.”

I nod. “Lola’s outside.”

The tension is palpable. God, my hands itch to touch her.

Maren covers her face and makes a noise that sounds like the marriage between a laugh and a groan. “Sorry. I’m struggling. I don’t know how to navigate this.” She drops her hands and sighs.

“Navigate what?”

“These feelings combined with our living situations.” She tucks her chin. “This is embarrassing. I’m a grown woman. What is wrong with me?”

I glance out the back window before closing the space between us. “Tell me about your feelings.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “They’re not emotional feelings. I don’t need therapy. They’re ...” Lifting her gaze to mine, she wrinkles her nose. “Physical.”

“Physical? Like this?” I feather my knuckles along her cheek.

“Kind of,” she murmurs.

“Or this?” My fingers ghost down her neck.

“Kind of,” she whispers before wetting her lips.

I slide my hand down her arm to her waist and pause for a second, taking another glance out the back window just as Lola licks her fingers before opening the door to the shed. Then I snake my hand up the inside of Maren’s T-shirt, teasing the skin along her ribs until I reach her bra.

Again, I pause.

She doesn’t move, doesn’t blink.

I cup her breast over her bra, and my heart channels all the blood in my body straight to my dick. My thumb traces the outline of her hard nipple beneath the thin material. “Like this?” I whisper.

Her eyelids blink heavily. “Yes.”

This is nice. Too nice.

I’m out of my mind in the best possible way.

I pull my hand from her shirt and turn, scratching my head a half dozen times while cringing. “Nope. No, no, no. I’m torturing myself. This is a bad idea. Or a good idea at the worst time. What am I doing?” I take several steps away from Maren and then pivot back toward her. “I’m sorry.” I exhale a harsh breath and lace my fingers behind my head.

A slow smile blooms along her face. “Ozzy, I like our slow dance. I hate it, too, but mostly I like it. I feel like you’ve blindfolded me and tied me up. And every time we see each other, you feed me a morsel of something irresistible, leaving me a little satisfied but always wanting more.”

I blurt my confession. “I haven’t had sex in over two years.”

Real smooth. Idiot!

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