Page 15 of Thorns of Silence

Except she wasn’t in her room.

The glass door was cracked open, the scent of spring rain and something else thick in the air.

My gaze traveled over each corner of it. Her armoire left open, dresses of all colors and styles hanging. There were Post-it notes on random surfaces—the dresser, nightstand, even the mirror—with music notes drawn on them.

The door opened and I withdrew into the shadows just as she appeared, wearing red shorts and a white tank top. The door shut behind her quietly, and for a moment, she stood, unmoving, her eyes locked on where I stood outside her window.

My shoulders stiffened and I froze. She didn’t move for a heartbeat—maybe three—almost as if she could sense me.

But then she walked over to her bed. She slid her shorts down her smooth, tanned thighs. Her tank top followed, and my breath caught in my throat as I observed her glorious body in nothing but her panties and bra. Curves. Smooth, pale skin.

A memory flickered. Too distant. Too hazy.Catch me.

I shook my head at the images flashing through my mind. Instead, I focused on the woman in front of me. The woman I wanted.

As if she heard my thoughts, her liquid blue eyes flickered to where I stood. Flipping her covers open, she lay down, her graceful back meeting the mattress.

People didn’t often shock me. But this girl, she managed to do so at every turn.

Only a week had passed since our little run-in at the club, but since then, she was part of my every thought and every breath. Like an old memory that ingrained itself into my brain cells and refused to let go.

My eyes landed back on her slim figure, her dark hair sprawled over the pillow like a dark crown around her head. Her full lips were parted and her eyes were closed, a flush staining her cheeks.

I watched those graceful fingers drift to her breast, brushing against them as she let one hand follow the path over her flat stomach while her other pinched her nipple, causing her back to arch and her lips to part.

A small whimper reached me through the gap and my heart tripped over its own beat. It was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. It was like a symphony that possessed your soul.

Her other hand slipped between her legs and I leaned closer, my hands gripping the sides of the window to force myself to remain in the shadows as I watched her masturbate.Jesus Christ.She was gorgeous.

She hid a fierceness underneath her cool exterior.

Most importantly, she wasminewhether she fucking liked it or not. From now on, she’d do this for me and only me. Even if it killed me.

Her head thrown back and eyes closed, she reminded me of a virginal sacrifice for a sinner. Her inner thighs glistened as her legs parted and her hand dipped inside her panties, my mind conjuring all kinds of X-rated images of her pink pussy. The sheer curtain blew with the light breeze, blocking my view of her way too often.

But I couldn’t grip the material out of fear that she’d notice me. So I let it flow back and forth, carrying the scent of her arousal through the air and making my mouth water.

Her back arched and a lock of hair spilled down her face. She panted, perspiration gathering above her lips that were begging to be taken in a bruising kiss.

God, look at her. How could I be expected to resist her?

Her body shuddered. Her hips rolled desperately, her tits bouncing as she spread her legs even wider. She begged to be fucked with my mouth, and damn it, I wanted to taste her. I ran my tongue across the back of my teeth, dying for a taste of her. I’d bet my life and everything I owned that she tasted like the sweetest oblivion.

The look of ecstasy on her face resembled the one she wore when she played music. Like she fucking thrived on it, riding on pleasure. She threw her head back and moaned as her pleasure climbed higher and higher until she orgasmed. The soft sound of her whimpers was so fucking sweet it sent shudders through me.

I dropped my eyes down her body. Taut tummy, toned thighs, tits in that sheer bra with nipples poking straight out against it that were made to be sucked. God, she looked like a goddess with the sweetest body I had ever seen. My fingers buzzed with the energy and something else that I couldn’t quite place. Almost as if my hands remembered touching her—except I’d never touched her.

Then, to my shock, I realized my dick was hard. When was the last time my fucking dick responded like this? And to none other than Phoenix Romero. Fuck, she had to be the one.

My cock was so hard it throbbed against my jeans. I pictured myself stomping over there and sliding inside her. She’d be so fucking wet. I needed to know who she was thinking about when she touched herself.

Do it again, I chanted in my head, ready for a repeat. I wanted to see her unravel again. It was the most beautiful sight.

I raised my eyes to her face again, watching her eyebrows etched in pleasure and pain. I had never been big on kissing, but at this moment, I’d give my soul to kiss her just so I could taste the evidence of her exertion.

She relaxed on her side, pulling the covers up to her chin and tucking her knees up to her chest, closing her eyes as her breathing calmed. My temples throbbing, I tried to pull those earlier, foggier images to the forefront of my mind, but just like that, they all disappeared.

Phoenix’s eyes opened and I receded further back into the dark. She stared off at nothing while I remained there, the fire in my body consuming me like an erupting volcano.