Page 31 of The Games We Play

I watch her and she saunters back toward the cabin with everyone scattering out of the window with a few hollering and cheering like a bunch of idiots, and I’m beyond thankful for the humiliation she just saved me from.

12

SEAMUS

Present Day

These past few mornings I’ve been waking up with a renewed vigor on life. I succeeded last week in the goal of making my presence known and why, but still managed to play a little hard to get, knowing that will probably pique her interest. Keeping my distance this past week, although painfully difficult, is needed to maintain that enigma.

I sensed her attraction to me, just like it’s undeniable to control mine when I’m around her. But seeing the way she looked at me, her eyes slightly softening behind the angry squint, as I walked over the front of her house was a silent acceptance of my presence here.

Sure, she might be pissed I moved in next door, and she might be upset at how things ended between us—which we clearly have two different viewpoints on—but her body can’t help but react to mine. I could feel how much she wanted me that night.

I should have leaned in, kissed her, and made her remember how good we were, but I wouldn’t have been able to stop once Istarted. Plus, the patience I’ve learned over the course of my life is my signature trait, and I want her to give in to me first.

Can’t say she isn’t testing me, though. I would have assumed she would have been knocking on my door by now.

But fuck, she’s as stubborn—or driven—as I am.

Walking upstairs with my coffee in hand, I head straight over to the window that overlooks the backyard.

At first, taking a moment to enjoy the view was just something I did out of habit. Something I’ve always done in any home I’ve lived in.

After spending years in barracks or living in tents in the most undesirable locations, I appreciate when I have a view through a window. Regardless of what that view is.

Seattle isn’t known for sunny, blue skies and great weather. In fact, it’s pretty fucking drab. The sky's the most depressing shade of gray, sprinkled with clouds that rival the same color palette. And although the downtown skyline is pretty spectacular, you can only see the buildings on a clear day, which is few and far between.

However, the view from this window?

Priceless.

Worth every overpriced penny I paid for the off market offer I made for this house.

Why? Because a certain goddess who brings her own sunshine into every living, breathing moment, practices yoga in her backyard wearing nothing but a sports bra and lace underwear.

Every. Fucking. Morning.

Sometimes it’s ten minutes. Sometimes it's an hour. I suppose it’s based on how much time she has.

Do I watch her the entire time?

No, of course not.

Not the entire time.

I mean, I do have to blink.

Regardless of how long her practice is, my jerk off session mirrors hers.

Every morning I watch with appreciation. The way the lace disappears between her ass cheeks. How her breasts push together in certain poses. The way her chest rises and falls with each breath. Observing her strong arms hold her body up in these gorgeous displays of balance and strength.

What starts as a mesmerizing display of physical art turns into a desire I can’t control. I grip my hard cock, stroking it from the base to the tip, rounding my hand over the sensitive tip. And, as usual, she gets me there way too fast.

As unpredictable as her schedule is, it doesn’t matter if she spends ten minutes stretching or an hour. The moment I can sense that her session is over, I allow for the full pleasure to consume me and take myself over the edge.

There are passing moments when I realize how ridiculous my behavior is.

But like I said, passing moments.

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