Chapter 15
chapter fifteen
Dayton
She’s standing there in her tiny yellow pajama shorts, honey hair in tangles around her shoulders.
Her nipples are poking through the white tank top that reveals a sliver of her tanned stomach, and I’m suddenly questioning my sanity with the rash decision to take a last-minute flight from Miami to here.
The door is still open, letting the rain in, so I reach over to shut it while I dry my chest. I drop the towel to the floor to mop up the puddle.
“Um, I don’t know who told you that, but—”
I finish drying the floor before turning back to face her. “You’ve always been a shitty liar, Cupcake.”
She purses her pink lips, and fuck if it doesn’t make me want to spank her ass and kiss that attitude right off of her face.
“Who is he?”
Honestly, I wouldn’t be this angry about the fact that she actually commissioned a mural for the backyard wall if he hadn’t hugged her every single time he came over.
The first time, I didn’t realize who he was through the cameras, but the second time, when he started drawing on the cinder block, it hit me.
Finding out that she no doubt spent an outrageous amount on a mural, hid it from me, and hired some idiot who couldn’t keep his hands to himself—it makes me want to do things to him that would require me to hire a criminal defense lawyer. And I fucking hate lawyers.
She crosses her arms, unintentionally making her boobs squeeze together and look even more suckable.
“He’s a highly reputable artist. Cheri knows him too.”
“I don’t give a fuck if he painted the Sistine Chapel with Michelangelo.”
She steps toward me, lifting her chin. “That’s why I didn’t ask you. The contract is signed, Dayton.” She says my name like it’s a curse. “He stays.”
She looks up at me, pretty lips in a pout, reminding me of the way they looked in one of her lingerie pictures.
Don’t think about the pictures right now.
“How much was it?” I grit out, trying to redirect the blood that’s flowing south.
“I’m going to pay for it, I’ll have you know. You didn’t have to fly all the way here in the middle of the night. I’m taking on photography clients again to—”
“How much was it?” I repeat.
She sighs, looking away before finally relenting. “Twenty grand. But I swear I’m going to cover it. I’ll work seven days a week if I have to. I want it. It’s a selling point.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Are you gonna pay for the cabinet upgrade too? For the hand-painted tiles? The specialty lattice on the porches?”
She’s silent. I look down at her, the perky nipples under her top begging me to taste them. I’m beyond livid with her, but all I can think about is punishing her by making her get on her knees and tie her hair up in a ponytail for me to hold on to while she opens her mouth for me.
Instead, I take a step back, feeling the erection growing in my dress pants. I turn away, bending down to unzip my duffel bag in an attempt to hide the hard length. After a few seconds of pretending to look for something, I start to pinch my arm to focus my attention on another body part.
Think about something else.
“I’m putting all my photography income toward the house to cover the upgrades.”
As if I would just let her work herself to death to pay for the fucking tiles.
Her voice, the existence of her puckered nipples right behind me, and the proximity of us being trapped in this studio together on a stormy night are making it difficult for me to get rid of my boner. I stand up, holding a pair of my gym shorts in front of me.
“I’m taking a shower.” I walk into the bathroom without another word and shut the door behind me.
I don’t want to do it. The shower isn’t that big, but I need to release this tension if I’m going to sleep in here tonight with her so damn close to me, smelling like sunshine and sea salt and coconut.
I kick off my dress shoes and pull off my soaked suit pants.
I turn the water on, stepping under it before it even finishes heating up.
I grip the base of my dick, pumping my fist over it fast and hard.
The knowledge that Summer is out there, her ass hanging out of her shorts and the coconut smell in her hair, is all I need to think about.
I could be biting those nipples. I could have my face between her thighs, savoring the scent and taste of her pussy, like I’ve been dying to do for so long.
Never gonna happen. You’re stuck with the fantasy.
I close my eyes, holding back a moan as the water finally heats. My other hand reaches down to cup my balls, squeezing them lightly.
It takes all my strength not to invite her in, to see what she’d say. She let me squeeze her thigh at Cocktails and Chaos for hours without complaint.
Finding out she had broken up with her loser boyfriend brought out a ravenous side to me. I can’t even explain why I did it, except that I wanted to see what she would do.
And I just had to touch her.
The honey hair, in tangles around her shoulders, could be wrapped around my fist, pulled tight as she bounces on my dick.
A barely audible groan releases from my lips as the cum spews out of me onto the shower floor.
Milky white washes down with the water over the blue tiles. Aftershocks run over my heated skin.
I grab her soap and use it to lather up my body. The coconut smell of her body wash is familiar.
I finish rinsing off before climbing out of the shower to towel-dry off, using her towel. I pull on my gym shorts, praying I don’t get another erection tonight.
When I step out into the room, she’s sitting up in bed on her laptop.
She doesn’t look at me, but her face betrays her irritation.
The cute furrow between her brows almost makes me smile at her, but then I remember what I just did in her shower.
The constant ache I feel for her is muted, not even close to fully sated.
I take my wet clothes and hang them over the towel rack in the bathroom before walking to the empty side of her bed. I pull her fluffy comforter back and stretch out on the bed.
She attempts to drill holes in my skull with her eyes. “Excuse me? What the hell are you doing?”
I release a dramatic exhale. “I’m fifty percent owner of this studio.”
My head rolls to the side. She’s glaring at me. It takes all the willpower within me not to drop my eyes to look at her chest.
“But we agreed I could live here,” she grits out.
“I never said you could live here alone.”
She sucks in a breath, her eyes grazing over my body, taking up half of her king-size bed.
“So, I can’t live here with my boyfriend, but you can move in whenever you damn well please?”
“You don’t have a boyfriend. Plus, we never got to share a room before. You’re the one who wants to keep the house in memory of Dad and Clara. You don’t think they’d want us to try getting along, living here and spending your first birthday without them together?” My voice drips with sarcasm.
She’s fuming. She doesn’t respond for a few long moments.
“Don’t pretend you care about their wishes or spending my birthday with me. You’ll just ruin a perfectly good day if you’re here.”
I frown, bringing my arm up to rest my hand under my head. “So, you’d rather be alone for your last birthday in your twenties than with your last living family member?”
“We’re not family,” she grits out. “And I have an aunt. What about Noelle?” Her face pales as soon as she says it.
I lift a brow, trying to appear casually interested. “Noelle will be fine without me for a few months.”
She somehow knew about my fling in New York, which shouldn’t have been too difficult to find out about, but still … it’s interesting that she knows about her.
I haven’t slept with Noelle in over nine months, but she still tries to reach out occasionally. I have no idea how Summer knows who she is.
Hopefully, she hasn’t seen any pictures of her hair.
“So, you do have a girlfriend.”
I shake my head. “Not my girlfriend. How do you know about Noelle?” I tilt my head.
She bites into her bottom lip, clearly not intending to tell me how she knows about her. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”
The corner of my mouth lifts up. “Well, in that case, why don’t you scoot on over here, Cupcake?”
She huffs, shifting even closer to the edge of the bed, away from me. She shoves a pillow between us.
I chuckle, lying back against my pillow and closing my eyes. “Sweet dreams.”