Chapter Three
Reid
C ole chuckles when I yawn so hard my eyes water.
“Long night, big man?”
A pang of regret jabs me in the chest. Staying up late watching horror movies was a bad idea for many reasons. For one, I knew I had to be up and ready to run at five this morning. But the main issue is with whom I spent that time with.
Just me and Emma on the couch.
One blanket.
Jumping at everything on the television.
She’d fallen asleep with her feet pushed against the side of my leg. When I’d heard the keys jangling outside the front door, signaling Amara’s return, I’d jolted off the couch like I’d been busted doing something truly wicked.
But it wasn’t bad, was it?
“It’s fine,” I mutter. “I’ll wake up soon enough.”
A door closes nearby. Cole’s attention darts past me and he smiles. “Morning, sleepyhead.”
I swivel around and am confused to see Emma walking over to us. She’s dressed in running gear—the new shoes I bought her, tight black leggings, and a Nike hoodie. Her chaotic dark tresses have been twisted into a messy bun.
“What are you doing?” I demand, voice sharper than I expect.
She winces at my tone. I note the dark circles around her eyes that no doubt matches mine. “Running. Is that a big deal or something?”
“Nah,” Cole says with a laugh. “Reid’s just grumpy today.”
It’s not that I don’t want her to go running with us, it’s just… I don’t know what it is. Last night was strange. There was a shift in our normal dynamic. It felt more intimate which was wrong.
“You guys going to stretch before we go?” Emma asks, grabbing her ankle and pulling it to her butt to stretch her hamstring. “My coach is a stickler about stretching.”
I’m not a fan of stretching, but Cole always makes me. He grins in triumph at me which earns him an eyeroll. While Cole leads us through his normal stretching routine, I can’t help but sneak peeks at Emma. She’s unusually pretty today.
Wait, what ?
I mean, Amara is beautiful too, so it’s not a surprise. I just never really looked at Emma like that before. But, as she stretches, I can’t help but notice the lean curves of her muscular legs. They’d been hidden under pajama pants last night. This morning, they’re on full sculpted display.
Look away, creep…
I clear my throat, choosing to stare at my worn-out tennis shoes instead.
Finally, Cole says we can end this torturous shit.
He takes off in a jog toward our usual route.
Since me and Emma partied a little too hard last night eating pizza and watching movies, we follow behind him, sluggish and slower.
I’m tempted to fill the silence with apologies about… I don’t know what. Since my brain is fuddled and confused, I bite my tongue.
It’s easy to get lost in the freedom and serenity of a quiet morning run. Brayden never cared to do this with me. Having Emma here is different, but I don’t exactly hate it. This is fine. Last night was just weird. It won’t happen again.
I make the mistake of glancing over at her.
Her plump pink lips are parted and she’s panting. The breathy sounds leaving her mouth send tickles of awareness straight to my dick. It thickens without warning.
What the fuck, man.
Are you getting hard over little Em?
A flash of anger pulses through me, killing the semi hard-on I’m sporting in my running shorts.
Not at Emma. This anger is specifically directed at me, for being weak, and Amara for putting us in this situation.
I’m not some pervert, but what if I was?
Amara wouldn’t be around to even notice or care. Emma could be taken advantage of.
Is that what will happen when I kick them out?
The furious need to protect Emma burns hot through me. I pump my legs harder and faster than ever before, blowing past her and Cole. The chilly fall wind lashes at my face and my lungs ache from exertion.
If I force Amara to leave, she’ll no doubt shack up with some random man. Hell, it’s what she did with me after a short period of dating. I can’t stomach the idea of Emma being left alone with anyone other than myself.
What if they touch her inappropriately?
What if this villainous man forces himself on her in the middle of the night?
She’ll throat punch him.
A flood of relief courses through me. Emma is tiny as fuck, but she’s full of sass and fire. She’d make that mysterious future guy regret the day he was born.
Still, she’s not Super Girl.
Emma could easily be overpowered.
Bile creeps up my throat, burning like acid. I can’t do that to her. She’s comfortable in my home. Safe and cared for. Sending her out is cruel and unnecessary.
I can wait until she graduates .
I’ll just need to make sure nights like last night don’t happen again.
When I reach a four-way stop, I stop to catch my breath.
Cole and Emma make it to me a few seconds later.
My best friend studies me intently in that cop way he has down pat, but I can’t meet his stare.
I’m sure the guilt on my face is too easy to identify and I don’t exactly want to be called out for the thoughts running rampant in my head.
“Oh,” Emma says, panting heavily. “We’re almost to this cool place. Can I show you guys?”
We both nod and let her lead the way.
Big mistake.
I’m forced to watch her muscular ass cheeks jiggle as she runs. And, like the idiot I am, I can’t look away. Cole is completely oblivious to my secret temptation, randomly pointing at cars he likes that pass by.
This is getting ridiculous.
I need to stop looking at her like that.
We travel a few more blocks where I do my best to avoid checking out her pert ass, which is an incredibly difficult feat. She leads us to a small, yellow commercial property with an overgrown yard.
“This isn’t a cool place,” Cole says, frowning. “It should be condemned.”
Emma, with hands on her narrow hips, beams at the quaint building.
She’s too pretty with the morning sunbathing her in its warm light.
Strands of gold in her brown hair light up as if on fire.
It’s hard to look away. I’m able to force my gaze away from her to the building she seems to be in love with.
“It’s charming,” Emma says breathlessly. “Right, Reid?”
The building needs work, but I can see the allure. Kind of reminds me when I’d bought Moonlit Gables. It was basically a shithole, but I knew I could make it something great.
“I like it,” I agree with a nod. “Nothing a little TLC couldn’t fix.”
We stare at it for a while longer and then Cole grunts after checking his watch. Time to get back. The run home goes by quickly. Cole parts ways with us, heading for his place to shower, while me and Emma go back to mine.
Amara’s car is now gone, leaving the two of us alone.
As the door closes behind us, electricity charges in the air. I’m distinctly aware of the fact we have one shower in this place and we both need it.
Don’t even think about sharing it with her, pervert.
“You go first,” I bite out harshly. “You have to get to school.”
She disappears up the stairs without another word. I pace the living room until I hear the shower start up. Once I deem it safe, I inch my way up the stairs. My feet slow to a stop in front of the bathroom door.
Why are you stopping, idiot?
I close my eyes and lean my sweaty forehead against the wood.
Beyond the door, I can hear the water splashing as she washes up.
I can’t help but imagine her tight ass free of the leggings, naked and soapy.
My cock is now so hard, it strains against the fabric.
Like a fool, I palm my hand over it to attempt to have it calm down.
But that feels good.
So, I rub some more.
And then I hear it.
A tiny whimper.
My eyes jolt open and my heart leaps into my throat. She makes the softest of sounds that wouldn’t be heard unless you were listening at the door like I am.
Is she getting herself off?
Why?
Because of me?
It’s stupid and unrealistic and horrible of me to think such a thing. Yet, the man who’s been denied sex for far too long, imagines she’s wishing it were my fingers touching her throbbing clit.
I bite on my bottom lip and do the unthinkable. With jerky movements, I shove my hand into my shorts and free my cock. It’s heavy and thick in my calloused hand. I stroke it roughly, wishing for a smaller, smoother hand instead. Each time she whimpers, I nearly climax right then.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
This is so wrong.
I need to just fuck Amara tonight so I can get over this forbidden need coursing through me.
Every thought of Amara, naked and writhing beneath me, transforms into Emma. I can’t force her out of my mind, no matter how hard I try. I’m outside the bathroom door as she showers, jerking off to thoughts of fucking her.
I bet she’s tight and juicy.
I’d tear her in half with my fat cock. I’d bruise her insides with every stab of my big dick.
“Oh fuck,” I mutter, voice shaking.
The water shuts off and I’m frozen. Silence fills the air.
Do I bolt? No. I continue stroking my dick as I imagine her standing there wet and naked.
A small groan escapes me as a soft splatter of cum hits the door.
I jerk hard and fast, eager to expel all this illicit need for a girl younger than my own damn son.
Once completely spent, I rip off my shirt and carefully swipe it off the door. Then, I hold the wet material to my still-throbbing cock as I stumble toward my room. I’ve barely closed the door when I hear Emma’s voice.
“All yours now.”
The shower.
She means the shower.
Not her.
I yank my shorts up over my dick and then stuff my shirt into the hamper. I’ll have to do the laundry today to hide the evidence of my sick episode a few moments ago. The thought of Amara finding my cum-crusted shirt and demanding answers makes my stomach roil.
What did I just do ?
Shame coats over me like black, sludgy oil. I want to scrape it off of me, flinging it as far away as possible. What I just did isn’t me. I’m not a cheater or some perv who checks out young woman. I’m a good man, dammit.
Good men don’t fuck their hand outside the door of their girlfriend’s daughter while she showers.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Nothing happened. It was a quick, reckless moment, but it’s over. I had to satisfy my sexual craving in a safe way, and I did. No one got hurt. Everything is fine.
Cheater.
Guilt threatens to swallow me whole.
Is it cheating to have a fantasy?
What I did feels worse than cheating or some harmless fantasy. It feels like wearing sickness and shame like a second skin. Like lust and sin twisted into a sick lollipop I just greedily ran my tongue over. Disgusting.
I’d desperately wanted Emma.
Only a door separated me from doing something unforgivable.
What if there were no door between us?
It can’t happen again.
I refuse to ever give in to those thoughts or feelings. This was a mistake I’ll have to live with until my dying day. Not even Easton or his church can absolve me from wicked thing I’ve done.
It ends now.