HOW LONG IS FOREVER?
Erin M. Leaf
Copyright © 2019
Chapter One
“Charlie, I have a towel for you,” Eva called from the relative shelter of the front door overhang. She’d squished herself up against her house, hoping to keep from getting wet as she held the cotton fabric in front of her like a shield.
The man on the ladder spared a moment to fake scowl at her as the rain continued to pour down on him without mercy. A towel would do him no good at all until he finished his task and they both knew it, but she had to offer, right? It was only polite, after all. She held the towel out, half apologetically. Charlie shook his head at her, light brown eyes amused, then plunged his hands back into the clogged gutter.
Eva blushed and awkwardly tucked the towel under her arm. Embarrassment had her ducking her head. She wasn’t sure if it was his expression, the water plastering every piece of clothing to his sculpted, muscular body, or her stupid comment, but it didn’t really matter, did it?
“Sorry,” she mumbled, knowing he couldn’t hear her. She wished her dad were still alive to spare her this situation.
“I’ll be done with this side in a moment, Eva,” Charlie said, instead of yelling at her like another guy might. Then he coughed as dirty rainwater ran into his mouth. Eva cringed in sympathetic horror—those gutters were full of rotting leaves—but he shook his head like one of those dudes in a shampoo commercial, and all her sympathy went out the window as the spectacle of Charlie wet through to the bone registered against her retinas. The man was fine. He was more than fine, actually. He was the stuff girls’ dreams were made of: all wet, flowing hair, solid muscle, and competence rolled up into a tight, teasing package of male awesomeness.
Eva bit her cheek, hoping the pain would jolt her out of her fixation on him, but all it did was make her wince. Charlie was a hell of a man, and he was here, right now, helping her out of a nasty situation.
“Girlhood crush, still ongoing,” she muttered to herself, almost resentfully. If there was one thing she had always known in her life, it was that her father had loved her deeply and unconditionally, and she’d loved him back just as much. Growing up, that was all she’d needed. If he were still alive, he’d be the one up there on that ladder, and she wouldn’t be stuck here staring at his best friend, Charlie Greenwood: wet as hell and just as hot.
Because the second thing that she’d always known in her life was that her dad’s friend Charlie was probably the nicest man in the world. Certainly nicer than her stupid Uncle Albert, her mother’s brother, who had made himself a nosy, leering pest ever since her mother had died a year and a few months after her dad. Fuck cancer. And fuck sepsis. The infection had got her dad, and the cancer had taken her mother a year ago after he’d died. And so, after three horrible years of illness and hospitals and grief and railing against the unfairness of it all, Eva was alone, at the ripe old age of twenty-one, in the little house she’d inherited from her parents. And the gutters were clogged all to hell after the torrential rain this autumn. To top it all off, she hated heights, and that meant she needed help.
Enter Charlie, stage left, she thought, looking at his butt. His wet jeans clung in all the right places. She bet it made for a great handhold during sex, not that she’d know. She hadn’t had time or inclination or opportunity for anything even remotely resembling a relationship, let alone a hookup in the past few years. Grief had a way of stopping life in its tracks. She hadn’t even really begun life yet, anyway, before everything happened. She’d never been on a date. Never kissed anyone. She glanced down at herself, frowning at her generously-sized figure. And it’s not like anyone’s ever lined up to play footsie with me, anyway.
“Girlhood crush, still ongoing,” she muttered to herself, almost resentfully. If there was one thing she had always known in her life, it was that her father had loved her deeply and unconditionally, and she’d loved him back just as much. Growing up, that was all she’d needed. If he were still alive, he’d be the one up there on that ladder, and she wouldn’t be stuck here staring at his best friend, Charlie Greenwood: wet as hell and just as hot.
Because the second thing that she’d always known in her life was that her dad’s friend Charlie was probably the nicest man in the world. Certainly nicer than her stupid Uncle Albert, her mother’s brother, who had made himself a nosy, leering pest ever since her mother had died a year and a few months after her dad. Fuck cancer. And fuck sepsis. The infection had got her dad, and the cancer had taken her mother a year ago after he’d died. And so, after three horrible years of illness and hospitals and grief and railing against the unfairness of it all, Eva was alone, at the ripe old age of twenty-one, in the little house she’d inherited from her parents. And the gutters were clogged all to hell after the torrential rain this autumn. To top it all off, she hated heights, and that meant she needed help.
Enter Charlie, stage left, she thought, looking at his butt. His wet jeans clung in all the right places. She bet it made for a great handhold during sex, not that she’d know. She hadn’t had time or inclination or opportunity for anything even remotely resembling a relationship, let alone a hookup in the past few years. Grief had a way of stopping life in its tracks. She hadn’t even really begun life yet, anyway, before everything happened. She’d never been on a date. Never kissed anyone. She glanced down at herself, frowning at her generously-sized figure. And it’s not like anyone’s ever lined up to play footsie with me, anyway.
“Almost done,” Charlie called out as he balanced on the ladder over top of the front walkway. Water cascaded down over his ridiculously ripped body while he dragged out huge handfuls of rotting leaves from the top of the downspout. Charlie was hands down the hottest man she’d ever met in her life, and she remembered well her utter dismay at age fourteen when she’d first realized that she’d have a crush on him forever. That knowledge was enough to squeeze her insides into a tight, uncomfortable knot whenever he was around, which was more often than she’d ever expected him to be now that her dad was gone.
You shouldn’t be staring at his ass, she told herself, but she couldn’t seem to help it. He’s probably twenty years older than you, you idiot, the voice of reason in her head also said, but it didn’t matter. Her gaze was firmly stuck on Charlie as he stretched out his arm again—insane muscles bunching under his sopping wet, faded green t-shirt. He reached into the clogged gutter to haul out a stinking, evil wad of decaying leaves and God only knew what else and flung the mess onto the ground. Of course, it was still raining. It was always freaking raining these days. The roof had started leaking into the living room above the bay window because the gutters were blocked. And because Eva’s mom had been just as afraid of heights as Eva, no one had gone up there in several years to pull out the leaves. Charlie was who she’d had to call for help, and there he was right now. Soaking wet, right in front of her.
In all his glory.
Another thing Eva had always known was that she was abominably tall for a girl, and she definitely weighed too much, because the size sixteen jeans she used to wear didn’t go up over her hips right anymore. And she didn’t fit into normal sized bras. And most guys looked tiny to her as she stared down at them, so she had never managed a date, let alone a first kiss or any of the other normal things teenage girls did with boys. She’d been too large and too smart most of her childhood in comparison to the other girls at school, and then she’d been grieving, and so now here she stood, staring at Charlie because he was so damned perfect and she couldn’t help herself. Charlie was the only man she knew who towered over her.
Eva was twenty-one years old, and everything about her life sucked right now, except her dad’s best friend, who, at six feet five inches of gloriously muscled manhood, was taller than she was.
You shouldn’t be staring at his ass, she told herself, but she couldn’t seem to help it. He’s probably twenty years older than you, you idiot, the voice of reason in her head also said, but it didn’t matter. Her gaze was firmly stuck on Charlie as he stretched out his arm again—insane muscles bunching under his sopping wet, faded green t-shirt. He reached into the clogged gutter to haul out a stinking, evil wad of decaying leaves and God only knew what else and flung the mess onto the ground. Of course, it was still raining. It was always freaking raining these days. The roof had started leaking into the living room above the bay window because the gutters were blocked. And because Eva’s mom had been just as afraid of heights as Eva, no one had gone up there in several years to pull out the leaves. Charlie was who she’d had to call for help, and there he was right now. Soaking wet, right in front of her.
In all his glory.
Another thing Eva had always known was that she was abominably tall for a girl, and she definitely weighed too much, because the size sixteen jeans she used to wear didn’t go up over her hips right anymore. And she didn’t fit into normal sized bras. And most guys looked tiny to her as she stared down at them, so she had never managed a date, let alone a first kiss or any of the other normal things teenage girls did with boys. She’d been too large and too smart most of her childhood in comparison to the other girls at school, and then she’d been grieving, and so now here she stood, staring at Charlie because he was so damned perfect and she couldn’t help herself. Charlie was the only man she knew who towered over her.
Eva was twenty-one years old, and everything about her life sucked right now, except her dad’s best friend, who, at six feet five inches of gloriously muscled manhood, was taller than she was.
Charlie made her feel positively petite. And he always came when she needed him. And that was why, as she stood under the eaves of the front porch, watching him throw stinking, awful gunk from the gutters onto the ground in the pouring rain, that she suddenly decided that enough was enough.
She was going to ask him for help with something far more embarrassing, and much more bothersome than her stupid gutters.
****
Charlie reached his arm into the gutter for the umpteenth time
and cursed under his breath as he dragged out another handful of stinking leaves. He should’ve come here a month ago and cleaned out the damned things, but he’d forgotten, and now he was paying for it. He’d promised his buddy Phil he’d look after his wife Mary and their daughter Eva, and he’d done his best, but clearly, his best wasn’t good enough. Phil had died, and then Mary had died, and Eva was the only one of the family left. She was barely grown and living in their house all by herself.
And now Charlie was here, in the rain, wet through to the bone. From the corner of his eye, he could see Eva watching him, fingers twisted in the towel she’d grabbed. She looked embarrassed and uncertain. She looked adorable. He gritted his teeth and made himself reach in and pull out another handful of stinking mess.
She’s not for you, he thought to himself. No. Nope. Not gonna look. Eva had grown up into just the kind of woman he liked best but almost never met: tall, curvy, and gorgeous as hell. Even worse, she was ridiculously intelligent, and if there was one thing Charlie liked even better than boobs and ass, that was a woman with a brain. She’d managed to finish college early, despite her parents’ illnesses and deaths. It had been difficult, but somehow, she hadn’t broken under the misery of it all. He admired that. He admired her. If he were twenty years younger, he’d say he had a crush on her, but he was a grown man of thirty-five. Adult men did not crush on girls Eva’s age.
“Do not look at her,” he muttered under his breath, even as his eyes disobeyed him and shifted down and to the right. She stood under the front porch, hands crossed over her glorious boobs, curly hair in a wild mess around her shoulders. She’d slung the towel over her shoulder, and he could tell she’d used it to wipe rain off her face. He wanted to leap down off the ladder and toss her over his shoulder, towel be damned. He wanted to take her home and show her exactly
She was going to ask him for help with something far more embarrassing, and much more bothersome than her stupid gutters.
****
Charlie reached his arm into the gutter for the umpteenth time
and cursed under his breath as he dragged out another handful of stinking leaves. He should’ve come here a month ago and cleaned out the damned things, but he’d forgotten, and now he was paying for it. He’d promised his buddy Phil he’d look after his wife Mary and their daughter Eva, and he’d done his best, but clearly, his best wasn’t good enough. Phil had died, and then Mary had died, and Eva was the only one of the family left. She was barely grown and living in their house all by herself.
And now Charlie was here, in the rain, wet through to the bone. From the corner of his eye, he could see Eva watching him, fingers twisted in the towel she’d grabbed. She looked embarrassed and uncertain. She looked adorable. He gritted his teeth and made himself reach in and pull out another handful of stinking mess.
She’s not for you, he thought to himself. No. Nope. Not gonna look. Eva had grown up into just the kind of woman he liked best but almost never met: tall, curvy, and gorgeous as hell. Even worse, she was ridiculously intelligent, and if there was one thing Charlie liked even better than boobs and ass, that was a woman with a brain. She’d managed to finish college early, despite her parents’ illnesses and deaths. It had been difficult, but somehow, she hadn’t broken under the misery of it all. He admired that. He admired her. If he were twenty years younger, he’d say he had a crush on her, but he was a grown man of thirty-five. Adult men did not crush on girls Eva’s age.
“Do not look at her,” he muttered under his breath, even as his eyes disobeyed him and shifted down and to the right. She stood under the front porch, hands crossed over her glorious boobs, curly hair in a wild mess around her shoulders. She’d slung the towel over her shoulder, and he could tell she’d used it to wipe rain off her face. He wanted to leap down off the ladder and toss her over his shoulder, towel be damned. He wanted to take her home and show her exactly
what a man like him enjoyed doing to a woman like her, but she was his dead best friend’s daughter, and that meant hands off.
“Looks like you got it all,” she called out, eyeing the lack of water fountaining over the top of the gutter. “I’ve still got that towel for you.” She uncrossed her arms and dangled it from her fingers. Of course she’d fetched a red towel. It was like waving a flag at a bull.
Frustrated, Charlie grunted, hand still in the freezing cold water now flowing through the gutter. Maybe if I leave it in there a little longer it’ll keep my dick under control, he thought, but then conceded that it was a losing battle all around. Eva was just too damned enticing. He moved his hand around, mostly to buy himself some time to get his shit under control. The clog was gone. When he’d arrived, water had been gushing over the front of the bay window, and a leak had started inside on the ceiling. He’d be fixing that later after everything dried out. Now, though, the water was sluicing down into the downspout like it was supposed to, and he had no reason to stay up here on this ladder. Where he was safe. And fucking freezing.
“You coming down?” Eva called to him.
Charlie sighed to himself, then nodded, and then he carefully stepped down the slick ladder. He should’ve worn his work boots, but he’d dashed out the door so quickly he hadn’t bothered. His sneakers slipped on the bottom rung, but he caught himself and landed on the walk. He tipped the ladder back and drew the extension down. Eva’s gaze bored a hole into his back. He had no idea what she was looking at. She’d seen him messing with ladders a hundred times.
“You want the towel now?” she asked.
He smiled wryly and tilted his head up as the rain continued to pound down on him. “I don’t think your little towel is going to help much, Eva.” He hefted the ladder and headed for her tiny garage, ignoring the water streaming down his face. It was a bit of a tight maneuver to get the damned thing down the stone steps on the side of the house, but he managed it. When he’d finished hanging it on the garage wall, he muscled the old, squeaky door closed and headed back up to the front of the house. Eva waited for him at the door. She looked adorable clutching the bright towel, but God help him, he wished she was wearing something less attractive. He’d always had a thing for women in sundresses, and Eva had a habit of wearing them often. The light cotton, though not form-fitting, hugged her curves in
“Looks like you got it all,” she called out, eyeing the lack of water fountaining over the top of the gutter. “I’ve still got that towel for you.” She uncrossed her arms and dangled it from her fingers. Of course she’d fetched a red towel. It was like waving a flag at a bull.
Frustrated, Charlie grunted, hand still in the freezing cold water now flowing through the gutter. Maybe if I leave it in there a little longer it’ll keep my dick under control, he thought, but then conceded that it was a losing battle all around. Eva was just too damned enticing. He moved his hand around, mostly to buy himself some time to get his shit under control. The clog was gone. When he’d arrived, water had been gushing over the front of the bay window, and a leak had started inside on the ceiling. He’d be fixing that later after everything dried out. Now, though, the water was sluicing down into the downspout like it was supposed to, and he had no reason to stay up here on this ladder. Where he was safe. And fucking freezing.
“You coming down?” Eva called to him.
Charlie sighed to himself, then nodded, and then he carefully stepped down the slick ladder. He should’ve worn his work boots, but he’d dashed out the door so quickly he hadn’t bothered. His sneakers slipped on the bottom rung, but he caught himself and landed on the walk. He tipped the ladder back and drew the extension down. Eva’s gaze bored a hole into his back. He had no idea what she was looking at. She’d seen him messing with ladders a hundred times.
“You want the towel now?” she asked.
He smiled wryly and tilted his head up as the rain continued to pound down on him. “I don’t think your little towel is going to help much, Eva.” He hefted the ladder and headed for her tiny garage, ignoring the water streaming down his face. It was a bit of a tight maneuver to get the damned thing down the stone steps on the side of the house, but he managed it. When he’d finished hanging it on the garage wall, he muscled the old, squeaky door closed and headed back up to the front of the house. Eva waited for him at the door. She looked adorable clutching the bright towel, but God help him, he wished she was wearing something less attractive. He’d always had a thing for women in sundresses, and Eva had a habit of wearing them often. The light cotton, though not form-fitting, hugged her curves in
a way that left nothing to the imagination. He bit the inside of his cheek, hoping the pain would distract his libido.
“I can’t believe it’s still pouring down,” Eva said, making a face at the sky. Even though she was under the overhang, it was raining hard enough to dampen her hair.
“Your curls are looking a little wild,” he said, smiling. He couldn’t help himself. He reached out and lifted the strand sticking to her cheek. She’d always had unruly, curly hair. He wanted to sink his hands into it and— No. No, you do not, he reminded himself, abruptly dropping the lock of hair.
“My hair is always a mess. You know that.” Not seeming to notice his sudden irritation with himself, Eva sighed, impatiently pushing the mass of her hair over her shoulder. “It’s been coming down for the past hour. And all day yesterday, too.” She opened the door and held it for him. “Come on inside. The least I can do is feed you. I have a lasagna in the oven.”
Charlie had just been planning on leaving so he could get home and dry off, and stop imagining my friend’s little girl naked, he reminded himself, but lasagna was the magic word, and Eva knew it. He couldn’t resist pasta. “You didn’t have to make dinner,” he said to her, following her into the house helplessly. The delicious aroma of sauce and garlic hung in the air, and he sniffed appreciatively. “Oh, God, that smells fantastic.”
She flashed a grin at him.
Charlie smiled sheepishly. Eva’s lasagna was to die for, probably because she used the same recipe her dad Phil had. Charlie had always loved his friend’s cooking. His stomach growled embarrassingly, and she smirked. Charlie rolled his eyes as he paused just inside the front door, dripping onto the small square of ceramic tile. “I’m going to make a mess, honey.”
Eva handed him the towel, not even blinking at the endearment that’d slipped out unintentionally. Get a fucking grip, man, he told himself.
“Go on into the bathroom. Take a hot shower. I can throw your clothes in the dryer while you warm up,” she said.
Charlie looked at her for a moment, trying to wrap his brain around the idea of being naked in her bathroom, but then a shiver wracked his body. She was right, damn it. It might be summer, but the rain was cold, and now he was cold.
“I can’t believe it’s still pouring down,” Eva said, making a face at the sky. Even though she was under the overhang, it was raining hard enough to dampen her hair.
“Your curls are looking a little wild,” he said, smiling. He couldn’t help himself. He reached out and lifted the strand sticking to her cheek. She’d always had unruly, curly hair. He wanted to sink his hands into it and— No. No, you do not, he reminded himself, abruptly dropping the lock of hair.
“My hair is always a mess. You know that.” Not seeming to notice his sudden irritation with himself, Eva sighed, impatiently pushing the mass of her hair over her shoulder. “It’s been coming down for the past hour. And all day yesterday, too.” She opened the door and held it for him. “Come on inside. The least I can do is feed you. I have a lasagna in the oven.”
Charlie had just been planning on leaving so he could get home and dry off, and stop imagining my friend’s little girl naked, he reminded himself, but lasagna was the magic word, and Eva knew it. He couldn’t resist pasta. “You didn’t have to make dinner,” he said to her, following her into the house helplessly. The delicious aroma of sauce and garlic hung in the air, and he sniffed appreciatively. “Oh, God, that smells fantastic.”
She flashed a grin at him.
Charlie smiled sheepishly. Eva’s lasagna was to die for, probably because she used the same recipe her dad Phil had. Charlie had always loved his friend’s cooking. His stomach growled embarrassingly, and she smirked. Charlie rolled his eyes as he paused just inside the front door, dripping onto the small square of ceramic tile. “I’m going to make a mess, honey.”
Eva handed him the towel, not even blinking at the endearment that’d slipped out unintentionally. Get a fucking grip, man, he told himself.
“Go on into the bathroom. Take a hot shower. I can throw your clothes in the dryer while you warm up,” she said.
Charlie looked at her for a moment, trying to wrap his brain around the idea of being naked in her bathroom, but then a shiver wracked his body. She was right, damn it. It might be summer, but the rain was cold, and now he was cold.
“Go on,” she said, poking him until he moved away from the front door. She closed it behind them.
Charlie took the towel she held out and rubbed it over his face and hair. “Hang on.” He toed off his shoes, then stripped his wet socks off his feet. The least he could do was minimize the damage as he walked through the house. He’d take off his pants and shirt, too, if he were alone and not sporting a massive erection. He hoped to God she didn’t recognize the bulge pushing against his wet jeans. He knew she’d never had a boyfriend, never dated, so odds were she was still innocent about ... stuff. He winced internally. That thought did nothelp calm him down in the least.
“I’ll take those,” Eva said, holding out her hands.
Charlie stared at her. “You want my dirty socks?”
She glared at him and snapped her fingers. “I want all of your
wet clothes, Charlie.”Ha. If only. Charlie snorted and handed her the socks. She
didn’t seem to realize it, but she had the slightest hint of a blush high on her cheekbones. Embarrassed? he wondered. He smirked. She was the one who’d told him to strip.
“Go on to the bathroom. You know the way,” she said, looking down at his feet. A tiny frown marred her brow.
Charlie shook his head, grimacing at the water that streamed off his hair. “Sorry,” he said, looking at the droplets now decorating her tile entryway. He took off his shirt. That was safe, right? And the less clothing he wore to the bathroom, the less water he’d drip on the way there. When he looked up, he caught Eva staring fixedly at his chest. He held out his shirt. “Eva?”
“What?” A full-blown flush bloomed on her face. “Oh, yeah. Thanks.” She took the shirt from him.
She was ogling my chest, Charlie realized, surprised. He’d been noticing her for a while now, but he had no idea that Eva looked at him that way. In a sexual way. He looked at her face. She’d captured her lower lip between her teeth as if she were trying not to bite into a delicious candy bar. And that’s not a good thing, he told himself, but it didn’t help. His cock jerked despite the clammy, wet jeans he wore. The last thing he needed right now was for his erection to grow bigger. He had a difficult enough time controlling himself around her without trying to walk through her space with a giant hard- on that wouldn’t fucking quit.
Charlie took the towel she held out and rubbed it over his face and hair. “Hang on.” He toed off his shoes, then stripped his wet socks off his feet. The least he could do was minimize the damage as he walked through the house. He’d take off his pants and shirt, too, if he were alone and not sporting a massive erection. He hoped to God she didn’t recognize the bulge pushing against his wet jeans. He knew she’d never had a boyfriend, never dated, so odds were she was still innocent about ... stuff. He winced internally. That thought did nothelp calm him down in the least.
“I’ll take those,” Eva said, holding out her hands.
Charlie stared at her. “You want my dirty socks?”
She glared at him and snapped her fingers. “I want all of your
wet clothes, Charlie.”Ha. If only. Charlie snorted and handed her the socks. She
didn’t seem to realize it, but she had the slightest hint of a blush high on her cheekbones. Embarrassed? he wondered. He smirked. She was the one who’d told him to strip.
“Go on to the bathroom. You know the way,” she said, looking down at his feet. A tiny frown marred her brow.
Charlie shook his head, grimacing at the water that streamed off his hair. “Sorry,” he said, looking at the droplets now decorating her tile entryway. He took off his shirt. That was safe, right? And the less clothing he wore to the bathroom, the less water he’d drip on the way there. When he looked up, he caught Eva staring fixedly at his chest. He held out his shirt. “Eva?”
“What?” A full-blown flush bloomed on her face. “Oh, yeah. Thanks.” She took the shirt from him.
She was ogling my chest, Charlie realized, surprised. He’d been noticing her for a while now, but he had no idea that Eva looked at him that way. In a sexual way. He looked at her face. She’d captured her lower lip between her teeth as if she were trying not to bite into a delicious candy bar. And that’s not a good thing, he told himself, but it didn’t help. His cock jerked despite the clammy, wet jeans he wore. The last thing he needed right now was for his erection to grow bigger. He had a difficult enough time controlling himself around her without trying to walk through her space with a giant hard- on that wouldn’t fucking quit.
“Go on,” she told him. She looked like she wasn’t going to budge until he headed for the bathroom.
He sighed internally. “It won’t take me long,” he said aloud, striding through the comfortable living room and through the dining room. Like all the ranch houses built on this street, the floor plan consisted of a living room, a dining room, and a kitchen each leading to the other, and then a short hallway behind the kitchen that held three bedrooms and a bathroom. The house was small, but cozy. It was nothing like the airy, soaring modern cabin Charlie had built himself on ten acres of forest north of town. But he liked Eva’s house. He’d liked it when it had been his friend Phil’s house, and Eva had been just a child. Somehow, he liked it more, now. Eva had done something with it to make it her own, although he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what.
“Hand me your jeans after you take them off so I can put them in the dryer,” Eva said when he reached the bathroom.
Instead of answering, he closed the door most of the way and took off his pants, careful not to catch his dick in the zipper. He pursed his lips, wondering what she’d think when he didn’t hand her any boxer shorts, then shrugged. What did it matter? She was off limits. It didn’t matter what she thought. “Here you go,” he said, slipping his arm with the sopping jeans through the cracked door.
She took them, and Charlie heard her open the basement door. He smiled wryly as he looked down at his erection. He hadn’t wanted to come here and clean out gutters, but he’d made a promise to his friend. He hadn’t wanted a hard-on, but now he had one of those, too. He turned on the water and stepped into the shower, rolling his eyes at himself when the scent of Eva’s soap wafted up in the hot water, making his cock ache.
I’m not going to be able to cold shower this thing away, am I?
he mused, then took himself in hand. He could jack off in ten seconds flat, especially in this shower, with Eva’s stuff all around him. He groaned quietly as he recalled the blush on her face. She was twenty- one, but he’d bet his left ball she’d never touched an aroused man. Somehow, that thought just made him harder. He hissed as his fist squeezed the tip of his erection, and then his hips pumped once, twice, and it was all over. Jizz coated the pretty white tile of Eva’s shower, and Charlie hung his head in the warm spray, panting and just a bit embarrassed. Had he ever come so fast in his life? He didn’t think so.
He sighed internally. “It won’t take me long,” he said aloud, striding through the comfortable living room and through the dining room. Like all the ranch houses built on this street, the floor plan consisted of a living room, a dining room, and a kitchen each leading to the other, and then a short hallway behind the kitchen that held three bedrooms and a bathroom. The house was small, but cozy. It was nothing like the airy, soaring modern cabin Charlie had built himself on ten acres of forest north of town. But he liked Eva’s house. He’d liked it when it had been his friend Phil’s house, and Eva had been just a child. Somehow, he liked it more, now. Eva had done something with it to make it her own, although he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what.
“Hand me your jeans after you take them off so I can put them in the dryer,” Eva said when he reached the bathroom.
Instead of answering, he closed the door most of the way and took off his pants, careful not to catch his dick in the zipper. He pursed his lips, wondering what she’d think when he didn’t hand her any boxer shorts, then shrugged. What did it matter? She was off limits. It didn’t matter what she thought. “Here you go,” he said, slipping his arm with the sopping jeans through the cracked door.
She took them, and Charlie heard her open the basement door. He smiled wryly as he looked down at his erection. He hadn’t wanted to come here and clean out gutters, but he’d made a promise to his friend. He hadn’t wanted a hard-on, but now he had one of those, too. He turned on the water and stepped into the shower, rolling his eyes at himself when the scent of Eva’s soap wafted up in the hot water, making his cock ache.
I’m not going to be able to cold shower this thing away, am I?
he mused, then took himself in hand. He could jack off in ten seconds flat, especially in this shower, with Eva’s stuff all around him. He groaned quietly as he recalled the blush on her face. She was twenty- one, but he’d bet his left ball she’d never touched an aroused man. Somehow, that thought just made him harder. He hissed as his fist squeezed the tip of his erection, and then his hips pumped once, twice, and it was all over. Jizz coated the pretty white tile of Eva’s shower, and Charlie hung his head in the warm spray, panting and just a bit embarrassed. Had he ever come so fast in his life? He didn’t think so.
“Fuck,” he said a long minute later. His cock was still half- hard and sensitive, but at least now he could stuff it into clothing without injuring himself. At least, he hoped he could. Eva had a way of inspiring his body to new heights of stupidity.
“Hands off,” he muttered, thinking of Eva and her gorgeous body and her pretty blush. “Fuck it all to hell.”
“Hands off,” he muttered, thinking of Eva and her gorgeous body and her pretty blush. “Fuck it all to hell.”
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