Page 22 of Hostile Rival
Messy, loose hair hangs by her face and the lunar rays catch in her eyes, so they glisten like polished silver.
She’s exquisite.
The instant her bottom lip slips between her teeth, an extreme sensation rockets through me.
Fuck. I want this woman.
She crosses her arms over the thin cotton tank top, covering her tits, the cool temperature playing havoc with her nipples. I reposition the painful boner straining behind my boxer briefs and head for the kettle. Filling it with bottled water, I grab a pack of smokes from the countertop and light one while it boils.
“You want one?” I ask her, exhaling a cloud of smoke and holding up the cigarettes.
“If I take one, will you leave me alone?”
I chuckle, pinch the butt between my lips, and open the cupboard above the microwave to find the tea I'd unpacked the day before. Then, pouring hot water into a couple of mugs, I dunk in my mama’s favorite Irish tea bags a few times. After spooning a heap of sugar into each, I stir and finish with some milk.
I’m before her in a few confident strides, handing her a mug of hot tea. Her eyes narrow on the offering, clearly skeptical.
“What is it?”
“Tea.”
She frowns. “You drink tea?”
“Sometimes.”
“Is it poisoned?”
“Not tonight,” I quip with a teasing smile.
Dani accepts the drink and takes a cautious sip, nodding in approval. “Not bad.”
“You doubted I’d give you something less than exceptional?” I muse. “When I was a kid, my mama would make me sugary Irish tea if I was upset. These days, I’ve found it helps mild hangovers or sleepless nights, when alcohol won’t work anymore.”
She lifts her feet up on the chair and tucks her thighs into her chest. I catch a glimpse of her pussy, albeit covered by flimsy shorts, but fuck, I can’t breathe.
“My mama would warm up hot milk and honey. Sort of similar, I guess.” She shrugs lightly and takes another sip, her expression sad.
“Where’s your mama now?” I ask, genuinely interested.
Dani bites her lip and shrugs a little. “Cancer got her,” she mutters. “Thanks for the tea. You can slide on back to bed.”
“Nah, I’m wide awake.” I feign indifference, even though I’m seeing stars from staring at her for too long. “The sun will be up soon.”
Backing up, I pick the armchair opposite her and sit. Strangely, I want to get to know my rival as much as I want to devour her. I guess understanding her is as far as our connection could ever go, given the circumstances.
“So, who’s Margo?” I ask over the top of my mug, watching her lashes flick up and her lungs expand.
Dani drops her feet to the floor and straightens her posture, sitting rigid. “Why would you ask me that?”
“You called out for her in your sleep.”
“No, I didn’t.” She argues, her forehead creasing as she thinks.
“To quote, you said, ‘Margo, where are you?’”
Her troubled gaze settles on the milky tea and stays there as if she’s trapped in a memory. From the screams earlier, I’m guessing it’s a bad one.
I continue to wait for an explanation, wondering if she’d ever open up to me, or why I actually care that she looks devastated.
