Page 40 of Don't Fall For Your Best Friend

His eyes are like magic, casting a spell on me every time he gazes my way. How come I’ve never noticed before?

Chills skate over my skin even though I’m in the hot water.

I think back to when Paxton was cutting the clothing from my body. How intense it was. My breathing was so out of control, I’m surprised he didn’t notice.

Maybe he did.

All I know is the way he spoke to me, the way he studied me like I was a masterpiece, was something I’ll never forget.

It nearly took my breath away.

I think about the way his eyes roamed over me when I stripped for him in my bedroom. How turned on he was when he rubbed the horrible feather over my heated skin.

In my bathroom mirror is a vibrator, and I climb out of the bath to snatch it before settling back into the warmth of the water. I’m doing this.

I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I am doing this.

I push the vibrator under the sudsy water, and flick it on, pressing it right to my clit.

Oh, it feels so good.

My mind explodes with images of Paxton. How desire flooded his eyes when he saw me in my panties and bra. How husky his voice became when he told me I could bring any man to their knees. Especially him.

The vibrations cause my hips to thrust and I’m nearly there.

“Oh, Paxton,” I utter.

My body heats as my orgasm looms nearby. I keep using the vibrator on me, focusing on my clit, and lean my head back, closing my eyes. Oh god.

White-hot heat blurs my vision as I think about Paxton touching me. Kissing me. What would his lips feel like against mine?

Would he tell me he’s always thought about kissing me?

Would he tell me he wants me as badly as I want him?

My body’s nearly combusting as I bite down on my lower lip.

“Oh god,” I cry out as my orgasm hits me like a barrage of cannonballs. My body calms slowly, and I breathe in through my nose and out of my mouth. Letting my head submerge in the soapy water, my body relaxes as I emerge.

I can’t believe I just did that while thinking about Paxton.

Shockwaves rush through my body as I think about him again. I’m spent.

I guess I needed that.

“What’s that smell?” I say into the quiet of my bathroom. I get out of the tub and wrap a large white towel around myself, looking around for the smell I’m smelling.

Like roasted marshmallows.

When I walk out of my bathroom, I see the source of the smell. In my bedroom is the machine for the wax so I can wax my legs, and it’s on fire.

I rush around, debating if I should unplug the thing, or what I should do.

The outlet is fried.

The smell is disgusting.

I do the one thing we learn to do in these types of situations. I dial 9-1-1, and get dressed as I fly out of the house.

---