Page 61 of Flaunt
Paige: Love you, Banksy.
“I gotta piss.”
I rip the blankets off and toss my phone on the bedside table. The floor is nice and cool against my bare feet. Yawning, I open the door.
Stretching overhead, I round the corner to the bathroom when a shriek makes me jump.
“Ah!” Sara slaps her hand to her chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Wow. You did not scare the shit out of me.
Her hair falls across her shoulders in thick, messy waves. There’s not a stitch of makeup on her face, and in the glow of the hallway night-light, she’s motherfucking gorgeous.
She tugs the end of her shirt, and I look down.
My cock gets hard immediately. It presses against the fabric of my boxer briefs, the head of it starting to peek above the waistband. I start to cover it, to turn toward my bedroom—but fuck it. This is my house.
And she’s wearing my shirt.
Her eyes widen, and her lips part as she stares at me.
“Did you forget to pack pajamas or what?” I smirk. “Because that looks a hell of a lot like my shirt.”
She pulls the end down again. “It’s a long story.”
“Well, I have a lot of time.”
She groans. “I spilled an entire bottle of nail polish remover on my sleeping clothes. The rest of my stuff is either dirty or not sleep-worthy. I found this shirt in the closet. It was either this or sleep naked.”
I adjust my cock. “At least tell me you have something on under that.”
“What if I don’t?”
This woman.I narrow my eyes. “We’re going to have to establish new ground rules around here.”
“What? That we should wear underwear?” She drags her gaze up and down my body mercilessly. “No offense, but your boxer briefs aren’t really doing you much good.”
My body temperature soars. Every muscle inside me flexes and pulses. I want to bend her over the sink two feet away and fuck her until she’s exploding on my cock. Would that feel good?Fuck, yeah. But would it feel good later?Hell, no.
I haven’t tasted her. I haven’t touched her, felt her mouth on me, or experienced her body wrapped around mine. Yet … I’m already having a hard time getting my mind off her.
How bad would it be if I did know these things?
She might be able to check out after sex, but I know that if I gave in to her, checking out won’t be an option. I’m not built that way. I don’t want to be that guy.
I’m not that guy.
I’m sure she knows lots of guys who will give her sex if that’s what she wants. How they look at her like she’s only a piece of ass is beyond me.
She’s so much more than that … even if I want to throttle her some of the time. Most of the time.Maybe it’s a part of her charm?
“Can I ask you something?” she asks.
I hum.
“Are you attracted to me, Banks?”
She bats her long lashes as she looks up at me, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth.
