Page 31 of Unrequited
“Alright, enough chatter. You need rest. You take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Oh hell no. I did not wait six months to be alone with him so he could sleep on the couch.
“Why?” I ask, playing innocent.
As if I don’t already know the reason.
He growls under his breath, his eyes flashing with something hot and intense. He shakes his head, like he’s trying to cast off the thoughts racing through his mind. When he brushes his palm through his hair, it stands on end, shaggy and untamed, and I fuckingloveit. “Should find you something to wear.”
I shake my head. “It’s fine,” I tell him.” I’ve got little boy-shorts undies and a tee. I’ll sleep in those.”
His eyes darken, and his jaw clenches.
“Tempt the fuck out of me, why don’t you?” he growls.
I shrug, all innocence. But I want him to want me. I need to know I affect him the same way he affects me.
No one ever has, not like this. No man has ever looked at me the way he does.
Why not me? Why not now?
“You won’t even notice,” I say innocently, “if you leave a little space.”
But I’m not innocent. Not even close.
Fucking hell.
He makes me feel things I didn’t even know were possible. My heart doesn’t just race—it slams, wild and unrelenting, before my pulse sinks low, sending heat between my legs. I didn’t know a man’s voice could make adrenaline burst through my limbs like wildfire. I didn’t know a simple touch, or even the thought of one, could light me up from the inside.
I’m discovering a world I never knew I needed. A world of adrenaline and breath and heat. And I want to explore every inch of it with him.
So, I make a show of it.
I shimmy out of my clothes… slow, deliberate. My boy shorts cling to the soft curve of my ass, barely covering anything. He groans—deep and guttural—and I feel it slice through the silence.
I draw in a breath, then let it out, shaky and uneven.
Then I reach under my tee, unhooking my bra. My breasts are small and perky, the nipples peaked beneath the thin cotton.
“My fucking god, woman,” he growls. “A man would have to have fucking nerves of steel not to be tempted by you.”
Oh really?I think, fighting a smirk.
Just because no one’s ever claimed me doesn’t mean I’m not worth wanting. But rejection sinks in deep. I’ve gone to parties. Dances. I’ve smiled and flirted, tried. But my classmates knew who I was, and all it took was my brothers lurking in the background to make anyone vanish, like they already knew the price they’d be forced to pay. Like I costtoo much.
And maybe it’s normal to internalize that.
To start wondering if something’s wrong with you.
No man has ever truly wanted me. Not once.
Mia used to say they looked sometimes. But boys back off when faced with real men. Boys don’t step up. They don’t defend you.
They don’t murder the bastard who drugged your drink.
They don’t protect you.
I’mnotin the presence of a boy.
