by Cathryn Fox
“Fend for myself? I haven’t been taken to the forest and left to survive on my own.”
“Like Snow White?”
“You need to live in this reality, my friend.”
“Still, he left you in a house full of wolves. You’re prey, Maize.”
I laugh. “No worries, I’m tucked in his room. It’s not kill or be killed.”
“Do you mean eat or be eaten, like Little Red Riding Hood,” she says with a sassy smirk that makes me laugh out loud.
I cover my mouth, hoping no one burst in to see what the excitement is all about. “Do you have to make everything about sex?”
She angles her head. “Ooh, who says I was?” She points a finger at me. “I was simply making a point, you’re the one who put a sexual spin on it.”
Maybe she’s right. Maybe my brain is thinking about sex because I’m in Christian’s bedroom, and the scent from his blankets on my skin, turning me into a hormonal teenager lusting after the star of the football team. “Goodbye, Kaitlyn.”
“No, wait,” she says quickly. “I want to see around.” I glare at her, and she hurries on with, “Look at it like you’re on a familiarization quest of his space because you’re going to be staying there, nothing more.”
“Only for a week. I doubt he’ll get the landlord to do anything.”
“So that’s a yes?”
I hesitate and glance around. “Fine,” I say, and reverse the screen so she can see what I see.
I do a slow circle to show her the entirety of the room. “Big, huh?” I say, and instantly regret my word choice. I shake my head and brace myself for a sexual response.
“You make it too easy, girlfriend,” she laughs.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Maybe because I’m not always thinking about sex like you are.” Okay, that’s a lie, I’ve been thinking about sex ever since Christian brought me to this room last night, removed his robe and put his hand on my shoulder.
I walk along one wall, cataloging his dresser and closet, which are beside the door to the hall. The wall behind the bed has a shelf with numerous medals and trophies. Across from me is a great big window with the curtains drawn for privacy and the fourth wall to my right has a door to the bathroom, a big comfy chair, a small two-seat table and a TV on the wall. It’s quite nice and comfy.
“Not much blackmail material here,” Kaitlyn says, and I laugh, hard, remembering how he teased me about my snoring. “It wasn’t that funny.”
“Yeah, I know. I think I’m nervous. This feels like snooping.” I glance over my shoulder. Maybe I should have locked the door.
“Open his nightstand.”
“No,” I say in a hushed voice. “That’s his private space.”
“Do it,” she insists. “You have to make sure you’re not sharing a room with a serial killer who keeps weapons or body parts in his nightstand.” I cock my head, and stare at her, incredulously. “What?”
“Are you for real?”
“Yeah, do it.”
I turn the screen back to me. “You’d say just about anything to get me to do it, wouldn’t you?”
She blinks dark lashes over not so innocent eyes. “I only have your best interests at heart, Maize, you know that.”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m in Christian’s room right now.”
She stands and walks to her dresser. She casts a quick glance at me after grabbing her yoga pants. “Is it that bad?
“Yes!” I blurt out, a straight up lie, and reverse the camera so she can’t see my face. Wanting her attention off me, and how I kind of enjoy being here in luxury, I pull open the nightstand drawer, and come face to face with a mega box of condoms—for her pleasure.
“Dear God,” Kaitlyn says. “Does that say magnum size? Bring me closer.”
I stifle a laugh, and slam the drawer shut, then glance over my shoulder again when I hear footsteps in the hall. I hold my breath, but they move down the hall.
“He even has his own bathroom,” I whisper.
“Ooh, fancy. Take me in.”
I tiptoe across the room, being careful in my boot, and push open the door. I do a quick scan and revel in the big tub and separate shower. “A girl could get used to this.”
“I would do anything for a bubble bath in that tub.”
“Me too.”
“Go for it,” she tells me.
“I’m not getting in his tub.”
“Why not?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Then again, he did say his place was my place.” I walk across the room and pick up a plastic bottle to examine the contents. “Grapefruit body wash.” I laugh. “No wonder he always smells like citrus.”
“You always did like grapefruit.”
I set the body wash back down, and take a big, rejuvenating breath, reminding myself who I am and who I’m not. One thing is for certain. I do not belong here, with Christian none the less, and I’d be wise to remember that.
“One week,” I say under my breath. “Then I’ll be back.”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you something,” Kaitlyn says her face twisted.
“What?”
She looks a bit sheepish when she says, “Your room kind of flooded.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Nope, we had all that rain, and you know the shingles are bad. Water dripped all over your bed and floor. Looks like you won’t be coming back here for a while.”
Son of a bitch.
10
Christian
I shouldn’t be nervous, or excited, as I park my Jeep and head back inside Wolf House. But no matter how many times I try to convince myself that I’m just helping Maize out, the thought of her in my room, my bed, does the strangest things to me. Watching her nap earlier, hearing her soft breathing sounds, her little sleep murmurs was enough to make me want to crawl in there, wake her with a hot kiss, and bury my face between her long, gorgeous legs.
Fuck me sideways.
I take the steps to the front stoop two at a time, and push the front door open harder than necessary. I catch it before it bangs against the wall, and shake my head to get myself together as I shut it quietly behind me.
Rumblings from the kitchen, along with light, breezy laughter from the girls who stayed over last night fill the front hallway. Honestly, I’ll be glad when I can get my own place and have a bit of privacy. I suppose I could have done it before now, but there was no pressing need, no girl like Maize that I wanted to keep in my bedroom all to myself. Obsessive and possessive, which isn’t really like me. Wanting to get straight to Maize and avoid small talk with my brothers, I head to the stairs, but Andrew comes from the kitchen, a bowl of cereal in his hands.
“Hey,” he says, around a mouthful of food as his spoon clinks against the ceramic bowl. He glances at his watch. “You’re back early.”
“Yeah, I cut out a bit early.” Volunteer work is important to me. Not just to look good on paper, but because I like putting a smile on the faces of sick kids, and tossing a ball around with those who can. It’s just something private I do for them and for me. I don’t want glory, and I guess it’s not totally altruistic, because I get something out of it too. I might have been born with a silver spoon in my mouth, and a nice trust fund, but I have values and morals—I did until I bought Maize—and try to give back as much as I can. I won’t always have football, and when my career is over, I want to be a well-rounded guy.
“Where have you been hiding?”
I stop on the first step and turn to him. “Not hiding, just busy.”
“I was surprised to see you in the…basement.”
I shrug and take another step. “Yeah, well. Surprise.”
He shoves a spoonful of sugary cereal into his mouth. “Who’s the girl? She’s kind of cute.”
My stomach tightens with possession. “Yeah, I’m helping her out. I injured her, so now I’m doing the right thing.”
“Thor said something about that. She’s staying here, then?”
He has a grin on his face as he questions
me, and I get it. This is out of character for me. They know it, and I know it, but I’m doing this to right a wrong. My father is a Supreme Court judge, he’s all about justice, which has rubbed off on me. While that’s all true, and no matter how hard I try I still can’t ignore the fact that she intrigues me, and I like talking to her.
“Just until she gets on her feet.” He nods, and I rush up the steps. My heart pounds a little harder as I head down the long hall to my room. I knock, and when no answer comes, I try the knob, half expecting it to be locked. I turn the handle and push it open, and disappointment sits heavy in my gut when I find my room empty.
She’s gone.
Fuck, of course she is. I probably scared her off when I told her I planned to take care of her. I drop my backpack as my gaze goes to my bed, which is now neatly made. I’m about to head back out, go to her place, put her over my shoulder caveman style and drag her back here with me, when there’s a noise sounds in the bathroom, a whine of sorts. Shit, is she in there hurt? I hurry across the room and without giving a second thought to anything but her safety, I swing the door open, and find her in the tub, singing off tune with her ear buds in, and eyes closed. My throat tightens and my entire world tilts on its axis.
Here’s the thing, I’ve seen plenty of naked women. Plenty. The sight of Maize in my tub, her bad ankle lifted and braced on the edge of the tub, as grapefruit bubbles tease her pretty pink nipples, shouldn’t rock my world quite so violently. But it does. There’s no explanation. Other than the fact that maybe I want what I can’t have.
I breathe in the scent of my body wash. In the mornings, it pulls my brain awake and rejuvenates me, but right now, it’s pulling something else awake, something that lives a little further south. I stand there for a second, immobilized, not knowing what to do. Do I run and pretend I was never here, or do I make a sound letting her know I’m home, watching her?
The choice is taken from me when her eyes open, and her head turns my way. I back up as her mouth opens, and she jackknifes up into a sitting position, her foot falling from the edge and splashing in the tub.
“Ow,” she cries, and I cringe.
“Maize, I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” She covers her lush breasts, although it’s far too late. The sight is burned into my memory and I’ll be putting that show on repeat as I take my cock into my hand tonight.
“What are you doing?”
“I came home, heard a noise, and thought you were in here, hurt.”
“I was singing.”
“Yeah, okay,” I say, and when I realize I’m still staring, I grab a towel, spread it wide and block my view as I open it for her. “Here.”
Water splashes, and her grunts and groans as she tries to climb from the slippery tub fill the room. “Stupid tub. So wet and slippery.”
Wet and slippery.
Jesus fuck, does she have any idea what kind of torture this is for me?
“I can’t get up,” she grumbles.
Sadly, I can.
I take a step toward her. “Let me help you.”
“I don’t need your help,” she barks out and my steps still.
“Okay.” I stand there, and listen to her struggles, but she’s too damn stubborn to let me lift her out. Seconds tick by, and my arms grow tired of holding the towel. She finally lets loose a frustrated sigh.
“Christian.”
“Yeah?”
“Can you…help me?”
“Yeah.”
“Just don’t look.”
“That’s going to be hard.”
Good God, what am I saying? At least the big towel is blocking the sight of my raging erection.
“Just feel your way around.”
Jesus Christ, she’s killing me.
I take slow steps and stop when my foot hits the tub. I let the towel go with one hand and reach for her. She puts her hand in mine, and her warmth seeps through my skin, arousing me even more.
“If I tug, I’m going to hurt you. I need to put my arms around you.” I set the towel on the edge of the tub, feel my way around her body, nearly swallowing my damn tongue as my hands slide along the swell of her breasts, until I have both hands under her arms. “Ready?”
“Yes,” she says, and it comes out sounding torturous, full of heated desire. Unable to help myself, I open one eye to find her staring at me, her cheeks a sexy shade of pink, her lips full, parted, like they’re waiting for my mouth.
“No peeking,” she says in a whisper full of need and want. Am I reading her right, or am I misconstruing embarrassment for desire?
I close my eyes. “What were you thinking, Maize?”
“I don’t know. Your tub is so big, and we only have a shower at my place. I didn’t think you’d be home so fast, or that I’d get stuck.”
“Next time you want a bath, I’ll help you.”
“I don’t need—”
“Clearly you do need my help,” I correct her, completely frustrated in so many ways as I lift her out, and wrap the towel securely around her. I open my eyes. Her breasts have left two damp marks on the towel, and a groan full of want crawls out of my throat.
“What?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Really, Maize? You have to ask what?”
“I…” She glances down. Does she not know how hot she is? That I’ve laid in bed and beat off to the image of her far more times than I would like to admit? That in a few minutes, I plan to do it again, because I can’t—won’t—ruin her any more than I already have?
I shake my head, scoop her up and carry her to my bed. After I deposit her on the mattress, I stand back and work to recapture my breath, not because she’s heavy—she’s not—but because I’m losing my shit big time here.
“Get dressed,” I say, much harsher than I intended. I scrub my face, and turn a bit so she can’t see my dick.
“Um, okay. Can you at least turn around?”
I turn, and head to the bathroom. Once there, I drain the tub and as water gurgles away, I rip into my pants, and throw my head back as I take my dick into my hands. I pull from the base to tip, and stifle the moan in my throat. Eyes closed, I visualize sweet, yet sexy Maize on her knees before me, her mouth open, waiting for me to feed her my cock. I tug, and reach down to grab my balls, giving them a squeeze as my breath comes faster.
“Yes,” I say quietly, the draining tub drowning any sounds as I think about putting my cock in her mouth, and spilling my load down her throat. “Fuck,” I say and just like that, I come. I lean back, and before I can get my T-shirt up, I soak it. I lean against the bathroom counter, my breath coming in labored bursts as my gaze goes to the door. Shit, I was so keyed up, I didn’t even lock it. I snort. If she’d walked in here and saw me like this, it would send her running back to her run-down apartment.
Or would it?
Fuck, it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to touch her. I tear my T-shirt off, drop it into the hamper, and grab a cloth from the sliver of a linen closet. I wash up quickly, do up my pants, and step into the other room. I can’t tell whether I’m happy or not, when I see that she’s fully dressed.
“What…what happened to your shirt?” she asks, her gaze latched on to my chest. It slides lower, and I swear to fuck her breathing has changed as her gaze moves over my abs, coming to rest on the button to my jeans.
“Got it wet,” I say and her gaze flies back to mine. I reach over my head and rub the muscle at the base of my neck. “Do you want me to help you with your boot?” I ask, as she struggles with it, her hands a bit shaky.
“No, I got it.” She finishes fastening it, and opens her mouth like she wants to say something.
“What?” I ask.
“Where…where are you going to sleep?”
“There’s a cot in the basement, I’ll bring it up.”
She nods. “Is there anything on your list that you’d like me to do?”
Oh, there was a lot of things I’d like for her to do, but none of them are on my
list. My phone pings, and I pull it from my back pocket. I text Kyle back.
“I have to go,” I tell her.
“Christian, if you want to bring someone back here, you know to…fuck…I can…I don’t know, go downstairs or something.”
Hearing the word fuck on her lips just about does me in. I take a fast breath, clear my throat and say, “The guys want to pull together a practice.”
“Oh, okay.”
“If I want to fuck, you’ll be the first to know.” Wait, that didn’t come out right. “I mean, I won’t put you out. I’ll fuck elsewhere.”
“Right, okay,” she says and swallows hard.
I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. “Do you…want to come watch?” Shit, why would I ask that. If she’s watching when I’m on the field, she’ll be a distraction I don’t need and she’s tortured me enough already.
She snatches up her backpack. “I think I’ll get some homework done. Besides, I know how bad Kyle is at catching and don’t want to risk another ball to the head.”
“Suit yourself.” I turn from her, a little brusque—even though she’s trying to lighten the mood—and I don’t mean to be a dick. I’m the one who brought her here.
“Christian.”
“Yeah?” I say without turning back to her.
“I…I really appreciate what you’re doing for me. I know it doesn’t come across that way, but I am, and I know it was an accident and you didn’t have to do this.” I peek at her. She waves her hands as she looks around my room. “Maybe someday, I can make it up to you. Maybe you could, I don’t know…just let me know how I could do that.”
Jesus fuck, please tell me she didn’t put that on the table.
11
Maize
Two long weeks have passed since Christian first brought me to his impressive bedroom in Wolf House. Two long, agonizing, sexually frustrated weeks, that is. Why again did I tell him right from the start this wasn’t about sex? That I wouldn’t have sex? He might be sleeping on a cot, but watching him walk out of the bathroom every morning with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist is torture to the utmost extreme. I’m beginning to question whether he’s doing it on purpose. Maybe he knows what it does to me, and this is about finishing what he started in the closet all those years ago.
