CHAPTER 44
Finn
“Cold showers are total bullshit,” I mutter to myself.
After a forty-five-minute cold shower, I can see that it’s had no effect at all. I’m still half-hard. I’m still burning up. I still want to walk down the hall, open Emma’s door, and take her until she cums three times.
With my hand, with my mouth, with my cock.
Fucking bullshit cold showers.
Turning off the light, I slip into my bed, alone. I stare up at my dark ceiling and then flop onto my side and stare at my dark wall. Nope. This cowboy Navy SEAL is not going to sleep any time soon.
It’s too late to clean out the barn or go for a run, and I’m definitely not going to waste any more cold water on trying to solve my problem.
I need a distraction. I’m not much for television, and work is totally out of the question.
Because come on, I’m buzzing so hard for Emma that I wouldn’t be able to keep working on our new cybersecurity algorithm.
I punch my pillow in frustration—crippling physical and sexual frustration. And that’s when it hits me.
I’ll just do what any self-respecting tech nerd would do in a time like this.
Game.
I slip on a pair of old jeans and tiptoe out of my room and down the hall to the attic stairs.
The attic is really a bonus room, but only I come up here because Jasmine doesn’t play video games.
But I do. I’ve decked out the attic with the best in gamer equipment.
A sensor in the floor turns on a blue light that casts the walls and ceiling in a cool glow.
“Start ’er up,” I say, and my homemade tower starts with a low hum.
My brothers aren’t opposed to gaming, but none of them do it like me. Not even Declan, who comes over a couple times a week for me to whip his ass in Call of Duty.
Plopping down in one of the two low-to-the-floor gaming chairs, I get into it, hoping beyond hope that this will do what the cold shower couldn’t. That I’ll be distracted. That I’ll stop thinking of Emma.
How much I wanted her tonight. How beautiful and sweet she was. How good her hand felt in mine.
And that strange moment in the middle of all the lights and noise of the fair, when she stiffened and went on alert. That was spooky. I didn’t like it, and I sure as hell didn’t like that she didn’t trust me enough to tell me what was really going on.
I wish she would open up to me, though I know it will take a while for her to trust me again. I remind myself of what the plan is here: there’s no plan.
No pushing. No making anything happen. Just letting Emma come around.
I fucking hope it will be soon.
And… here I am. Hard again. Just spending a few seconds thinking of her—I may never get my dick under control as long as I live. Not with Emma around.
All it took was a few weeks with Emma in my house, and this is how it is for me.
So I focus on the monitor. I keep playing. And about an hour into the game, the back of my neck tingles with awareness, and I look over my shoulder.
Emma stands in the doorway at the top of the stairs.
I rub my eyes, sure that I must be seeing things.
She’s wearing a baggy men’s white T-shirt and red bikini panties, the ones she must have been wearing under that simple-but-sexy summer dress tonight.
There they are—like a flashing neon light—perfectly visible through the threadbare shirt.
I can see her full, perfect breasts, too.
I spin around. Stunned. It’s all I can do to keep my cool enough that I don’t jump her bones right this fucking second. I haven’t wanted a woman this much since Amy.
If I’m truthful, I’ve never wanted a woman this much, ever.
“I had no idea this was up here,” Emma says, glancing around, a look of surprise on her face. “I thought it was just an attic. I never got around to cleaning it. I’m so sorry.”
I try not to stare at the red outline of her panties through the shirt, but I can’t help myself. I’m a terrible person. An even worse boss.
“You’re fine,” I say aloud. And she is. She’s fine. But she thinks I’m talking about cleaning.
“I’ll clean tomorrow, unless you prefer I don’t clean this room, either. Like your office. Okay, sorry to interrupt. I just heard the noise and wondered what was up here. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” She stops. “What?”
I must be smiling like the idiot I am. This woman is adorable. Sexy as all fuck. And she’s asking about cleaning my gaming room.
“Do you game?” I ask.
She shakes her head and blushes. She shifts on her bare feet, and I wonder if she’s just realized what she’s wearing—or not wearing—in front of her boss.
“I’ve played Candy Crush, but you can’t get very far without paying.”
“Cool,” I say because I can’t think of what else to say, and that’s a problem, since I need to say something and keep my attention on her face.
Instead of the thin strip of red over her pussy.
Or the curve of her breasts.
The poke of her nipples.
“I guess I should get to bed.”
I nod absentmindedly. I agree. She should get to bed. My bed.
With me.
She needs to go to bed with me.
This torture has to stop.
But then I snap out of it. She wants to go to her bed. She wants to leave.
No.
I’m not ready for that. I don’t want to sexually harass the woman, and I know I’m getting dangerously close to making something happen here, but I don’t want her to go. I want her company. I miss her when she’s not around.
I’ve missed her fiercely these last few weeks.
“Why don’t you come play with me?”