Chapter 1

1

Holly

J enson ran his hands up my thighs, his dark-eyed gaze locked on mine. My breath hitched in my throat when his breath fanned over my dripping core. I was so wet. So ready and eager for him. I desperately needed his cock to fill me, but fuck, he'd been teasing me. Always teasing me and never giving me what I truly wanted, even if he always left me satisfied.

"So wet for me," he rasped. His voice sent shivers down my spine. He nipped at the tender skin of my inner thigh before unexpectedly swiping his tongue through my folds. I moaned, my fingers twisting in the sheets as my back arched just the slightest bit.

His tongue was fucking magical.

"So sweet," he murmured. His lips wrapped around my clit ? —

I jerked awake, my heart pounding in my chest. Mom was downstairs banging pots and pans, no doubt getting ready to make breakfast, which I had a feeling was what had yanked me out of my dream. I cursed and glared up at my ceiling. I knew my mom was excited to have me back home for the Christmas holidays, but couldn't a girl sleep in at least the first day home?

In this house, apparently not.

Muttering under my breath about being woken up from my very hot dream starring my even hotter neighbor, I got out of bed and pulled on a pair of sleep shorts. While it was damn near thirty degrees outside, my mom kept this house sweltering hot in the winter since she was so cold-natured. Leggings in this house was near impossible for me to wear unless I was planning to go outside, and even then, I was usually sweating by the time I made it downstairs to the front door.

I walked over to my window and pushed it open, hoping to let out some of the heat. Sweat was clinging to my skin already. It was a miracle I'd managed to actually sleep instead of tossing and turning all night.

After brushing my teeth, I shoved my feet into my bedroom slippers and headed downstairs. Mom beamed at me when I emerged from the living room and into the kitchen. "Good morning, honey. Coffee is ready. Want to help me make breakfast?"

I shrugged as I moved toward the coffee maker. Every weekend during high school when I was home and not at my best friend's house, I helped her make breakfast. It was sort of our thing, and honestly, I'd missed it. I loved spending time with her.

"Sure," I told her. I grabbed the coffee pot and poured some into the mug she had waiting for me. "What are we making this morning?"

"Scrambled eggs and bacon," she informed me. "I'm working on biscuits now. So, if you'll work on making those, I'll focus on these," she said, pointing at the bowl she currently had all the ingredients for the biscuits dumped in.

One thing to know about my mom, she didn't make a single thing out of a box. She made everything by hand—biscuits, bread, pizza. The only boxed thing we had was plain pasta, and she told me it was because she was just a little too lazy to make that herself, too.

My friends always loved coming over here because the food was damn good.

"You've got it." I took a sip of my coffee before setting it back on the counter and moving to grab the food I needed from the fridge.

I enjoyed living away from home, even if I was just in a dorm room, but I did miss these moments with my parents. I missed the family bonding time. And sure, my parents were both strict, but they were still my parents, and I loved them. I knew everything they did, they did it with my best interest in mind.

I might be a brat because they spoiled the hell out of me, but I normally always came around to their way of thinking. They meant the world to me, as did their approval.

"Dad at work?" I asked Mom as I scrambled the eggs into a bowl.

"Yep. He wanted to be home today, but something came up, and he has to be there. You know how it is with those unexpected meetings."

I did know. My dad worked for a huge security firm and was the executive assistant to the vice president of the company. And while many people thought that was such a crap job, my dad was paid exceptionally well with great benefits. Since my dad got the promotion ten years ago, my mom never had to work another day, and I got to go to a private school and even join sports and other extracurricular activities I hadn't been able to do before.

So, people could say whatever they wanted about his position. My dad was making mad bank and he was happy, and that was all I cared about.

After we made breakfast and ate, Mom changed into her yoga outfit, kissed me on the cheek, and left to go to her yoga class. She'd picked up a routine after I left for college, and though she'd said she didn't mind changing her schedule while I was at home, I hadn't let her. I was grown now; I could manage on my own at home for a few hours. I wasn't here to disrupt their new lives.

After taking a shower and watching the first two Scream movies, I finally forced myself off the couch and headed to my room, changing into a pair of leggings and an oversized long-sleeve shirt. Putting my Bluetooth earpieces in my ear, I turned on my favorite running playlist and shoved my feet into my sneakers.

Just because I was home for the holidays didn't mean I could slack off on my exercise. I didn't do any sports in college—not like I did in high school—but I still liked to be physically fit, especially since I was majoring in physical education. Running was one of my favorite things to do, especially when it was cold outside.

I glanced over toward Jenson's house when I stepped out onto the porch, unable to help myself. But he wasn't home—not that I thought he would be. He worked for a construction company, so no doubt, he was out somewhere working. Getting hot. Sweaty. Dirty…

Fuck .

Groaning, I spun on my heel and jogged in the opposite direction of his house, hoping I could run myself ragged enough that I wouldn't be tempted to get myself off to thoughts of him once I was back home.

When I got back home, a light drizzle was starting, and I was cold. My hair was clinging to my face, and when I pushed it back, I noticed Jenson getting out of his lifted black truck. The sides of it were caked in mud, and when he rounded the hood, I saw he didn't look to be in much better shape. His boots were caked in mud and some white powdery-looking stuff, and his jeans were covered in dirt and stains, his flannel shirt not in much better shape.

He just smiled at me before going up his porch steps. He took his boots off outside before walking into his house.

I blinked, my heart racing. He had smiled at me. Christ, why was my heart threatening to burst out of my chest just because of a smile ?

Clearly, my obsession with him had not gotten better while I'd been gone. Apparently, it had only festered, showing its face as soon as he smiled at me. I liked to think I had it under control, limited to naughty dreams, but apparently not.

I stomped inside the house and headed into my room to get a shower. Maybe I'd be able to get the thoughts of Jenson out of my head while I was bathing.

And if I got myself off to thoughts of him and that damned panty-melting smile… well, no one had to fucking know.

My body was hot all over, like it was trying to crawl out of my skin. I'd had dinner with my parents, and we all watched the third Scream movie together before heading to bed. It was well past midnight now, and I couldn't get to sleep despite actually being tired.

I couldn't stop thinking about Jenson dirty, just coming home from work. What would it be like to strip him out of his dirty clothes, to bathe him in the shower, and then drop to my knees and suck his cock to the back of my throat? Give him what he needed to relax after a long, hard day?

I sank my teeth into my lower lip, and my hand drifted between my legs, unable to help myself. Just the mere thought of his dick between my lips, his hands in my hair?—

I shuddered, gasping as my fingers circled my clit.

Would he yank me off the floor by my hair and pin me against the wall before lifting me and seating me on his girth? Would he stretch me so wide, it would burn?

I whimpered, moaning his name as I came mere moments later, my body trembling on my sheets. I sucked in a large breath of air and stared up at my ceiling, lit only by the very tiny bit of the street lights shining into my room through the slightly open window.

I stood up to go wash my hands, and that was when I noticed Jenson sitting on his windowsill, his legs dangling over the side of his house. My breath caught in my throat, my eyes widening. When he noticed me staring at him in horror, he simply smirked and crooked his finger at me in a ‘come here' motion.

My mouth quickly drying up, I slowly made my way to the window, unsure of what the hell was happening. Had he heard me? How long had he been sitting there? Did he watch me get myself off to thoughts of him?

Oh, God, what if he heard me moaning his name?

"You put on quite the show, baby girl," he said once I reached my window, his voice just loud enough to reach my ears. I flushed, my ears even heating with embarrassment. His smirk widened just a bit, turning from something playful to downright primal. His eyes seemed to darken in the low light. "But the next time you moan my name, it'll be with my cock between your pretty thighs."

I choked on nothing but air. With that, he simply swung his legs back inside his window and shut it, leaving me reeling.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.