Chapter 14
O ver the weeks, I’ve come to learn Garrett’s morning routine. He wakes up just before six and takes a shower. Usually he’s in there for around twenty minutes, and I often wonder if this is where he relieves himself. I mean, all men do it, right?
I’ll bet Garrett looks hot as hell with his cock in his hand. It’s bound to be big, too. Everything about Garrett is big.
I lie with my head on the pillow, staring at the ceiling and thinking about last night.
Him calling me pretty felt like a victory.
It also confirmed all those suspicions I’ve had that he’s holding himself back from me, and now that I know I’m not the only one with an attraction, I can start to have some fun.
What Garrett did last night was completely out of order, and the fact I liked it isn’t what’s important here. What is important is that he laid down the foundation for the game. Now it’s time for me to show that I want to be a player.
When I hear the running water shut off, I get out of bed, and check my hair before I head out to the hall.
The door to the bathroom is closed, and before I attempt to twist the handle, I take a deep breath for courage.
Garrett is temperamental, I never seem to be able to gauge what mood he’s in, and I really hope that today he’s in the mood for this.
Thankfully the door is unlocked, and the room is full of steam when I step inside.
Garrett is at the basin, wearing a towel wrapped around his waist and the water droplets on his back make his skin glisten.
He’s brushing his teeth, and frowns at me in confusion through the reflection of the mirror when he realizes I’ve let myself in.
I watch him spit into the basin, keeping his eyes on me suspiciously as I head toward the shower. He doesn’t ask me what I’m doing. He doesn’t tell me to get out. He just stares.
His dark hair is wet and hangs over his forehead, almost covering his eyes.
His shoulders are broad and strong, and thanks to the mirror, I can appreciate the dark line of hair that starts at his belly button and trails beneath the towel.
He shows me no weakness, and gives no reaction, so I decide to up the ante.
I’m about to cross the line, and despite being nervous about it, I somehow manage to hold it all together.
I grip the hem of the tank top I’m wearing and slowly lift it up my body and over my head.
Garrett doesn’t remove his eyes from our reflection, despite the fact I’m now standing completely topless in front of him.
He continues to scrub his teeth, and even when I smile at him, he keeps his eyes stern and expression hard.
Next I slide my hands into the PJ shorts I’m wearing, shimmying them off my hips so that they drop to the floor; and the mouthful of foam Garrett spits into the sink comes out a little more aggressively, but his eyes still don’t move.
I watch him swill his mouth out, then grip the basin in his hands and lower his head.
Is it cruel that I enjoy his suffering?
Am I crazy for poking the bear?
I watch his shoulders heave up and down, and the reaction I’m getting from him puts a tingle inside me that feels a little too desperate to maintain.
Turning my back on him, I step around the glass barrier and turn on the faucet.
Whether he loves me or hates me for it, I’m pretty sure I just guaranteed myself a place in Garrett Carson’s thoughts for the rest of the day.
The water comes out at just the right temperature, and I let it soak my hair and warm my skin.
I’m feeling powerful until I turn around, and the breath I take turns into a gasp.
Garrett stands in front of me with a scowl on his face.
His fingers grip around my throat and he forces me against the glass panel behind me.
“You should be careful, little girl. Keep fucking teasing, and I might just bite.” His threat sends a shiver over my skin, and as the water pelts over his head, dripping through his hair and onto my body, he looks between us and studies every inch of me.
I want him more than I want to take my next breath.
And the strain I feel in his fingertips tells me he wants me, too.
I can feel his cock’s hard, under his drenched towel, because it’s pressing against my stomach. Yet, I’m not afraid of it. I want it. I want it to be him who takes my innocence. Right now, it feels like it already belongs to him, anyway.
“I mean it, Maisie, stop the games,” his forehead presses into mine and breathes me in, like he’s allowing himself a little fix. I close my eyes and wait for him to give in to the pull between us. And when I feel his touch slip away, it makes me want to cry.