Page 105 of Broken Trails
“That’s it. No more.”
Steam still clings to my skin as I step out of the bathroom, towelling my hair. My body’s warm, clean, and smells like coconut from the lotion I just worked in.
My skin’s been cleansed, smoothed, and is marinating in every drop of moisture applied. I’m halfway to my dresser when my phone chimes on the bed.
Michael:You up?
Me:No, I’m asleep.
Michael:Don’t be smart with me, Freckles. You’ll get me hard.
My mouth curves, because of course, he’d go straight for it.
Me:Wow. That quick?
Michael: That’s what you do to me.
Me: Tragic for you.
Michael: Not tragic. Urgent.
Me: You’re ridiculous.
Michael: And you’re avoiding the fact that I’m lying here, hard as a rock, thinking about you.
Michael: Naked.
Me: And you’re assuming I’m naked.
Michael: Don’t tell me you’re wearing clothes. I’ll be personally offended.
Me: A silk robe.
I grab my phone and, before I can overthink it, snap a quick selfie—silk robe hanging loose over my flimsy cotton PJs. The shorts are indecently short, but they make my ass look great, and I know he’ll appreciate that. I send it, then flop back onto my bed, settling into the pillows.
Michael: Fuckkkk. You’re trying to kill me.
Michael:I’m coming over!! Now!
Me:No you are not.
Michael:Fine… then leave the door unlocked so I can sneak in like a criminal.
Michael:Actually, no. Do not do that.
Michael:You’re killing me. Please. I need you.
I giggle at his texts, loving every second of knowing he’s squirming over there. But the moment I picture him lying in his bed naked, all riled up, my stomach starts doing Olympic-level flips. The sudden sound of my phone ringing causes my breathing to falter.
His name appears on the screen, and I freeze for a second. I hesitate, but before I can talk myself out of it, I swipe to answer. “Hello?”
“Don’t sound so sweet,” he drawls. “You’re the reason my cock’s this hard right now.”
I snort, though my pulse spikes. “I’m flattered. Really.”
Soft, rhythmic sounds filter through the speaker on his end. Like skin against skin. His breathing is uneven, punctuated by a low hum, like he’s holding himself back.Holy fuck… is that what I think it is?
“Touch yourself for me, Zoe.”
