Drawn to You: Volume 2

By: Vanessa Booke

A light trail of steam flows out from inside the spacious bathroom. To my surprise, Emily is still in the bathtub where I left her. Her aquamarine eyes flutter open as I carefully close the bathroom door behind me. She watches me with a look of curiosity as I pace back and forth a few feet away. Try as I may, I can’t look away from the way her naked curves peak up from beneath the water. She doesn’t move or say anything as I lean down on the tile beside the sunken tub. Our eyes connect, and for a brief moment, I forget my guilt and the consuming need to fix what I’ve broken.

Leaning forward, I trace the curve of her breast with my fingertips. I feel myself harden at the sight of her nipples perking up. I reach over her for a nearby sponge and watch with a small trace of amusement as her eyes widen. She watches me as I slowly reach down into the water and run the sponge from her ankle to the center between her legs. Emily flinches, but she doesn’t stop me as I put pressure against her. Her body arches against my palm, and it takes all of my restraint not to touch her any further. After running the sponge over the rest of her legs, I help her towel off.

She doesn’t ask me to, but I turn to look at the wall as she dresses in my black Nine Inch Nails T-shirt. The black tee was a gift from my co-worker Vivian, but I haven’t worn it once since she gave it to me. I turn at the feeling of Emily’s hand on the back of my shoulder. The sight of her wearing my shirt sends a strange sensation through my chest. She’s wearing my shirt. Somehow, it looks better on her.

If life were simpler, she would be mine.

And I would be hers.

* * * * *


I WAKE SEVERAL hours later to the sound of my alarm clock going off. It doesn’t take me long to realize I’m back in my bedroom, alone. My memory is foggy, and despite the familiar surroundings, my room looks different. I reach down to lift my nightie over my head, but I quickly stop as I notice the fabric fits strangely big on me. It takes me several minutes to realize I’m wearing one of Tristan’s shirts. Tristan. I shift in my bed, and a tender ache throbs from between my legs. The sensation increases as I sit up and lift my legs over the edge of the bed. I reach down, fingering the hem of the oversize shirt, and slowly pull it up. I blush at the realization that I’m not wearing any underwear. Tristan must’ve taken them off. Or perhaps I wasn’t wearing any in the first place.

The smell of Tristan’s cologne triggers a flood of memories. Memories of Tristan carrying me to the bathroom, when he turned as I undressed, and the gentle pressure of my loofa grazing the inside of my legs. My heart flutters at the memory of Tristan’s gaze as he helped me bathe. I couldn’t help but stare at him as he gently touched me. Neither of us said much, but it didn’t take away from the need I felt for him to take me again. Even now, my body throbs at the thought of it.

I step off my bed and walk toward the freestanding mirror across the room curious to see if I look any different from last night. My hair is pulled back in a messy bun, and there are light circles under my eyes, but besides that, there isn’t much different. I turn and lift my shirt again. As I stare at myself in the mirror, I spot a small bruise on my inner thigh. I reach down and run my finger over the bruise. Despite its dark color, it doesn’t seem to hurt.

I’ve always hated how I bruise so easily, but this time, I don’t mind. Butterflies fill my stomach at the thought of seeing Tristan again. How am I ever going to face him again without thinking about last night? Unable to contain my curiosity, I quickly pull on some jean shorts and head downstairs. The house is quiet, but I’m not surprised considering my parents are still out of town. Nicholas is probably still asleep, too.


I turn toward the sound of a familiar voice and spot my older brother, Alexander, standing in the corridor with a cup in his hand. He’s dressed in a fine blue suit with a matching baby blue tie. My cheeks warm as his eyes take in my frazzled appearance. Thank God he didn’t see me earlier.

“Hi, Alex. I’m surprised to see you here.”

“You are? I don’t technically live here, but I try to stop by when I can.”

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