Page 8 of Blindsided

I start kissing her neck, needing to hear that little whimper again, and my eyes flick open when I’m rewarded with it.

“Oh, holy fuck!” I spring out of bed, my heart hammering in my chest with adrenaline. I just felt up my best friend’s little sister.What have I done?

Tilly shoots up from the bed, her eyes wide as she stares at me with her mouth gaping. The sheet pools around her hips, and naturally, I look down. You know those tits I was teasing a minute ago? Yeah, they’re every bit as glorious as they felt. Her silky sleep tank has dropped to an indecent level, and I can see everything to the edge of her nipples.

I’m staring at my best friend’s little sister’s tits.He’s going to kill me.

With that thought, I spin around to look the other way. “I’m so sorry Tills. I didn’t mean to… I was half-asleep… Fuck. I’m just sorry.”

A little giggle has me looking over my shoulder at her. She’s standing next to the bed with a navy blue silk robe on now. It does nothing to detract from her sex appeal, and I hate that I just had that thought.

“Matty, I’m twenty-nine. This isn’t my first rodeo with a man’s erection up my ass.”

I whip back around and frown at her. “What fucker has had his dick in your ass?”

She raises her eyebrows. “Did you seriously just ask me if I’ve done anal?”

“What?” I squeak out. “That’s not what I…” I tilt my head to the side. “I guess I did sort of ask that, but it’s not what I meant, and you know it.” I point my finger at her.

“I’m also not the sixteen-year-old virgin you once knew, either.” The sparkle in her eyes and the smirk on her lips make me want to bend her over my knee and spank the sass right out of her.

What? No.I amnothaving those thoughts about Tilly. I refuse to have those thoughts about her. My cock isnotabout to burst out of my tight briefs at the mere idea of my hand against her ass.Fuck.

I run my palms over my face, expelling a long breath to gather my bearings again. “I need coffee.” I walk out of the room without a word to Tilly. I’m pretty sure I hear her giggling some more, but I don’t have the wherewithal to confirm it.

I stop by my room to throw on some running shorts before I head downstairs and into the kitchen. I’m doing everything I can to get my hard-on to go away as I go through my normal morning routine. The image of Tilly sitting up in bed, her brown hair sleep-rumpled, and her eyes filled with amusement is practically branded in my mind. I have no idea how I’ll ever get it out of my head.

We grew up together. She’s like a sister to me. Sort of. Well, when I was a teenager, she was this little pest who constantly tried to hang out with me and Desmond. And if I’m honest, I never really minded when she did hang out with us. She was so smart. By the time she was ten years old, she had this uncanny ability to look beneath the surface of someone’s façade. She always knew when Desmond was holding himself back from showing his emotions. All she had to do was look at him with a raised eyebrow, and he’d crumble every time. I think that’s why they’re so close now.

She is his confidant even more than I am.

Which makes what happened this morning a disastrous mistake. I will not risk my relationship with Desmond because I did something stupid. I will apologize. I will promise to never do something like that again. And we will forget this ever happened.

As my resolve settles into place, I finish making a cup of coffee and try to find something to fix for breakfast. I’ve got eggs and veggies, so omelets it is. If Tilly can’t eat this, I’ll just make something else instead.

I have no idea how strict her diet has become. It can’t be easy to stick to a regimented plan solely because the industry decided one certain body type was best.

“You have any more coffee?” Tilly asks, making me turn from the stove. She’s got on a T-shirt and running shorts now. A part of me is disappointed she’s not still wearing those silky pajamas, but I slap that part so hard it won’t be able to get back up for a month.

“Yep, let me get it for you.” Leaving the veggies to sauté, I make Tilly her coffee. There’s an air of awkwardness around us now that I hate. “I’m making veggie omelets, if that works for you?”

“That’s perfect. After we eat, I’m going to go for a run. You’re more than welcome to join me.”

“How far are you going?”

“I’m feeling seven, but I didn’t run yesterday, so I might be too tired.”

“Fuck. Seven miles? Jesus, woman.” I hand Tilly her coffee with a shake of my head. She laughs, her smile wide enough to tell me she’s not uncomfortable with me. Maybe it was just me who made things awkward.

“I’ve been running every day for years. It helps me calm down. Now, if I don’t go for a run, I feel like my skin is crawling.”

“My runs are usually used as a warm-up.” I pour the eggs into the pan and swirl them around. It took me forever to figure out the tricks of making a perfect omelet.

“You’re such a liar. I have it on good authority that you still play soccer.”

“You and Des talk about me?” I gush, doing my best to be overdramatic.

Something hits me in the back of my head, and I look down to find a sugar packet on the floor. I gasp, feigning offense as I turn around with Tilly’s plate in my hand. “Only good girls get to eat my famous omelets.”

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