Page 32 of Bring Me To My Knees

This fucking bitch.

“Okay,” I say, not even bothering with putting up a fight.

“You’re not even going to fight me about it? How sad,” she says.

I know she’s trying to get under my skin, but I’m too fucking tired to fall into her trap.

“I’ve got nothing to fight you over, Riley. You’re right, it’s not unreasonable,” I reluctantly agree.

She could be making things a lot worse for me, and I’m completely aware of that.

“Now that we’ve agreed on something, let’s enjoy dinner,” she says, smirking.

Two hours later, I’m finally pulling back up to Mitch’s house. Marley’s car is in the driveway now, and my stress level is completely maxed out at the moment.

The house is dark, aside from a hallway light on, and a light coming from upstairs.

“Marley?” I call out.

Nothing. Now I’m nervous. Was I gone too long? Is she okay?

“Marley?” I call out again, with no answer.

I run upstairs, only to hear music coming from her bedroom door. No wonder she couldn’t hear me yelling, that shit is loud as fuck.

I smile when I realize she’s belting Taylor Swift. I push the door open a small amount, peeking my head inside.

When I see she’s barely wearing anything, I realize I’ve made a huge mistake.

Her long auburn hair is falling down her back in waves, almost like she just pulled it down from a bun. She’s wearing a tiny black lace, silk top and a pair of silk dark pink shorts with a black bow. The shorts are so small, and her perfect fucking ass is hanging out.

I couldn’t stop staring even if I wanted to. Jesus Christ, this woman is so unbelievably sexy, and she has no idea.

She turns around in my direction, freezing when she notices me staring at her.

“What the fuck, Clark?” she hisses, stopping the music.

I can see a sliver of her stomach showing, and I’d do anything to fucking run my tongue across it.

“Hello?” she says, impatiently waving her hand in front of my face.

I realize she’s closer now, because I can smell her.

“You smell fucking incredible,” I say, without thinking.

“Uh, thanks.” She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, and maybe I have.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be a creep. I was calling your name and you didn’t answer. I came up to investigate.”

“I’m eighteen years old. I don’t need a babysitter. What if I had company here?” She huffs.

“You better fucking not,” I say, without thinking.

She narrows her eyes at me, crossing her arms over her chest. I really wish she wouldn’t fucking do that, because I’m already about to fucking come apart standing here looking at her. I don’t need her to display those perfect tits in my face.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, you better fucking not ever have someone in here.”

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