Page 41 of Unbossly Manners

My cotton shirt stuck to my back and I fanned it out, trying to air out the sweat. Jackson had gone to his bedroom and came out a moment later. His cheeks were rosy from the ride and his breathing was rapid.

My stomach twisted in nervous knots.

“Can I shower first?” I blurted. “I have swamp ass.”

Jackson coughed a laugh. “What?”

“I’m sweaty.”

“The bathroom’s there.” He pointed to a door at the end of the small hallway. “I’ll get a clean towel.”

He opened the hallway closet, his fingers grazing mine when he handed me the fluffy gray towel. A warmth spread deep into my belly, loosening the knots.

“We don’t have to rush.” Those bright eyes clasped mine, and I was snatched into his orbit, spinning in a new galaxy. “Would you like to eat first? After your shower.”

“Whatever you want.”

I shut the door. On the other side, I let out a long exhale. I couldn’t let my mind wander too far ahead, or I might run from the apartment. I wanted this. God, I wanted it. But I was about to reveal how unskilled I truly was with all the sex stuff. And I was starting to like Jackson.

It wasn’t the end of the world. It was just a little crush. But it meant I cared more about what was about to happen than if I had only superficial feelings for him.

I tied my hair up with a hairband from my wrist and stood under the hot water, looking at Jackson’s array of soaps and body washes. This is where he stood every morning naked, running his hands over his body, cleansing. A body I was about to taste and explore.

Under the soothing water, my muscles and mind relaxed, and I reminded myself that we only wanted sex from each other, not a relationship, which if I had to guess, scared the shit out of him.

I was his rebound girl.

Putting a name to it comforted me. And if I thought any part of this was real, it would have scared the shit out of me.

After the shower, I stood in front of the fogged up mirror, assessing my nakedness. I’d been a runner in high school, cross-country. But since moving to the city I’d taken up power yoga and the muscles had morphed. I’d always been tall and lean, but these lines were softer, and my hips had filled out. My breasts were small but perky. Thanks to the miles of walking in the city, my stomach was flat but not defined.

My knees wobbled, remembering Chip for the briefest of moments.

Fuck you, Chip. I’m going to be the queen of blow jobs when I’m through.

I banged the door open. Naked. My wet hair dripped down my back, my nipples hard from the cool air. Jackson was looking over a takeout menu. He glanced up, and the menu fluttered to the ground.

“Fuck me, Peyton.” He blinked but didn’t move.

“After your shower,” I said, trying to sound confident, but there was a tremble in my voice. My arms itched to cover up my body, but I kept them put at my side.

“Sh-shower?”

“I’d rather not suck sweaty balls.” I flicked my eyes at the aforementioned body part and a thrill ran down my back. His cock made a hard outline through his jeans.

His eyes lost the glaze and he cleared his throat, regaining composure.

“Don’t start without me.” His gaze landed between my legs.

I ducked into his bedroom before he could see my entire body had turned crimson.

I stretched out on top of his duvet, taking long deep breaths as I did during yoga, calming my nerves. I clasped my thighs together, the blood already pulsing around my sex.

My body began to shake in expectation. This was happening. It started with a joke, and then we’d signed a document.

And in a few moments, those words would become a reality.

sixteen

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