Wishing Star

Chapter 9

The following day, Max lay in bed, dreading getting up to face Caelum. It was his turn to cook breakfast, and she was in no hurry to deal with his smug face. She barely slept last night, and it was all his fault.

Her lips still burned from the kiss they shared. She touched her finger to her lower lip and wondered if they were still swollen. When she went to take a shower last night, she stared at herself in the mirror, surprised at how debauched she looked. Her hair was wild, her pupils dilated, and her lips were several shades darker and swollen. To make matters worse, she could feel how wet she was just from that single kiss. His words from last night entered her mind.

When you touch yourself at night, I want it to be my face that flashes before your eyes when you come.

Fuck him for putting those thoughts in her head. When she finally laid down, the need to come was almost overwhelming. Despite attempting to wash the evidence of her arousal away in the shower, she was dripping. She had growled in frustration, and ignoring her own objections, her hand trailed down her stomach and entered her sleep shorts. She stopped just before she touched herself, and after a few moments of indecision, she jerked her hand away.

She wasn't going to let him win. Max knew if she went through with it, his face would be the one she saw when she came. Just like he wanted.

So now it was morning, and the need to come was just as strong. She pounded the bed in frustration and jerked the covers back, unwilling to think about it any longer.

She needed another shower.

When she entered the kitchen for breakfast, Caelum was at the stove putting chocolate chips in the pancake batter. He was freshly showered, and his hair was still slightly damp, a strand falling into his eyes. He was dressed in a black henley that stretched across his back and a pair of blue jeans. His signature work boots were on his feet, and she wrinkled her nose. She had no idea why both brothers insisted on wearing shoes in the house. The only time she ever saw either one of them without shoes on was when they watched TV.

She walked towards the island, and he turned around at her footsteps. A smile broke out across his face, and she could feel her face heating up. White knuckling the counter, she did her best to relax her tense shoulders.

"Good morning," she choked out.

"Good morning, Max," he responded, focusing on the pancakes. "Did you sleep well?"

The question seemed innocent, but there was a hint of something in his voice. Like he somehow knew she had tossed and turned all night, thinking about the kiss.

Or maybe she was just paranoid.

She was honestly acting like an idiot. It was just a kiss.

She stepped closer to him and watched him flip a perfectly browned pancake. "I did. How'd you sleep?"

He glanced at her lips, a secret smile on his face. "I slept perfectly. Best sleep I've had in a while."

She stared at him, looking for a hidden meaning. "That's...good?"

He nodded as he plated her some pancakes and handed them to her. "It was good. Really good."

She walked to the table as naturally as possible, but she knew she had the posture of a Christmas soldier nutcracker.

He sat across from her and handed her the syrup, already digging into his stack of pancakes. She looked around, taking note of Clark's absence.

"Where's Clark?" she asked, her eyes boring holes into her pancakes as she spoke.

"He went to pick up some lumber from the lumber yard," he explained, wiping his mouth. "If you want to get that fireplace built, we'll need to start on the frame."