daddy issues → brad simpson | ✓

12 - it matters

BRADLEY

I couldn't sleep last night, especially with Charlotte so close to me, in my clothes. It felt so strange having her so close to me but we hadn't done anything. Normally I wouldn't let a girl stay round my house, let alone without having sex.

I guess Charlotte wasn't a normal girl.

I let out a small sigh and look over to my clock. It was ten in the morning and she was still asleep, probably to wake up with a hangover with the amount of alcohol she consumed last night.

Everything was going so well after I'd spoken to her last night, I was so relieved I'd finally get to be intimate with her, even if it had only been two days.

However, I saw the sad and slightly stressed look on her face after she'd finished her phone call and thought it would be best to leave it last night, despite what I felt.

I remove my arm that was lying on her waist and rub my eyes, standing up. My thoughts flicked back to her, how she's lying in my bed in my clothes and how I want to rip them off and inhale her.

I was going to get a boner at this rate.

All I had to do was not think about sex, especially with Charlotte, and I would be turned on. I shake my head and clear my thoughts.

She stirs awake at that moment and turns to look at me before a small smile stretches on to her face, "morning."

"Hi," I reply, my voice sounding rough from not speaking in a while. "You got a headache?"

"Nah, I don't have a hangover," she says after a few moments before sitting up under my sheets, her head resting against the bed frame.

"I'll make us some breakfast?" I suggest and she nods eagerly, standing up and following me downstairs. I avoided looking at her, since the shirt she was wearing ended at her thighs and all she was wearing under that were her pants.

I pull out some pancake mix and start cooking some pancakes with ease. It was one of my go-to breakfasts, as well as cereal and toast.

She sits at the kitchen island, watching me with curious eyes as I stand in my boxers, cooking us both something to eat.

With a smirk, I turn to her, "would you mind grabbing the syrup from the cupboard?"

"Why don't you get it?" She raises an eyebrow and I look down at the pancakes.

"I don't want our food to burn."

She rolls her eyes and stands up, brushing past me to get the cupboards, "which one is it in?"

"The one to your right, top shelf," I keep my smirk hidden as she turns around to the shelves in the cupboard and scans it for the syrup. When she spots it, she reaches up to grab it and the shirt rides, showing her laced underwear and I can't help but stare at her.

Fuck.

"I can't reach it," she frowns and turns around I slowly look back up to her face, not bothered that she caught me staring.

"Let me get it, then," I chuckle as she throws me a glare. "But if the pancakes burn, its your fault."

We both knew full-well the pancakes wouldn't burn just because I got some syrup out of the cupboard right next to me.

With ease, I grab the bottle and put it on the side, next to two plates.

"Are you staying here tonight as well?" I ask, hoping she will. She bites her lip nervously. "You don't have to, if you don't want to."