DAWNING POINT (AgeTabooRomance)

Chapter 21

Author's Note: This one is for all the Manning lovers and haters ;) Please comment, vote, tell me what you think. Your voice is important to me, and your love and support is incredible. Enjoy!!!

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I stared back at myself in the hazy mirror, eyes on my eyes as I pulled his sleeping shorts up my legs, rolling them at the waist for a better fit, and then his charcoal shirt over my bare chest. My shoulder hissed with the movement as I carefully looped my sore arm through the opening and then smoothed the fabric down my front, standing from foot to foot in the attempt to relieve the stress on my feet and ankle.

I looked... weird, I thought. I had never worn a man's clothes before. Only Kallum's on the occasions growing up that I refused to stop home for a set because I was avoiding Mum or because I hadn't wanted to leave Kall's side unless forced to. We shared everything, anyway, so wearing his clothes never seemed a stretch.

But these clothes felt different in their large fit and shoulder seams hanging halfway to my elbows. They were Manning's clothes, and the difference wasn't only in the feel of the expensive material or it's fragrant memory of his skin, but because I looked like his...

I shook my head.

Washing was the real challenge of the past half hour, though. Eventually I'd undressed, my party dress and underthings a rumpled pile of sweat and dirt on the ground as I'd limped into the shower, enclosing myself behind the frosted glass. Lathering my hair with one hand, I'd scratched the shampoo into my scalp until I was satisfied with the dull cry of my skin–and that of my muscles–conditioning the ends before soaping my body with Manning's musty bodywash that reminded me of forest and earth and him, coating myself in his inviting scent.

Sitting along the tiles, I'd breathed through the stream that danced under the lights, scrubbing my soles clean of the blood, dirt and glass, relieved when the worst of the punishment was over. And as I ran my hands over and between my most intimate of parts, I'd tingled with the subtle contact as Manning's face–deep and heated–flashed across my mind, his eyes only on me as I rubbed and moved for him, pulling him toward me. My favourite audience. My passion and my safety.

I thought about relieving myself under the spray, chasing the climax my body and mind so desperately craved after one of the most awful nights of my life. But I didn't, having swiftly pulled my hand away as I sat propped against the tiled wall, listening to the thick droplets slap ceramic as it rinsed away my anticipation.

Even after I'd dried off, the wetness between my legs lingered. I was nervous to step outside like this, cautious of how the fabric strained and dipped over my slopes and curves, despite how loose they were on me, worried they might give my away my wayward thoughts. Would he shun me? Tell me to leave? Or worse, would he be embarrassed of my reaction to him, my body's reaction I was trying so hard to conceal?

Pushing my concerns away, I leant down, rummaging through the basin cabinets to find a spare toothbrush to use. Thankfully I found a new one still in the packet, squeezed out some toothpaste and awkwardly scrubbed my teeth with my non-dominant hand to remove the residue of bile. Feeling minty fresh, I downed a few gulps of water from the spout, then placed the toothbrush in the black holder next to his. Finding his hairbrush in the top draw, I quickly ran it through my hair to wheedle out the knots, hoping he wouldn't mind, clearing the strays from the bristles when I was done. And after hanging my towel on a spare rack next to his, I moved for the door, taking in a lungful of air as I pushed through into the room.

But it was empty.

Where was he?

I made to leave the room, then stopped when I spotted his walk-in wardrobe along the same wall as the bathroom door. An idea in mind, I peeked inside, flinching with each step along the luxurious carpet.