Page 98 of Sugarloaf Ridge Lies

Like many other nights since Liv moved in, once she’s in bed, I shower. The water grows cold as I find my release, thoughts of her, wet, naked, and enveloped in steam with me.

It’s getting harder to hold back.

There’s an invisible line.

I just can’t be the first one to cross it.

***

I’m a bad person. Acreep. I stalk the hallway more than I should, unable to stand the idea of her having another nightmare. Knowing the pain she went through, her loss, the grief that continues to strangle her, if I can stave off an opportunity for her to relive that horror, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.

A soft moan comes from her room.

Dressed in my boxers, I softly knock and pry open the door. “Liv, you alright?” The light from the hall filters into the room, creating a soft glow.

The moaning continues. I step closer to the bed. She’s wearing headphones, the volume loud enough for me to catch the slow sensual beat. Chest heaving, the silky camisole barely contains the swell of her tits.

“Hey, you okay?” I sit on the edge of the bed and tap her shoulder. “Liv?”

Her eyes flutter open, then like a woman possessed, she grips my bicep and draws me close. “Touch me, Jerry.”

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