Page 39 of Into These Eyes

Gavin

K eeping my eyes closed, I stretch in the double bed, loving the fact I can do that without my feet hitting a hot tin wall. I haven’t slept this well since I was a teenager. I’m just not sure if it’s due to the comfort of a great mattress, or because I’m needed.

Eager to start the day, I throw back the covers, sit on the edge of the bed for a moment, and I curl my toes into the thick carpet.

As I glance around the room, I take taking in all the space, including a desk where I can sketch in private.

Standing, I roll my shoulders and stretch my arms overhead, pleasantly aware that my hands don’t come anywhere near the ceiling. Total luxury.

As I go over everything Jamie said to ease my battered pride last night, I wish the circumstances where different.

If I was here because … well, if I was her partner, I’d still do everything she needed me to, but I’d also have a real job.

That’s what would make me feel like I have any goddamn worth.

I release a long sigh. I can’t entirely kid myself. It’s pretty fucking awesome not having to endure another minute sweltering in that oppressive oven, though that comes in at a distant second.

It’s the knowledge that I’ll see her every day that has me buzzing with hope. Hope that I shouldn’t entertain.

I’m simply here to make her feel safe in her own home.

And cook for her. And do whatever she wants.

I just need to get over myself and believe her when she tells me I’m more than , that my presence has given her back her home.

That’s something. Not enough from where I’m standing, but it’s all I have.

Grabbing my duffle bag, I unpack my clothes, and as I place them in the chest-of-drawers, I’m hit with a wave of relief.

Relief that I stood my ground when Benny tried to convince me to pack the gun.

I don’t believe for a second that he’s eager for Reid to try to hurt Jamie, but he left me with no doubt that he thinks there’s nothing wrong with taking advantage of the situation.

It took one of our most heated arguments to convince him that secretly bringing a gun into Jamie’s home was not only a violation of her trust, but would land me back in prison and her in a shitload of trouble.

My Corrections officer can conduct a search of the home I reside in at any time.

While I don’t know the consequences of finding an illegal firearm in a lawyer’s house, I imagine it wouldn’t be good.

And for me, it’s a serious parole violation.

Benny eventually relented, but he sure as shit wasn’t happy about it.

After transferring my sketchpad to the desk drawer, I pull on a t-shirt and pair of track pants, grab my shaving kit, and open the door.

A little uncomfortable, I pause on the threshold and listen, not sure where she is, or if I’ll be invading her privacy or routine while she gets ready for work.

When only silence greets me, I pad across the hallway and close the bathroom door. After brushing my teeth and tidying up my beard with the clippers, I clean up the mess, then head down the hallway, eager for a coffee.

The moment I step into the kitchen, I freeze.

She stands at the coffee machine, her back to me, wearing a white figure-hugging camisole and matching boy-leg boxer briefs.

Which completely throws me. When the wind at the beach had whipped up her dress, she’d worn lace panties that were on their way to disappearing right up her crack.

Deciding to help her instead of standing back and enjoying the show that day, was quite a battle.

Though I’ve pictured that incredible arse in those lace panties a million times since, what she’s wearing now is just as sexy.

They might come down to the tops of her thighs, but fuck me, they cup her arse like a second skin, showing off every muscle flex as she flits about the kitchen counter, blissfully ignorant that she has an audience.

I should announce my presence, but hold off, unable to stop observing her while she’s unaware, while she’s moving freely without an ounce of self-consciousness.

I mean, it’s not really my fault. She invited me to live here with her, so she’s aware we’ll run into each other.

And she has every right to wear whatever she wants in her own home.

If she likes getting around dressed in next to nothing, who am I to complain? She can’t expect me not to look.

Unfortunately, I’m not a total creep, so I lean against the breakfast bar and clear my throat.

She startles, whirling around to face me.

And holy fuck, her breasts sway beneath that tight camisole.

Damn. No bra. It’s impossible to drag my gaze away, impossible to miss her nipples tighten beneath the thin fabric.

I wonder if they’re reacting because I just scared the shit out of her, or because I’m staring right at them.

When she crosses her arms and cups her breasts, my mind goes straight to how they’d feel in my hands.

It’s one hell of an effort to keep from grinning like a fool.

While my mouth manages not to betray me, the sight of her tight little body and the way she’s touching herself like that, has my dick ratting me out.

“Sorry,” I mumble, finally raising my eyes to hers. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

She lets out a huff and gives me a sheepish grin. “Not your fault. I didn’t think you’d be …” Her eyes flick to my crotch, “up yet.”

Clearly the thin track pants I’m wearing aren’t doing anything to hide my growing erection. Shit. Trying to cover myself now seems a little pointless and a little too much like it might matter. Thank fuck the boxer-briefs I have on underneath prevent the embarrassment of a full-on tent situation.

When her eyes meet mine again, her makeup-free face flushes a lovely pink. Yet, she doesn’t move, doesn’t run away, doesn’t make an offhand comment to diffuse the tension between us. She doesn’t even avert her gaze.

Benny’s words come flying at me. Dickhead, she wants you.

The thought that the old man might very well be right, blows my mind. If only it were true, that’d make me feel like a king instead of the worthless man standing before her.

Turning around, she fiddles with a few switches on the coffee machine before facing me again. “It’s ready for you.”

“Thanks,” I mumble.

Then she walks toward me, making no attempt to cover herself.

I keep my eyes on her face, but it’s impossible not to catch every bounce and sway of those full breasts.

My heartbeat pounds in my ears as she stops right in front of me.

It’s only when her eyes shift to the side, that I realise I’m unintentionally blocking her exit. Turning sideways, I let her slip past.

As she walks down the hallway toward her bedroom, I watch those perfect little arse cheeks tense and relax. Then remember, “Oh, I ah … couldn’t find any instant coffee last time, and I’m not sure how to use that complex machine.”

“I’ll be back in a sec,” she calls out as she disappears into her room.

Resting my elbows on the breakfast bar, I shove a hand in my hair and will my disobedient dick to deflate. Christ. How the fuck am I going to survive the torture of seeing her every day, fully clothed or not?

Except … she certainly didn’t seem offended by my reaction to her.

No. I don’t know that. I know nothing. The last time I had anything to do with a girl, I was a stupid teenager. I wouldn’t have a clue if I’m reading her right.

If I make a wrong move, she’ll kick my arse out.

I can’t risk it. Not if I want to keep her safe.

Besides, how can I trust Benny’s reasoning? What the hell does he know?

And there’s the cold hard fact that my dreams never come true.

Okay, she turned up on my doorstep. She believes I’m innocent. She seems to have fun with me. She asked me to move in with her, for fuck’s sake.

All of them dreams. All of them now a reality.

None of which means the ultimate dream will eventuate.

If I screw up or overstep boundaries, not only will she drop my bid to have my conviction quashed, I’ll lose her .

Hearing her footsteps padding down the hallway, I make a beeline to the coffee machine.

As she sidles up beside me, I discover she’s put on a light summer robe.

Only she’s failed to tie the sash that keeps it closed.

And although those amazing breasts are now covered by another layer of material, what I failed to check out last time, entices my gaze lower. To that sleek V between her thighs.

“Beans are in here.” She takes a step back and opens the cupboard at her knees. “I filled it up this morning, so you won’t need to worry for a few days, but this is where they go.” She flips a lid on top of the machine to show me.

“I’m happy to have instant. You don’t—”

She gasps, bringing a hand to her chest as if I just insulted her. “Don’t you ever, ever bring instant coffee into this house. I take this liquid gold seriously. Got it?”

I chuckle. Apparently, she’s not amused.

“Right,” I quickly say, and focus on the machine as she shows me where to put my mug and which button to use depending on what I want. I choose a long coffee and start the griding of beans and flow of dark liquid.

“Sugar?” she asks.

“Yeah, just one.”

She reaches into the cupboard at her knees again and produces a clear container filled with raw sugar.

“Oh, spoon,” she says. Her warm hand grips my waist as she reaches around to my other side, opens a drawer by my hip, and plucks out a spoon.

I stand stock-still, trying to remember how to draw breath into my lungs.

Touch.

She’s touched my hands and arms a number of times. Hell, she’s cried against my chest more than once, too. But does any of that mean anything, or are they simply things friends do?

Yeah, because I’ve held Benny’s hand and hugged the guy … never.

Then there’s the time she slid her hands under my shirt so she could touch my skin.

And I’d ruined that by getting a fucking hard-on.

I don’t know if that’d happened because her touch felt incredible, or because it’s been so damn long since anyone has touched me that way.

Which she was kind enough to say she understood.

Maybe that’s why she wasn’t fazed by my reaction earlier. But, if she believes it’s an expected response because I’ve been deprived for so long, why take the risk of me seeing her barely dressed?

“Gavin?”

I wrench my gaze from the coffee that’s now waiting for me, and stare at the spoon she’s offering.

“Everything alright? You were miles away.” Those mesmerising eyes stare up at me, perfectly portraying curiosity. I know I’ll be adding that new expression to my collection of sketches when she leaves.

“I’m right here,” I tell her with a smile. “So, that’s it?”

“That’s it. Give it a try.”

I stir in a teaspoon of sugar, bring the mug to my lips and sip. The rich flavours sliding over my tongue have every tastebud standing up and cheering.

“Damn it,” I grumble, shaking my head.

“Do not dare tell me you like instant over that.”

“I don’t have a death wish.” I take another sip to make sure I’m actually awake. “You know you’ve ruined me for life. There’s no going back after this.”

“Ha!” She beams at me with satisfaction. “Okay, so I should get in the shower and head into work. Text me your Correction officer’s number. I’ll get hold of him and explain everything.”

I nod, taking another sip as my eyes follow her until she disappears into the hallway.

Now all I have to do is get the image of her standing naked under a cascade of skin-caressing water out of my head.

Yeah, living here’s going to be a goddamn fucking breeze.