Page 13 of Unthinkable

This is why I stay away for so long. Each time I’m in her proximity, I’m scared of how much she consumes me.

I knock once on the door, then push it open, unable to wait for a response.

What greets me is her ass on display.

Her toned, perfect ass.

She’s lying on the bed with her swimsuit on, but one side of the suit has somehow wedged between her ass cheeks, and my focus remains locked there while the distinctive sound of her tapping away on her phone gives me the perfect excuse to regain focus.

Does she not realize I’m here?

My cock stirs. Holy shit, not now, fucker. I swallow back the lump in my throat, but a strangled groan releases from me, and when she glances over her shoulder, our eyes lock.

Stepping forward, I attempt to pass the weird sound off as a chuckle. “Your swimsuit is up your ass, Little Nightmare.” I point toward her ass, and she wiggles it. Fucking wiggles it.

“Can you pull it out?” she asks.

My eyes widen.

She wants me to pull it out. That’s inappropriate, right?

She’s an adult now. Something inside me argues back.

Her blue eyes remain fixed on mine. I clear my throat, and without giving it another thought, I gently tug the seam of her swimsuit out of her ass. My finger grazes her smooth skin, and I repress the groan edging its way out of my mouth and allow my finger to linger there a moment longer than necessary. Goosebumps scatter over her toned ass, creating a beautiful trail up her torso, which I long to explore further. Without meaning to, I stroke her skin as if it’s the most natural thing to do in the world.

Rooted to the spot, I remain transfixed on her ass, almost like I’m seeing it for the first time. Seeing her for the first time. Only, this time, she’s older, yet still forbidden.

She is forbidden, right?

Her phone rings, breaking the spell she cast on me, and I drop my hand, releasing her swimsuit.

She darts her eyes away as she answers her phone, and I will my cock to stop throbbing.

“Yes. I’m leaving now,” she snaps, and I glance at my watch to distract myself from the way she smoothly slides off the bed.

She bends and shoves her towel into her backpack, and my gaze is fixed on her ass as she pushes her feet into her jean shorts.

Think of something else, Jensen. Come on, anything.

“I was checking to make sure you’re okay?”

She tilts her head to the side. “Amanda?” She waves her hand through the air while buttoning up her shorts. “I’m used to her being mean to me.”

My spine bolts straight. Mean to her?

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always been aware of a few issues between them, but hearing Immie refer to her as mean is a stark awakening to how things have declined between them.

“I’ll speak to her.”

She snorts. “You said that the last time.” Heaving the rucksack onto her shoulder, she rolls her eyes. “And the time before that.”

Has this animosity between them really been going on for so long?

“It’s getting old, Jensen. Either sort her out, or I’m moving out.” Moving out? What the hell is she talking about? “I-I can’t keep hurting like this.”

She pushes past me, but I remain frozen on the spot. She opens the bedroom door and walks through it, but I’m left standing here replaying her words. “Either sort her out, or I’m moving out.” Where the hell would she go? “I can’t keep hurting like this.” A dull ache slams into my chest at the thought of her hurting, the thought of her leaving.

Is this her plan? To leave me now that I’m home? To go to college and never return.