Chapter 5 Nora #2
I lean against the tile, groaning with relief and frustration. I pull my fingers out, my pussy still clenching around an imaginary thickness. Trying to soak up what doesn’t exist. What isn’t real.
And it’s never going to be real.
And then, because misery loves to torment me, I think about Brett. About his pulsing cock, deep within that woman. Filling her.
It’s possible she could be on birth control and might not be pregnant.
But still…it’s the principle of the matter.
Brett Sterling was so adamant we use condoms because he didn’t want to get me pregnant, and I just…thought he was being caring. A good partner. Even though I wanted to try, I was willing to wait—until we got married. I was willing to do that because I loved him, and now…
Now I’m in his brother’s shower, pleasuring myself to the thought of his brothers giving me what I want.
I bang my head on the shower tile.
All I’ve ever wanted is a family of my own. And I thought I’d found the right man to build that with, and now it’s gone. Like it was never mine in the first place.
I finish up my shower as the water goes cold.
Guilt ransacks me now that the euphoria is gone. Now that I’ve sated my guilty desires and thoughts.
So I shut the water off and dry myself off, toweling my hair and raking my hands through it to get the tangles out. I slip Rush’s boxers on—they’re smooth against my skin and though his hips are bigger, they fit nicely because they’re so tight.
I try not to think about the fact that I was just fantasizing about his cock in these things.
I slide the sweatpants on, which are much looser—but thanks to the drawstring, I can tie them enough they won’t completely fall off my hips. Last, but not least, I pull on the white shirt and fold my dirty clothes, sticking my underwear in my dress pocket.
No one, and I mean no one needs to see those.
When I get out of the bathroom, I head through the kitchen. The house is quiet and dark in most rooms, which makes me think Freddie has definitely retired to bed.
I’m not sure where Tommy is, if he’s even here.
He’s the youngest at twenty-three, and though I know he’s not the most social person, he does have friends he hangs out with all the time.
Zack and Chloe, a couple who are usually around at all the events, if only because he seems to favor them over his brothers, which I guess I kind of get.
True to his word, I find Rush in the living room. Shirtless, in a pair of sweatpants.
My heart stops as I look at him.
It’s not the first time I’ve seen him shirtless.
Plenty of people have seen his washboard abs and his myriad of tattoos.
There’s a sparrow on his hip, double hockey sticks over a puck above his left pectoral, and my favorite—the tribal lettering just below his navel that spells out his moniker. Rush.
“Oh, there you are,” he says, swallowing harshly. He looks around as if he suddenly remembers where we are.
Or maybe just that I’m here. Crashing at his house like a damn stray kitten. All because I got sick and Freddie didn’t want to leave me alone.
Now I’m wondering if this was a good idea at all.
Going out.
Drinking.
Dancing with Rush.
Touching myself to thoughts of him and Freddie in their damn shower.
I’m never drinking again, that’s for sure.
“So…Freddie said you have a guest room—”
Rush clears his throat and I notice his hand in his lap. Or rather, how he adjusts himself.
Is he…
Did I—
Heat floods my cheeks as my gaze drifts to his hand, and then I turn around. “Um, you know what, I can uh…figure it out—”
“Nora, it’s fine,” he says, and I hear him get up. I refuse to turn around. Refuse to look at him. “Seriously, it’s no big deal.” He comes to stand next to me.
I feel his hand on the small of my back, and the touch alone makes me turn to look at him. In the light of the house, his features are more noticeable, like Freddie. Rush’s olive-green eyes sparkle and his blond hair practically glistens underneath the incandescent lighting.
I swear, I could get lost in those eyes if I let myself.
Which I should certainly not do.
I should not fall into Russell Sterling’s captivating gaze. Here, in his living room.
His gaze roves over me for a moment before it lands on my face. “Come,” he says, his voice dark and raspier than it should be. He clears his throat. “I’ll show you the guest room.”
He doesn’t lead like Freddie does. He guides.
We walk side by side, his palm resting just above my ass, still warm and soft and more welcome than it should be.
The air between us is thick with tension and I think certainly sleep is a very good idea.
When I wake up this will all be a bad dream.
A night of weakness that will never happen again.
The hallway isn’t dark, but it’s obvious the house is at rest. All the doors are shut, save for two. Rush leads me to the first.
I peer in the doorway as he turns the lights on and then gently guides me inside.
“You can toss your clothes wherever. Don’t worry about making a mess, Freddie’s anal about cleaning, so he’ll probably be in here as soon as you leave to tidy everything up.”
His warm smirk melts my insides a fraction.
“You guys really didn’t have to do this,” I say, leaning into his space without hesitation. I clutch my clothes to my chest.
I’m acutely aware of his hand where it still rests. Never moving. I shift a bit, the motion driving it lower to rest just above my ass.
“Don’t do that,” he says softly.
“Do what?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper. My head feels hazy from the alcohol, my recent orgasm, and the way Rush Sterling is looking at me right now.
Like he’s starving, and I’m a damn buffet.
“Taking care of you isn’t an obligation, you know,” he says, his voice dark and warm. His gaze drifts to my mouth, where it hovers. “It’s what a man is supposed to do.” He swallows hard. “Make sure you’re safe. Happy.”
He bites his lip, swallowing hard. “Loved.”
His words are heavy, tinged with his own haze of drink and something else I can’t quite place.
His hand gently tightens its grip, tugging me closer, and I follow without question, the motion driving us together.
So close I could snake my arms around him like when we danced.
So close I can feel the warmth from his body emanating against me.
And then I feel him.
Or rather, his evident hardness. Heat flushes my cheeks as I realize I must’ve interrupted him when I came in, and the thought makes my damn pussy twitch. Again.
Seriously, what is wrong with me tonight? Is this the beginning of a mid-life crisis or something?
Rush reaches one hand out, pushing some wet hair behind my shoulder. “It’s what you deserve, Nora. Being a gentleman is the bare fucking minimum. Some assholes don’t understand that.”
“Rush…” I breathe his name as I lean in closer, the familiar haze hitting me all over. His scent, his dark gaze, his voice…
His words…they strike something inside of me.
He swallows hard and then removes his hand. He steps back.
“If you need anything, I’ll be up for…a while,” he says. “I’ll be in the living room catching up on my shows.” His voice shifts to one I know better. Vibrant, friendly.
“Okay,” I say as he leaves me in the bedroom.
I set my clothes down and get in bed. It feels weird. Awkward.
Not just because it’s in their house, but because it’s bigger than the guest room bed at my brother’s but smaller than the one I shared with Brett.
There’s no body to warm me. No cat to curl in my lap. There’s only the cold, stark reminder that I am alone.
I toss and turn, trying to get comfortable, but it’s no use.
So, I get up and head to the living room. Rush said he was going to watch some TV, so maybe if I zone out and watch some television, I’ll get tired enough to sleep.
Even though I’ve had enough to drink and my body is spent, my mind won’t shut off. All it wants to do is overthink and analyze everything, and I need something to numb the anxiety.
When I get to the living room, thankfully, Russ’s hands are spread out along the backside of the couch. The light of the TV illuminates him.
He turns to look at me. “You okay?”
I shake my head as I carefully walk over to the couch and take a seat on the other side. Russ looks at me in question.
“Can’t sleep. My brain it just…won’t shut off.” I twist my lips. “Thought maybe some mindless TV and some company would help?”
Russell nods like he understands. He pats the cushion next to him.
“Oh, no, I don’t want to encroach in your space, I’m okay over here.”
He shoots me a glare. “You’re not. Promise.”
His hand rests on the cushion and I stare at it like a snake about to bite me.
“Not going to bite,” he says with a smirk. “Promise.”
I know he won’t. But I’m not so sure, given my current state of mind, that I trust myself.
I scoot a little closer, but not too close.
He smirks.
“What are you watching?” I ask.
His grin spreads. “Wednesday.”
“The Addams Family show?”
He nods. “It’s freaking amazing. Seriously. Have you seen it?”
I shake my head. “No, can’t say I have. Between work and keeping up with the house—”
The air thins a bit and he frowns. “You and Brett didn’t watch TV together?”
He scoots a little closer to me.
I move a little closer if only so I don’t have to talk at a normal decibel. I don’t want to wake anyone up, after all.
“Um…” I lick my lips, not wanting to meet his gaze. “Brett and I never really watched anything together.”
The knowing look on his face is mischievous and sexier than it should be. He licks his lips as he closes the distance between us.
His leg brushes against mine, and he shakes his head. “Well, maybe now you’ll actually have some time to enjoy a show.”
“Maybe,” I say, my voice faint. Like a whisper.
Rush extends his arm around me. I should push him away, but his body is warm. Solid. Comfortable. I fall into him with too much ease.
It should not feel this easy.