8. Sawyer
8
SAWYER
“ A ngel,” I say, wondering if she can hear me with her music on.
“Uncle Sawyer,” her muffled voice sounds through the wooden door.
“Dinner’s ready.” I train my ear to listen to what she says next.
“Come in.”
Swinging open her door, I freeze on the spot as she bounces on the bed, panting breathlessly.
Her naked body before me in offering. Her flushed face comes into view as she faces me and opens her eyes. It all happens so quickly. Too quickly. The teddy squished between her thick thighs springs free as she jumps from the bed, clattering on the other side as she crashes against the bedside table.
Fuck.
“Angel?” I stride into the room and jump over her single bed. Blood trickles down her temple as I cup her face in my palms. “Angel, talk to me.”
Her eyelids open to reveal her beautiful sky-blue irises. She glances around and looks down at her naked body. “Oh my gosh.” Her arm reaches onto the bed as if searching for something.
“Are you hurt? Angel, talk to me.” My heart pounds against my chest. I have my girl naked before me, but I push all thoughts aside. My dick can think about her naked body later. All I care about now is her and if she’s hurt.
Her eyes flash to mine, this time laced with fear. “I’m naked.”
“I don’t care about that. You think I haven’t seen a naked woman before? You’re bleeding.”
She looks down at her body as if she’s trying to figure out where. She winces as she bends her knee.
My hands glide down her leg until I reach the graze on her knee with a small gash and bruise, but I’m more worried about the cut on her head. “Can you get up?”
She nods, wincing as she tries to stand, but fails and drops back against the bedside cabinet. “I’m dizzy.”
“Let me help you.” I slip my arm around her waist, my other hooked under her legs, and lift her onto the bed. “Wait here.” I walk into the bathroom, open the cabinet, and grab the first aid kit.
“I’m so embarrassed.” She’s wrapped the towel around her body, but it doesn’t quite cover her belly. Her palms hide her face, her wet hair hanging limp around her shoulders, one side angelic and the other dark and dangerous, like a temptress taunting me.
“Don’t worry about it.” I kneel in front of her and pull her hands away from her flushed face.
She gasps when she sees the blood on her fingers.
“You’ve cut the side of your head.” I press a cotton pad against her temple.
She wipes her shaky hands on her towel. “Is it bad?”
“No, but I’m more worried about concussion.” I clean the blood from around the wound, and open a box of plasters and place one over her small cut. “You might have some bruising tomorrow.” My hands roam over her shoulders and down her arms, searching for any more injuries.
“My knee hurts.” She flexes her leg, wincing as she straightens it, then bends it again.
I hold her calf in my hands as I inspect the graze. Her smooth skin is like silk beneath my palms and I want to slide my hand higher between her thighs, aware that she’s bare.
Unable to control my eyes, they flick to the sliver of flesh on her belly where the towel doesn’t quite meet, then the crease where her belly touches her thighs, keeping her modesty. As much as I love her curves, I desperately want to see her bare pussy, like a piece of buried treasure that I need to dig for, and I want to explore that crevice with my tongue.
Willing myself to focus back on her knee, I kiss the graze just like I would when she was a little girl, only now I want to kiss all the way up her thigh.
She sucks in a breath at the contact, her body shivering. Our eyes meet. Her chest rises and falls beneath the towel clutched at her breasts.
“I think you’ve just bruised it. Just rest and hopefully it should be better tomorrow.” I stand before my hands or lips take on a mind of their own. My dick’s already hard as a fucking rock, thinking he’s getting some. I hate to disappoint the lad, but there’s no way I can go there with Colin’s daughter. Even if she was calling my name.
My palm runs over my face as I stifle a groan. I only came up to tell her dinner was ready. “Fuck. I left the dinner on.” I dash out of the room and take the stairs two at a time as fast as my long legs will carry me.
I pull the food from the oven, praying it’s not ruined. I wanted to make something nice for her, to make her feel like she’s at home like when her mother was alive, but all I’ve managed to do is embarrass the lass and probably give her concussion. It wouldn’t surprise me if she stays in her room.
Steam rises from the tray of food like the rising heat in my cheeks as I rough a hand over my face, wondering how I can put things right.
“Is it okay?” Her soft voice says behind me.
I relax my shoulders at the soothing tone, glad she’s made it downstairs. “It’s a little burnt around the edges, but it’ll be fine.” I grab a ladle from the utensil rack and serve up the shepherd’s pie, another one of Tesco’s finest, but I did add some cheese to the top.
Angelica sits at the breakfast bar, her face still crimson, matching her pyjamas, her head faced down while she tugs the cuff of her sleeve.
Clearing my throat as if trying to clear the tension in the air, I slide her plate over to her, then open the drawer to get her cutlery.
“Thank you.” Her voice is barely a whisper, like a mouse, as she gingerly takes the knife and fork from me and sinks back into her slumped position before she’s caught in my trap.
I sit across from her, taking the same position I always do. Snow settles against the window like the perfect picture postcard outside, but in here, the atmosphere is frosty despite the heating being on full blast.
I clear my throat again before taking a mouthful of the potato and mince. Anything to cut through the silence. “How do you feel?”
She doesn’t look up at me. With her face down, staring at her dinner, she twirls her fork around the plate. “I feel sick.”
I drop my fork onto the plate, causing a clatter as I stand from the stool and grab her a glass of water. Walking around to her side of the breakfast bar, I hand her the water. “Have a drink.”
She does as I ask, then places it on the counter with a trembling hand.
I gently tilt her chin to get a good look at her pupils.
She moves her head away from me and looks down.
“What’s wrong? Is it the light? Does it hurt to look at the light?” I glance back out the window at the snow piling up, wondering how the hell I’m going to get her to the hospital in this. I left the pickup at the building site and there’s no way her car or my motorbike can get anywhere in this.
I pull her face back to mine. “Tell me, angel, are you still dizzy? Blurred vision, headaches?”
“I’m fine. I only feel sick with embarrassment. I don’t have a concussion.” Her cheeks glow red under the kitchen lights.
Sitting back on the stool, I let out an exhale, my shoulders relaxing a little. I dig my fork into the pie. “Everyone masturbates.”
She coughs, spluttering food from her mouth.
Fucking hell, now I’ve made her choke.
I round the counter and pat her on the back as she coughs again. “Get it up.” My palm rubs soothing circles on her back as she shakily takes another drink of water. I should just call it quits today and go to bed before I actually do some damage and really give her something to choke on. Since I saw her in the shower, I’ve thought of nothing but burying myself so deep inside her, I forget my own name.
“I’m all right.” She takes another drink and I reclaim my seat again.
“Sorry. I just mean, you don’t have to be embarrassed with me. It’s perfectly normal to touch yourself. I’ve done it many times. In fact, I rub one out every time I take a shower.”
Her eyes widen as she gazes up at me. “You do?”
“Well, sometimes.” A smile curves my lips. “I’ve never defiled a teddy bear before, though.”
She covers her face with her palms. “Oh my gosh. You saw that?”
A chuckle escapes as I scratch my beard, wishing it was my face she was riding instead of a fucking teddy bear. “You violated Mr. Snuggles.”
She bursts into a giggle, and I chuckle along with her. “Poor Mr. Snuggles.” Her palms press against her heated cheeks.
Poor Mr. Snuggles my arse. He’s a lucky bastard, that’s what he is. “He’ll never be the same again.” Another chuckle rumbles from my chest. “Does he need to go in the washer?” I raise an eyebrow, wondering just how desecrated Mr. Snuggles is.
“No, I just gave him a wipe.” The crimson in her cheeks is back with a vengeance. “I didn’t…you know.” She plays with her necklace. The aquamarine stone set inside the silver key matches the colour of her eyes.
Shit. All this time she’s been left hanging, unable to finish. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come in your room, but I knocked several times. Then I heard you say my name and…” I run a hand over my face. Shit. I’ve said too much.
“I didn’t say your name.” Her voice wobbles, then she swallows as if she’s gulping down a Christmas bauble.
“My mistake. I thought I heard you say come in .” I don’t want her to feel embarrassed any more than she already does, so I’ll gladly go along with the lie. But I know she definitely said my name. “You must have just said you were coming , or something…”
“Can we not talk about it? I just want to forget the whole thing.” She moves the food around her plate again.
“Sure. It’s already forgotten.” That memory will never be forgotten. Her bouncing tits with my name on her lips will live in my head rent-free for eternity. And I’ll be playing that back like a movie reel on a loop the next time I take a shower.
I smile at her to reassure her, but I shouldn’t be here. I should’ve gone the first night when I had the chance. Looking out at the dark night, the snow continues to fall, trapping me here with my sinful thoughts and the woman wet dreams are made of. It’s as if the devil on my shoulder is whispering that it’s okay to take what I want, but the angel on my other shoulder reminds me of who she is. My Angelica, my best mate’s little girl, only this girl is now a woman with a body that could make any man commit a crime in the name of love.
There’s no denying I love the lass. Always have, but the longer I’m forced to stay in this close proximity with her, the more I’m lusting after something I can’t have.