Page 35 of Pretty Heartache

“Good girl.” He smirks.

White knuckled, I suck in another breath. It shoots to the back of my throat and slams into my lungs, nearly knocking meoff my feet. Hearing those two words catches me and my body off guard.

Did he hear Ember teasing me about him calling me a good girl, or is it purely coincidence?

My fingers tighten their grip on the helmet. I place it on my head and stomp my way over to the bike, thankful when the helmet hides my expression. Micah is quick to follow, practically pressing his chest against my back before climbing back onto his bike, as if he’s prepared to follow through on his threat to toss me over his shoulder if necessary. He waits for me to get on behind him. I carefully and quickly lift my skirt high enough to straddle the seat. At least I was smart enough to wear my converse. Once on, I fix my skirt, lifting myself high enough to pull it underneath me, and I slide forward, pressing the inside of my thighs against his sturdy frame.

The front of my soaked panties presses against him. His body tenses when I slide my hands around his waist. His muscles harden under my touch, even through his thin T-shirt. I clutch onto the fabric, fisting it with my small fingers, and press my whole body against his. I feel small next to him but protected and safe. He’s solid and warm.

The engine rumbles and vibrates beneath us. My body hums in response, the heat from Micah’s body between my legs emanating. The sensation on my skin, vibrating against my flesh, only makes me wetter.

I inhale a sharp breath and work to adjust myself again. My skirt slips back up my thighs, and I groan, knowing this will be difficult to keep down on the ride home. My skirt will be bunched around my waist by the time we get there.

With me shifting behind him, Micah freezes. His ribs stop contracting with every breath, and his muscles swell. I glance over his shoulder, wondering why he hasn’t moved and why wehaven’t left yet since he seemed adamant about getting us out of this neighborhood.

The corded muscles of his forearm twitch.

He removes his hand from the handle and flexes his fingers, stretching them before placing his hand back on the bike. Finally, he takes in a deep breath, revs the engine, and drives us home.

ELEVEN

“I’m thinking we tear the whole thing down,” I tell my brother, gesturing to the oversized, broken-down shed in the backyard.

“Are you wanting to build a new one?” Jude asks, wiping the back of his hand across his sweat-covered forehead. “Or leave this area open?”

His best friend and business partner Cain joins us, standing between Jude and me.

“I’m not sure yet.” I stare at the broken sinking pile of wood.

The shed in the backyard looks almost as old as the house. By my guess, it was probably built to be a living space while the main house was being constructed.

The wooden planks bend as they near the foundation, as if the building is literally sinking back into the earth. The mustard yellow painted planks are peeling and littered with splinters. I’ve done my best to preserve the history of this place, but sometimes I don’t have a choice.

I cross my arms and swing my gaze back up to the house. Specifically, Adeline’s window. I can’t help it. They gravitate toward her, and the longer I’ve stayed here, the more I find myself being conscious of her presence. Slowly, I started bringing over more of my clothes. Then the next week, I broughtmy toiletries. First, I was sleeping on the couch before switching to the bedroom next to Adeline’s two weeks ago. After removing all the damaged parts, Jude came over to help add in new floorboards and finish patching the lower half of the drywall. I’ve tried to save as much of the original flooring and preserve as much of the original character of the house as possible. Having all the money in the world, a bottomless bank account, allows me to stay wherever I want. After Lennon forced me to take a break from work, and before I began moving into the house, I’d stayed at the most expensive room possible. But the claws that have a grip on the pockets of my mind exposed themselves. No matter how hard you work to leave the past behind, it still has a way of appearing in the unlikeliest of times. The good. The bad. Regret. All of it rears its ugly head, threatening to consume you.

I couldn’t continue to live in solitary silence.

My moving into the house full-time was a subtle, gradual process—one I thought Adeline would have noticed or mentioned. If she has noticed or cares, though, she hasn’t brought the subject up.

For weeks, I’ve told myself my staying here is for her safety. With Soren’s threat constantly playing on repeat in my mind, I’ve stayed close to Adeline. The need to protect her has always been there. I want to say it’s because I’ve always seen her as my best friend’s little sister and there’s this natural urge to protect her, but the feeling she gave me the night she was stranded in the middle of Boston told me otherwise. The panic and anger I felt went beyond care for my best friend’s little sister’s wellbeing.

I wasn’t protecting his little sister. I was protecting Adeline.

Me moving into the house wasn’t just for her protection. I liked being around her.

Her bedroom faces the back of the house, and from here I see her standing in front of her closet. She reaches inside, pulling out one of the hangers. Her arm stiffens as she holds the dressout in front of her, examines it, then drapes it against her body, looking down at how it looks on her. Frowning, she shakes her head and stuffs it back into the closet before pulling another one out.

She isn’t standing in front of a mirror, only the closet.

I have yet to see her this morning, but from the window I see her. Her brown hair is braided and swept to the side, resting over her bare shoulder, her smooth skin catching the bits of sunlight peeking through the window.

My dick twitches, remembering what it was like to have her body wrapped around mine the night I picked her up on my bike. We haven’t spoken about that night since. I haven’t spoken to Archer much, either.

After making it home that night, I called him, even though I knew he was on his way to Austria and didn’t have cell service. In a voicemail, I laid into him for leaving his sister vulnerable, especially given the fact Soren had threatened him with Adeline. He called me back once he’d landed, apologizing and thanking me for protecting her. He said he’d make it up to Adeline somehow, but I didn’t ask for details. I didn’t want to press him for more, especially given I was having thoughts about my best friend’s sister. Ones that involved her long thighs wrapped around me and her near-bare pussy pressing against the small of my back.

“We’ll need to take everything out of here before we can get started,” Jude says, breaking my attention away from Adeline.

“Do you even know what’s inside?” Cain asks, leaning in and prying the front door open.

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