Page 33 of Stealing Sunshine

I chuckle. “Yeah, Sunshine. I’ve dated my fair share of women.”

With a glance over, I catch the slight flush of her cheeks before she dips her head and lets her hair hide them from me. The deep red waves are thick and shiny, healthy in the way they bounce even with the slightest movement of her head. I’d bet it feels just as smooth between my fingers as it looks.

I curl my hand into a fist and shove it beneath my thigh.

“Well, then I think we could pull it off,” she states.

“You don’t need to pay me back for staying here. It’s not some huge burden, and you’re not getting a room for free.”

“Maybe not, but I feel like I do. And this is the perfect way to do it.”

“No,” I say, deciding for the both of us.

She scoffs in her throat. “Yes. Unless you have some serious reason as to why you can’t, then we’re going to be fake lovers.”

“You’re pushy.”

“Thank you.”

My laugh is genuine but short. “It wasn’t a compliment.”

“I’m not pushy. I’m just sure of myself and what I’m offering. It will work, I’ll make sure of it. And once your mom grows to realize that you’re not interested in any of these men she keeps feeding you, we’ll call it off and go back to whatever we are now.”

“Feeding me?” I ask, stuck on that one part of her statement. “I’m not a succubus.”

“No? Could have fooled me.”

“Now I’m the one getting offended.”

She hits my arm with hers and laughs louder. Fuck, she has a pretty laugh. Like a wind chime blowing through a quiet, dull night.

“Don’t be offended. Look at you, Bryce. You could eat men for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Late-night snack too,” she teases.

“I prefer fruit to vegetables.”

“Oh yeah? Do you have a favourite fruit?” she asks. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s baiting me.

“Peaches.”

Her throat bobs, eyes darting to my thighs. I follow her stare and realize how high my skirt has ridden up. The denim is tight, but I like it that way. And right now, it’s high enough that both of my thigh pieces are fully on display. Peaches, juice, and fangs.

My body is covered in sexual innuendos. From my first piece, I knew I wanted every bit of ink to mean something. And once I got started, I couldn’t stop. An addict in every definition of the term. The rush I feel with the press of a needle to my arm is the closest thing to an orgasm that’s available without fingers in my pussy.

I’m proud of every design on my skin and always make sureall of my favourites are placed somewhere I’ll be able to see them at any given time. My twin cobras are no exception.

“Did they hurt?” she asks, voice airy.

I twist the thigh closest to her, showing the inner parts of the design with a risk of flashing my panties. She doesn’t tell me to stop, so I don’t.

“Like a bitch. Especially right here.” I trace the underside of the peach where it curves high up my inner thigh, exactly four inches below my bikini line. “The nerves here are incredibly sensitive.”

“I bet.”

She’s leaned in to see, and I don’t move in fear of scaring her. With her eyes so focused on the area between my legs, I fear they’ll start to shake. When I can’t help but clench between them, I decide we’re done and slam them shut.

“Anyway. We’d have to convince everyone. Your brother included,” I say, changing the subject.

Daisy sits back, nodding almost to herself before pushing her hair behind her neck. She smiles at me, shifting on the counter.

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