Cage

Cage by Sarah Sparrows

Book: Cage by Sarah Sparrows Read Free Book Online
Authors: Sarah Sparrows
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minutes ago. Looks like you could use some
help.”

 
    “Sure, if you…don’t mind…” I responded, standing back.

 
    Sawyer slipped into place in front of the deep trunk. With the heat, he
had pulled off his unbuttoned over-shirt and the top beneath, revealing a
trimming, black tank top. For the first time, I was seeing the definition of
his strong, toned arms…and a slight gasp caught in my throat.

 
    The muscles rippled as he effortlessly extracted the suitcase from the
vehicle. I couldn’t peel my eyes off of his skin as I realized how built my stepbrother was. I knew he had
bulked up in the intervening time – I would have to be blind to have not
noticed – but this was way more
than I had thought. Without his leather jacket or sweaters, Sawyer couldn’t
hide his muscular build anymore.

 
    But it wasn’t all just mindless bulk. His musculature was streamlined,
allowing him to move easily and carefully. He had stopped short of becoming an
amateur bodybuilder, but it was still a distinct difference from the
underdeveloped teenager of my past.

 
    “Something the matter?” Sawyer smiled coyly.

 
    I realized that I had been staring at his build…and long enough for him
to have noticed.

 
    “No, no, nothing, I was just…”

 
    “Admiring, maybe?”

 
    “Oh, quit it.” I admonished him. “Let me just grab this…”

 
    I reached for the suitcase, but he lifted it out of the way. It didn’t
escape my notice that I’d struggled with the damn thing, but he was
effortlessly maneuvering it around with just his wrist.

 
    “No, I said I’d help you with this, remember? If you’re having this much
trouble with getting it out of the car, how do you expect to get it up to the
second floor and across the house?”

 
    He had me there.

 
    Pausing to grab another of my suitcases with his free hand, he followed
me as I carried my small one and led him back into the Beach House. We climbed
the staircase on the immediate left, and then continued onward into the left
wing. We passed down the corridor towards our bedrooms, between frames
featuring extraordinarily talented painters local to Pensacola.

 
    Mom had always been a fan of underappreciated artists. Even when it was
just the two of us, and although she could barely afford to do so, she proudly
displayed a few works from her friends in the dining room. After the marriage,
Mom loved to support their work as well as that of local artists, often paying
above what they would ask for even their larger prints. Chet had always seemed
not only encouraging of this, but also delighted by it – it seemed to be
one of the ways in which she enriched his life, the way that he treated it. I
never remembered much art in his house before Mom and I moved in. It just
seemed to be the kind of thing he never paid much attention to, at least not
until they met one another.

 
    This hallway brought back fond memories. I was present for a number of
Mom’s art purchases, and could distinctly recall most of these pieces in small,
impromptu galleries – either thrown together on the boardwalk or in
rented, single-day accommodations. Chet usually didn’t come along – he
told anyone who would listen that he didn’t have the “eye” for that kind of
thing – but he never criticized any of her choices in design.

 
    I mentally left myself a note to peruse all the art that sprawled across
the Beach House again…maybe after we were already settled in.

 
    Lugging my suitcase with me, I plopped it down on the floor and turned
to face Sawyer. “Alright, thanks. There shouldn’t be more than a few…”

 
    He paused in the doorway, staring strangely at my bed. I followed his
gaze and realized that I had carelessly left a suitcase open…the one filled
with my underwear. Countless bras and pairs of panties were sprawled around,
seemingly overflowing from the case.

 
    “Oh! You pervert! ” I shouted
at him, grabbing the suitcases from

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