Page 38 of Hero Hair
Chapter Twelve
Macs
My heart might explode out of my chest. It’s pounding with so much adrenaline I’m not sure how to control it. Honestly, I don’t want to control it. She’s in my arms and her lips are mine and I’m opening the door to my bedroom. It’s like I’m Indiana Fucking Jones and I’m opening the door to the room filled with riches beyond my wildest dreams. Teala is in my space. She doesn’t look around when I let her feet touch the floor, though. Not like I would. I’d need to study every single detail first. She doesn’t know what this means, has no clue of the magnitude of what’s happening. Hell, what’s already happened.
She’s warm against my body, and I can’t tear my gaze from her mouth. Her perfect fucking mouth that does things I never knew were possible. I kiss her. Just once. Hard and furious because I want to taste her now that she’s in my bedroom. Does it feel differently? It doesn’t. It feels just as surreal.
She sucks in air and looks at me with this “fuck me” smile and eyes only for me. I’m not sure what made me take her here. I could have talked her into a hotel room by her apartment. I saw it on her face. I could have bended her to my will. She wants this as much as I do.
I want her here in my space. In my world. In my fucking bed. I want her. Not because I haven’t fucked in a while either.
Because sometime while we were playing pretend something shifted.
“Can I use your bathroom?” she asks, eyes wide and cheeks blushed.
I point to the side of my room where a set of white double doors lead through to my bathroom. She waggles her brows, then spins on her toe.
“I’ll be right back.”
I watch her walk, her workout pants leaving little to the imagination. The curve of her ass is exceptional. She kicks off her sneakers.
“Just a quick shower,” she explains.
I tell her where I keep my extra towels and with a shark-like smile, she closes the door behind her. The lock doesn’t click.
“No clothes when you come out,” I yell, cupping one hand beside my mouth.
She doesn’t respond, but she laughs. She rolls with anything. I pace the floor, running a hand across the side of my bed to smooth the covers. I scratch my head and lay a wide palm across my stomach. I do twenty pushups as quickly as I can. The shower turns on and I close my eyes.
I unbutton my pants and step out of the uncomfortable jeans. The splashing of water forces my attention to the bathroom door. No one else has been in here before. I wonder what products she’s using. The assortment of gels and facial products is pretty extensive. The shelving in my shower is larger than average, customized for all of the shit I use. She’s singing now. It’s not the screeching warble of the customary shower singer. It sounds…nice. I don’t recognize the melody or the words. Teala’s voice echoing my space sends a pit of dread directly to my mid-section. This won’t end well. How can this possibly end any other way except with destruction?
Dropping to the floor, I do more push-ups, not even counting as I brush my chest against the cool wooden floor. This helps check my dick and it burns out the thoughts I’m not ready to face. Sweat beads at my hairline and I know I need to stop before I go from sweet, muscular pump to a stinky, inconsiderate fucker. I’m not showering. The water turns off, and with that action, her singing halts as well. I imagine what she looks like as she steps out of the shower onto my white bathmat.
Does she dry off before she gets out or does she step out sopping wet and get water all over the floor? There are two kinds of people in the world and they fall into either of those categories.
“Can you bring me my bag?” she asks.
I confirm I can, because I’d do anything she asks right now. Craving distraction, I pick up the leather bag sitting on a console table in my living room and walk back to my room, holding it by the straps at the end of my pointer finger. How does one carry a woman’s purse? I sling it over my shoulder, but that feels odd, so I hold it by the top handles before I knock on the door.
Teala peeks out, hair wet. “Thanks. I’ll just be another minute or so.” She smiles, my dick twitches, and she closes the door. “I feel like we need to establish some ground rules before we begin.”
She’s mad. Absolutely raving mad if she thinks I’m going to let anything dictate what I’m going to do with her and to her.
“What does that mean, exactly?” I raise my voice so she can hear through the door.
Instead of responding right away, she pushes the bathroom door open, naked but for the smile on her face. Hissing a breath, I clench my jaw as I let my gaze flick from one perfect body part to the next. Her workout clothes leave little to the imagination, yet I’m still a bit shell-shocked with her nakedness so close. Bringing a fist to my mouth, I bite down on my knuckles. Teala laughs.
“I’m clean. Want to get dirty?” she asks.
I suck in a breath. Her confident gaze doesn’t waiver. There’s no hiding the desire I see reflecting in her eyes. Her lips slide together, and her tongue flicks out to wet her bottom lip. Every move we make, the other notices. It’s obvious our chemistry is off the charts, but we’re not just synched. We’re on the same page.
“I can’t fuck you and that’s the dirtiest,” I reply, sliding my hand down the front of my underwear to shift my dick.
Her body is smooth all over and lithe, her pert breasts standing up unnaturally, with pink nipples hardened. If I were to take pieces and parts of other women—my favorite parts—and mash them together to form my ideal woman, Teala would be it. She wins the prize.
She walks up to me slowly, the steam from the bathroom pushing the scent of my bodywash into my awareness. I groan. She smells like me. I never would have understood what a turn on having my scent on a woman is, unless this happened. My mouth waters a bit. When she’s close enough to touch, the heat clinging to her body rushes to my chest. She’s on fire and she smells delectable. Fists clenched by my sides, I wait for her to make the first move.
She tilts her head to the side and narrows her eyes. “Rules,” she says, holding up one finger.
