Page 46 of Sinful as They Come
I stayed like that for a few minutes. One, because I was too annoyed to even look Brodie in the eyes. And two, because Holly’s couch was stupidly comfortable and I could have fallen asleep right on it – not that I would ever tell her that. The sound of footsteps made me open my eyes. I was hoping it was Holly with Brodie’s shit, but I was looking at her mom once more.
“Are you sure you boys aren’t staying for dinner?” she asked with her hands on her hips. “I made chicken alfredo!”
“No,” I told her before Brodie could speak up. That at least explained what smelled so good. “We’re okay. Thanks. We, uh, gotta get home soon. I have a shift to get to.” That was a lie, but I needed to get out of Holly house already.
“Hm. If you insist. Where’s Holly gone off to?”
“She’s upstairs. Getting some stuff for Brodie.”
“Do you mind getting her for me, Sawyer? I need her in the kitchen! Ooh, Brodie, you can give me a hand until Holly comes downstairs. Left at the stairs, all the way down the hall. Her room is the last one on the left!” With that, she grabbed Brodie’s hand, pulled him off the floor, and dragged him away from me.
I didn’t even have a chance to complain. I threw my hands up, looking around the room like someone was going to help me. All I could hear was laughter from down the hallway. Brodie and Holly’s mom were apparently getting on great.
But I wanted to go home already, so I whispered out a sharp “fuck” before I stomped up the stairs. There were dozens of photos on the walls. Holly’s face stared back at me, right along with her oddly nice mom and asshole dad.
Moving fast, I found the closed door that Holly’s mom had been talking about and knocked on it slowly. I got no response. I knocked again. No response. I rolled my eyes. How was it that Holly had been wasting so much of my time lately? When I knocked another time and still got no answer, I let out a loud sigh. I even waited a few seconds before I gave up on waiting, pushing open the door.
Holly had been found. Finally.
But she was bent over.
She was reaching for something under her bed, her ass up in the air and her skirt pushed up. I gripped her door handle harder than I should have for someone who hated her so fucking much.
But her round, plump ass was on show. Her panties were more than visible. I could see how they were wedged in between her peachy ass cheeks, the pink material looking all soft and lacy. My head tilted at the sight of her as she moved her body back and forth, searching for something.
I hissed lowly. I hated her. I truly did. But fuck, she was hot. The worst thing about her was how hot she was. If she wasn’t such a stuck-up brat, she’d be perfect. My knuckles were probably turning white from how hard I was gripping the door handle, but I couldn’t stop staring. She was making little noises as she stretched out her body. The softest of whimpers…
It was a pretty sound.
Holly let out a happy hum and pulled herself from out under the bed. My eyes widened a little when she got settled on her feet and turned around, a little box in her hands. She gasped and took a step back.
“Sawyer,” she said with a shallow breath.
“Your mom wants you,” was all I said before I took off and stormed my way downstairs. I could have sworn my cock twitched when I had been looking at her, but I was going to pretend like that never happened. I was going to pretend like I hadn’t been fuckinginfatuatedfor that minute Holly had spent on all fours with her ass up in the air and her panties on show…
I coughed loudly when I got downstairs and found Brodie by the door. He must have noticed that something happened, because he gave me a quick up and down.
“You okay?” he asked, leaning in close.
“When the hell can we leave?” I asked, my voice low. As usual, every interaction I had been having with Holly lately had been his fault.
“Soon. Relax.”
“Iamrelaxed.” But I was anything but. I kept thinking of Holly likethat. Making those little noises, on her hands and knees. She looked good likethat. Really good.
Fuck. I rubbed at my face. I was not fantasizing about Holly Sutton. I was not. I hated her and everything she stood for. I hated her mansion and her fancy furniture and her twenty-five computers and her stupid sandwiches that tasted so damn good. I hated her doe eyes and her pouty lips and her curvy body and that round fucking ass that looked like heaven to grab. I hated her stupid, shitty boyfriend that cheated on her with every girl he made eye contact with.
I hated her. I hated Holly.
I hated the way her cheeks flushed red as she walked down the stairs, a white charger in one hand and Brodie’s phone in the other. She looked pretty blushing.
Jesus Christ, I wanted to die. What the hell had gotten into me? One look at her ass and I was suddenly acting like some horny loser.
But I couldn’t forget it. The way she looked down on her hands and knees. How wide her eyes got when she spun around and saw me. I liked her like that. Wide eyed, flustered. She had nice lips. Pink and plush and pouty. I quickly rubbed at my face again. This was Brodie’s fault. I wasn’t supposed to be in Holly’s house, let alone her bedroom.
“Brodie, here’s the charger for the laptop,” she said with a whisper. Her cheeks were still red.
She had caught me staring upstairs. I wondered what she was feeling. Was she embarrassed? Was she pissed at me? I looked down at the floor. At the perfect, white floor and avoided her eyes.
