Kyler
Closing the bedroom door behind me, I tipped my head back against it and stared at the exposed beams in the ceiling. Mom was into the whole rustic look. I thought it made the house look unfinished.
I focused on the deep oak beams, desperately trying to get the image of an almost naked Syd out of my mind. Wasn’t working. The beams morphed into hips and breasts.
Jesus. H. Christ.
Holy Mother of God, that was not what I’d expected when I’d opened that door. I also hadn’t expected Syd to be so… curvy under her clothes. She was a tiny thing, barely reaching my chest, and I’d assumed she was all straight lines and little else since the last time I’d seen her so damn close-to-naked was in junior high school. Since then, I hadn’t even seen her in a bathing suit.
Boy, was my assumption so far off it was ridiculous.
The girl had hips on her, sweetly flaring out from a narrow waist. For someone so short, her legs looked a mile long when there was nothing covering them. And those breasts?
I scrubbed my palm across my jaw and closed my eyes.
They were small, but the size fit her perfectly, and I bet they were perky as hell under that chaste white bra, and the tips would be a sweet dusky pink—whoa. What in the hell? I needed to stop thinking about her breasts. Totally off-limits.
But because I was a dude and once that image took hold, I pictured them in my hands and her back arching into my touch—
“Shit,” I growled. Lust stirred with a vengeance—that heated, almost-crazed kind of lust that never amounted to anything good.
And the way she’d been looking at me? No. No way. I had to be imagining that shit, because this was Syd, for chrissakes. She was my Syd, but never in that way. And there was no way she could be looking at me with those damn baby blue eyes of hers filled with want. Like she had wanted me to do something about the fact she’d been standing there with barely anything on.
Like she had wanted me to see her.
Aw, hell, I had seen her.
And there was a good chance I was losing my damn mind, because Syd had never looked at me like that. She just simply didn’t think of me that way, or—as far as I knew—any guy that way. Not since that punk-ass Nate had screwed her over. Ever since then, she just didn’t date. And I was okay with that, because I hadn’t met one guy who was good enough for her, and especially not me, not after what she’d said in the car on the way up here.
I pushed off the door and crossed the bedroom. Yanking my hoodie over my head, I tossed that and the shirt underneath onto the bed.
I headed into the shower, not because I really needed one, but because I just had to do something before I really did do something stupid.
And there was a lot of stupid in me—a whole lot.
I was still rocking the hard-on of my life, which I told myself had nothing to do with Syd, when I stepped into the hot spray of water. Probably had more to do with the fact that I hadn’t gotten laid last night. Yeah, that sounded good. There was only one way to fix this without a cold shower. Resting my head against the slick tile, I reached down and closed my eyes.
It was fast. It was hard. And I thought about the wrong person the whole time.