Chapter 22
Myssa
Ismile widely to myself, wishing what Vix said was true.
I toss my phone next to me on the bed, and laying back, I go back to my daydream of Zayne in the shower.
His hands soaping up his body…from the looks of his arms and how toned they are, I can only imagine what the rest of him looks like.
The thoughts are torturing me, and the flames from them burn in my mind as I close my eyes, contemplating touching myself to relieve the ache that has taken over.
There’s a soft knock on my door. Startled, my eyes shoot open, and I immediately fumble, trying to sit up. Way to be smooth, Myssa. If the heat of embarrassment wasn’t visible before, it’s clear and present now. I can safely say I was not ready for what greets me.
Zayne, his dark hair tasseled, wearing a pair of dark sweats cut low and showing off his chiseled, tattooed body, the V cut of his hips with those sexy little veins that stretch below his waistband. Good fucking God, is he going commando? I’m gawking, I know I am, and I honestly don’t give a shit.
Where the fuck is his shirt? Sweet Jesus, he is doing all sorts of things to me, with his one arm above his head, holding onto the top of the doorframe as he leans in.
I’m not even apologetic about my stare, as he’s not playing fair.
And by that mischievous grin staring back at me, he knows exactly what he’s doing. He breaks the silence.
“Do you know what you want to eat?”
“Yeah, you,” I mumble, not realizing I said it out loud.
“I’m sorry?”
Oh fuck. My eyes widen, and I die a little inside, but quickly recover.
“Um, no, I’m not really picky,” I squeak out. Jesus, Myssa, focus.
He just smiles. “Pizza it is, then.” He walks away, and I silently curse at myself again to get it together.
Just when I think I’m safe enough to let out a deep sigh and close my eyes, he pops his head back in, scaring the crap out of me.
“What do you like on your pizza?”
“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me,” I say, holding my chest.
“Sorry.” He chuckles.
“Anything but olives and mushrooms,” I blurt out.
“Got it, ok, I’ll go order.” He taps on top of the door, still showcasing that damn grin.
Awkwardly, I answer to his back as he walks away, “Cool beans.”
Cool beans, cool beans?? Oh my fucking God, what the hell is wrong with me?
I smack my forehead in disbelief at how awkward I have become. I feel like my body and mind are betraying me and making me look like a bumbling idiot. This isn’t me—since when do I have a problem talking to anyone?
The image of him leaning on the door invades my mind, and the heat at my core builds up again.
It’s been so long since I’ve been with anyone.
What he is doing to my mind and body feels like a new level of crazy.
I store the memory of him away for a later time.
Right now, though, it’s definitely time for a shower—a cold one, if I’m smart.
After my shower, I pull on my boy shorts and tank top. As I begin to towel-dry my hair, I hear a soft knock at my door.
“Come in,” I say as I step out of the bathroom.
“Hey, Myssa, pizza is—” but in mid-sentence, he pauses.
I turn towards the door to question what's wrong. But he's just standing there, staring at me.
Still drying my hair, I look at him, confused.
“Everything ok?” I ask.
He swallows hard. “Yeah, I just…I just…wanted to tell you…uh…” but his eyes roam my body.
I watch as he slowly makes his way back up to my eyes. I bite the inside of my cheek to tamper down the wishful thinking that he is feeling the same attraction I have for him.
“That the pizza is here?” I help him, pretending that I’m not phased by his scrutiny.
He shakes his head for a second time. “Uh, yeah, the pizza is here.”
“Ok.” I smile, putting the towel down.
“I, uh, I’ll get the plates and meet you in the kitchen.” He looks down, then back at me before heading back to the kitchen.