blonde hair is wild, cast across the pillow. I pull the blankets back and pick her up. “You should have told me you were a virgin, Bailey.”
“I can walk,” she says.
“Let me take care of you.”
I set her down and flip on the shower. She looks so beautiful it almost breaks my heart. I haven’t seen a speck of makeup on her face all weekend, maybe because she didn’t bring any. She looks young and innocent but she’s not innocent. Not anymore. I feel like some sort of animal, like I just defiled some sort of sweet, angelic creature with my lust.
“If I’d known that was your first time, I wouldn’t have been tearing your clothes off. What kinds or memories are you going to have about this?
“I’ll remember my first time was with you,” she says.
“And that’s even worse.”
“Why is that?”
“I’m not a nice guy, Bailey. People don’t like me and I don’t care. I walk around my house in boxers, eat out of a can, sometimes have a beer with breakfast. I don’t particularly like having people around. When I’m done with work I’m done with humanity. I don’t even have a goldfish.”
She snorts, shoves me out of the way and steps into the shower. I follow her, shutting the door behind me.
As she closes her eyes and lets the water wash over her, I glance at her thighs. She bled. I did that to her. Broke her.
“Look Nick, we fooled around. I’ve always wanted to do that but never been with the right guy. It was sex. It was my first time. It was amazing. But that doesn’t mean we need to go pick out living room furniture.”
Jealousy twists inside me. I move closer and press against her, deliberately crowding her space. “You want to go furniture shopping with some other dick?”
She’s not intimidated by my attempt to bully her. Instead she loops her arms around my neck, lifts to her tiptoes and kisses me. Without any conscious thought, I wrap my arms around her and pull her close. Her tits press against my chest and my cock jumps to attention.
“No Nick. Just you,” she whispers. “If I go furniture shopping, it will be with you.”
“Good,” I tell her, sounding like a petulant five-year-old. One who just claimed not to like having people around. But it’s not true, because I love having her here. Fucking love it. The one human being in the world I want near me is the niece of the man I almost killed. I should tell her. Explain how it took four cops to pull me off David Voss and how I spent nine months in jail, most of it in isolation. But then I’d have to tell her what David did to Olivia and I can’t even imagine saying the words aloud, not to Bailey.
I take the soap and embark on yet another bad idea, washing Bailey. I work up a lather and wash her back, kneading her shoulders a little. She leans into my touch.
“You don’t need to go furniture shopping.” My voice is rough with renewed lust. “If you need something I’ll make it for you.”
“Oh?”
“I made most of the stuff in my house. The tables and chairs, I even made the bed so my feet wouldn’t stick off the end.”
She laughs softly. “I like your bed.”
“You’re the only one, besides me, who’s been in it.”
I turn her around so I can soap the rest of her. The way she feels makes me more than ready to haul her back to bed. No. I can’t do that. I need to sleep on the couch or something, stay away from her because her body is addictive. Soap streams down her lush breasts and, unable to stop myself, I kiss her. We stand under the stream of water and kiss, making out like teenagers, which I suppose she was a couple of weeks ago. When the water grows cold, we get out and dry off.
A short while later she comes to the kitchen wearing a pair of jeans and a shirt she swiped from my closet. The flannel shirt hangs off her and the cuffs have been rolled up a half-dozen times. She must have gone in my closet and looked through my shirts. I can’t say I mind. From now on, any time I wear that shirt,
“I can walk,” she says.
“Let me take care of you.”
I set her down and flip on the shower. She looks so beautiful it almost breaks my heart. I haven’t seen a speck of makeup on her face all weekend, maybe because she didn’t bring any. She looks young and innocent but she’s not innocent. Not anymore. I feel like some sort of animal, like I just defiled some sort of sweet, angelic creature with my lust.
“If I’d known that was your first time, I wouldn’t have been tearing your clothes off. What kinds or memories are you going to have about this?
“I’ll remember my first time was with you,” she says.
“And that’s even worse.”
“Why is that?”
“I’m not a nice guy, Bailey. People don’t like me and I don’t care. I walk around my house in boxers, eat out of a can, sometimes have a beer with breakfast. I don’t particularly like having people around. When I’m done with work I’m done with humanity. I don’t even have a goldfish.”
She snorts, shoves me out of the way and steps into the shower. I follow her, shutting the door behind me.
As she closes her eyes and lets the water wash over her, I glance at her thighs. She bled. I did that to her. Broke her.
“Look Nick, we fooled around. I’ve always wanted to do that but never been with the right guy. It was sex. It was my first time. It was amazing. But that doesn’t mean we need to go pick out living room furniture.”
Jealousy twists inside me. I move closer and press against her, deliberately crowding her space. “You want to go furniture shopping with some other dick?”
She’s not intimidated by my attempt to bully her. Instead she loops her arms around my neck, lifts to her tiptoes and kisses me. Without any conscious thought, I wrap my arms around her and pull her close. Her tits press against my chest and my cock jumps to attention.
“No Nick. Just you,” she whispers. “If I go furniture shopping, it will be with you.”
“Good,” I tell her, sounding like a petulant five-year-old. One who just claimed not to like having people around. But it’s not true, because I love having her here. Fucking love it. The one human being in the world I want near me is the niece of the man I almost killed. I should tell her. Explain how it took four cops to pull me off David Voss and how I spent nine months in jail, most of it in isolation. But then I’d have to tell her what David did to Olivia and I can’t even imagine saying the words aloud, not to Bailey.
I take the soap and embark on yet another bad idea, washing Bailey. I work up a lather and wash her back, kneading her shoulders a little. She leans into my touch.
“You don’t need to go furniture shopping.” My voice is rough with renewed lust. “If you need something I’ll make it for you.”
“Oh?”
“I made most of the stuff in my house. The tables and chairs, I even made the bed so my feet wouldn’t stick off the end.”
She laughs softly. “I like your bed.”
“You’re the only one, besides me, who’s been in it.”
I turn her around so I can soap the rest of her. The way she feels makes me more than ready to haul her back to bed. No. I can’t do that. I need to sleep on the couch or something, stay away from her because her body is addictive. Soap streams down her lush breasts and, unable to stop myself, I kiss her. We stand under the stream of water and kiss, making out like teenagers, which I suppose she was a couple of weeks ago. When the water grows cold, we get out and dry off.
A short while later she comes to the kitchen wearing a pair of jeans and a shirt she swiped from my closet. The flannel shirt hangs off her and the cuffs have been rolled up a half-dozen times. She must have gone in my closet and looked through my shirts. I can’t say I mind. From now on, any time I wear that shirt,
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