Chapter 15 James
James
After putting Georgie to bed, I sit back down at the table, and I wipe my hand across my bleary eyes.
How the hell has Georgie been getting up with Weston every three or four hours for a month?
I feel like I’m about to keel over from exhaustion, and I’ve only suffered through one night of fractured sleep.
I have a newfound respect for Georgie. Especially when all I want to do is sit here, conserving what little energy I have, but she’s been puttering around the house every damn day, cleaning, cooking, and organizing.
Either she’s the Energizer Bunny or I’m an ass for letting her do all that when she should have been resting. I’m betting on the latter.
Her behavior makes a lot more sense now that I understand how she grew up.
As a child, she was shuffled from one relative’s house to another, never truly belonging anywhere.
I imagine she learned early on to be on her best behavior, to keep quiet and be helpful, hoping they’d let her stay just a little longer.
Imagine never having a place that felt like home.
My heart breaks for young Georgie.
And here she is in the same situation again, living with me in a home that's hers only for a short time.
I spot the same stack of hospital papers, the ones that keep getting shuffled from place to place but never actually dealt with. I caught Georgie looking through them earlier, and I’m pretty sure I know what snagged her attention.
Grabbing a pen, I pull out the form and start writing. Without stopping to contemplate the importance of what I’m doing, I run into my office for an envelope and a stamp, then trot out to the mailbox.
When I’m walking back from the mailbox, Josh’s truck zips up the driveway.
“Wasn’t expecting you today,” I say after he ambles out of his vehicle.
With his chin, he gestures toward the house. “Wanted to check on… y’all.”
Given his uncomfortable pause, I’m pretty sure by ‘y’all’ he meant Georgie. “Thanks. Georgie’s still got a fever and is in pain, but Doc said the antibiotics should kick in soon and help her feel better.”
Josh swings out some grocery bags after opening the rear door of his truck. “Brought you stuff for dinner since I figured neither of you would be up for cooking. Nothing fancy, but it’ll keep you fed.”
“Thanks, bro.” I run my hand down my face. “I’m so tired, I hadn’t even thought of dinner.”
“Yeah, you look like shit.”
Didn’t he say the same thing about Georgie yesterday? It wasn’t true in her case, but it probably is in mine. So, I say nothing to defend myself. I don’t have the energy to go picking fights.
“Also, brought you a tabloid you should probably look at,” he adds.
My grimace mirrors my brother’s as I read the headline. It was only a matter of time before the press wrote another story. “I’ll read the article later, after I’ve had some sleep.”
When we walk into the house, Josh says, “Go lay down for a bit. I’ll get the food on the stove, and I’ll listen for Weston. You have that walkie-talkie thing?”
I chuckle. “The baby monitor.” I grab the monitor off the coffee table and thrust it into his hand and then I slip into bed next to Georgie.
In sleep, she’s warm and pliable. Unguarded. Her lush body fits next to mine with ease, and I nestle into her as a contented sigh escapes my lips.
What feels like five minutes later, I crack open my eyes. Judging by the slant of the sunlight streaming through the window, it must be late afternoon. Sitting up, I realize I’m alone, as the bed beside me is now empty.
I recognize the sound of the shower running in the adjacent bathroom, and wicked thoughts run through my addled mind.
I’d love nothing more than to slip into the bathroom, strip off my clothes, and jump into the shower with Georgie.
Naked, her body slick with soap, my hands would wander, caressing every rounded inch of her.
I’d watch the water sluice down her ample curves as she sank to her knees in front of me and—
“Oh, good, you’re up.”
Caught up in fantasizing about Georgie, I didn’t hear Josh enter the bedroom. I whirl around, looking like a creep hovering outside the closed bathroom door while my fake wife showers.
Oh, I’m up all right, just not in the way Josh meant.
“Weston’s been awake for a bit, and he seems ready to eat. Want to tell, um, Georgie?” Josh asks.
“Sure. Be right out. Thanks.”
Josh nods, backtracking out of the room, closing the door behind him.
I knock on the bathroom door, but don’t get a response. She must not hear me over the shower and the heater she has cranked up. Shifting from foot to foot, I twist the knob, pushing open the door. The bathroom is full of steam.
I clear my throat and call her name.
Georgie still doesn’t hear me.
I call her name again.
Still nothing.
Fuck. I take a couple of steps closer. Though the glass shower doors are fogged, I can make out the planes and valleys of her sensual body.
She’s even more beautiful than I imagined.
She’s leaning back, rinsing her long, dark hair under the water’s spray.
With her back arched, her dusky nipples point heavenward.
I’d be in heaven if I were in there with her, ravaging her body. She’s been so tense. A screaming orgasm is exactly what she needs to relax.
But then a different type of scream pierces the air.
“Ahhhh!” Georgie yelps when she opens her eyes and catches me watching her bathe. She crosses her arms over her body as she squeals, “What are you doing, James? You scared the shit out of me.”
On unsteady feet, I pivot, bowing my head and facing away from the shower. “I’m sorry! Josh wanted me to tell you that Weston is awake and ready to eat. I tried knocking and calling for you, but you didn’t hear me.”
The shower stops. I raise my head, glancing at the mirror in front of me, watching Georgie in the reflection.
“I see you looking at me, Mr. Harper,” she remarks, arching her brow.
I lift my head to the ceiling with a groan. “Can you blame me? You’re fucking gorgeous, Georgie.”
“You don’t have to say that,” she says, her throaty voice barely above a whisper. She grabs a towel from the towel rack and wraps it around her body, ducking her head.
I hate that Georgie can't see how stunning she is. I turn around and take a step forward. “I’m saying it for a reason, Georgie.” Taking hold of one of her hands, I place it over the bulge in my pants. “This is what you do to me. You make me fucking harder than a rock, woman.”
Realizing what I’ve just done, I drop my hand from hers. But she doesn’t move her hand away from my dick. In fact, she squeezes me and then caresses my length from root to tip. Closing my eyes, I breathe through my nose, intoxicated by the feeling of her hand on me.
When she pushes her hand under the waistband of my sweatpants and grips me again, I let out a low moan. She swipes her thumb across the tip, spreading my pre-cum around. A fire grows in my belly with each tug and caress.
“Since you’re stuck feeling me up every three hours, I probably owe you this much, right?” she murmurs.
Her words hit me in the solar plexus, shocking some sense into me. She’s only touching me because she thinks she owes me.
I put my hand on Georgie’s wrist and pull her hand from my pants.
She's vulnerable and sick, and she's staying under my roof.
I can't allow her to hold some twisted belief that she owes me anything, that my kindness comes with sexual strings attached. So, I take a step back, and Georgie’s arm falls to her side as confusion mars her features.
I take another step and then another as she watches with wide eyes, not saying a word.
When I hit the bathroom door, I mutter an apology. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’ll be in the living room with West.”
Then, I hustle out of the bathroom, moving faster than a mosquito at a nudist colony.
When Georgie joins Weston and me in the living room, she seems composed. Calm, even. Or at least, she doesn’t seem like she wants to grab the baby and run screaming from my house after I practically forced her to give me a hand job. I wouldn’t blame her if she did.
As she walks across the room, I take in what she’s wearing. A tank top, sans bra, and a pair of skimpy shorts. It’s all I can do to keep my eyes focused on Georgie’s face and not on her tits as they bounce and sway with every step she takes.
She’s killing me.
“Smells good. You cooking something?”
Shaking my head, I reply, “Nah, Josh brought dinner stuff. He’s in the kitchen making fajitas.”
“That's nice of him.”
She can’t hide the surprise that coats her voice. Georgie’s impression of Josh isn’t a good one. My younger brother is funny, charming, and kind, but he’s also extremely loyal and protective. Right now, he’s so intent on protecting me that he’s punishing Georgie unfairly.
“It is.”
She sits down on the couch next to me, keeping a good bit of space between us, but she angles her body toward mine. “About what just happened—”
Cutting her off, I say, “I’m sorry. I—”
“Stop.” She nibbles on her bottom lip and looks up at me, her blue eyes clear. “I… I liked it.” My heart stops beating. “It felt nice knowing that I turn you on,” she admits softly.
My cock hardens in my pants. Again. Scrunching my eyes shut, I count to ten. No matter what Georgie says, she isn’t in a place for us to start anything. She’s sick, exhausted, and only living with me because she didn’t have another place to go.
But when I open my eyes again, there's lust swirling on her face, and I feel conflicted.
“Look, Georgie,” I start with a sigh, “it was a biological response. You’re hot, and I’m a dude. A dude who’s tired and wasn’t thinking straight. As much as I enjoyed it, I shouldn't have done that."
An unreadable look crosses her face before she drops her eyes and mutters, “Oh, okay.”
Was that a look of disappointment?
And because I'm exhausted and my brain is fried, I add, "I'm not saying it can't happen again, but let's revisit the issue when you're feeling better."
Her lips tip up and she nods.
I'm so fucked.
If I thought our situation was messy before this, it will get a whole lot messier if we start messing around.
But I've always been a fan of getting dirty, and if she doesn't stop looking at me like that, then I'm liable to forget why it's a bad idea.