Page 4 of The Sound of Temptation

I slide an arm under her knees and lift her into my arms. She slips her arms around my neck. “Up these stairs,” she yells.

She’s light, but my heavy rain soaked backpack works against me and by the time we get to the top of the stairs, my lungs are burning.

“They’re unlocked,” she points at the glass paned French doors.

I open it hurriedly and step into the cool, dry room.

“Wow, this place is incredible.”

She squirms against me. “You can put me down.”

That sounds like the worst idea ever. Not only do I like the way she feels, but having her pressed to me like this is keeping my chest warm. “How’s your ankle?” I ask.

She stiffens. “It’s fine. Thank you.”

I’m a lot of things, but I never press unwanted attention on anyone. I lower her to the ground and take a step back, . “Sure, I thought you were hurt. Glad you’re okay.”

She gives me a tentative smile. “I know you were being nice, but it’s weird, you know? And I know I invited you…but I don’t know you…” she looks back at the front door like she’s hoping I’ll head toward it.

My stomach dips in disappointment. I don’t even know why. I only met her a few minutes ago. Her wanting me to leave should be no skin off my nose. If it hadn’t started raining, we probably would have parted ways already. I still, technically, have a girlfriend. I should be glad that she wants me to leave. I glance outside at the still torrential rain. My keyboard is probably already ruined, but in case it’s not…I look back in her direction and try to sound matter of fact. “Do you have an umbrella I can borrow to walk back to my car? ” Each word feels wrong as it forms on my tongue. But if she’s uncomfortable, I don’t want to make it worse by letting my disappointment show.

She blinks in surprise. “I didn’t mean for you to leave. I’m sorry. I’ve just never had anyone here before.”

“You don’t have to explain. I don’t want to impose.”

She shakes her head. “You’re not imposing and it’s really coming down out there. I’m sure I can find you some clothes to wear while yours dry and the rain calms down. We’ve got plenty of room.” She claps once and the house lights up.

“We?” I glance around the huge space. It’s an open concept room with a set of stairs separating the entrance from what looks like a living area.

“Force of habit, I’m here by myself. It’s my aunt’s place.”

“Is your aunt six two and two hundred pounds? Otherwise, her clothes won’t fit me.”

She chuckles. “No, but my brother’s about your size.”

Brother, not boyfriend. That's good. I nod. “Sure. Are the rooms upstairs? Is your ankle really okay?”

She tests it by putting weight down on it and winces. “I don’t think it’s serious, it’s sore.”

“Here.” I offer her my arm and she doesn’t hesitate to link hers through it. She lets her weight rest on me as we climb up the stairs.

“Are you sure it’s okay that I’m here?” I ask when we reach an empty hallway. I know for sure it wouldn’t be okay for her to be at my family’s house like this. Fame has made my parents wary of people they don’t know. My father would want to run a background check on her first.

“This is me," she says and opens the door to her right.

I walk her over to the bed and sit her down.

“Let me take a look at your ankle,” I kneel and lift her foot. Her sandals are pink with straps that lie across her toes and encircle her ankle. I unbuckle the straps and pull them off. Red groove marks line the places where the shoe had been in contact with her feet, like they’re too tight. She hisses when I stroke the slightly swollen inside of her ankle.

I look up at her, an apology for hurting her on the tip of my tongue. But that’s not pain on her face and when I run my hand down her instep her eyelids flutter and she sucks that plump bottom lip into her mouth.

“Do you like me touching you?” I ask in a low voice as I trail my hand up her leg. Her pink painted toes wiggle against their perch on my thigh.

“Very much, yes.” She shivers and then rubs her hands over her arms to warm up. “Can you grab me a towel from the bathroom, please?”

I’m such an ass. “Of course,” I hurry to the ensuite bathroom and grab a white towel off the stack by the shower and offer it to her with an apologetic smile.

Our hands brush as she takes the towel, and just that small touch makes me want more. She rubs the towel over her shoulders and chest and her nipples tighten and press against the thin, view ruining black fabric of her swimsuit. I wonder what color they are.

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