Page 143 of A Foster Fling
Robyn
It’s not the first time I’ve dreamt of being with Troy, but this is the most vivid and explicit dream I’ve ever had. It felt so real that I’ve woken up soaked and my pussy pulsing with need. Letting out a tired laugh, I shake my head… nothing good would come from acting on this ridiculous and clearly one-sided crush.
Finally, after a few moments more, I manage to regain some form of composure. Getting out of bed, I realize I’m still fully dressed, and I quickly change. I quickly go to the bathroom and grab a washcloth, turn on the faucet, then run it under the stream of cold water. Washing away the sweat that’s formed on my skin, along with the wetness between my thighs, I toss it in the hamper.
I move over to the bathroom door and unlock it. As I walk out of it and back down the dark hallway, I trip on the rug and land with a crash on the floor.
“Raiden!” Troy shouts, barreling out into the hall from his bedroom and switching on the light.
“Robyn, are you okay?” he asks, sounding confused as he stares down at where I’m sprawled on the floor in a heap.
Before I can move to stand up, he’s in front of me, grabbing my hands and hauling me to my feet. I overbalance again, and my body collides with his. Troy wraps his arms around me to steady me, turning to prevent me falling down the stairs.
The narrow landing doesn’t provide much space for maneuvering, and I end up pinned between him and the wall, with no space between us. Heat pools in my belly, flooding south, and the dull ache that was there when I woke up flares up again at his proximity. I half-heartedly shove at him, attempting to shift him so I can go back to my room.
“Are, you, okay?” he repeats slowly.
Seemingly determined not to let me get away without answering him, he stopped me with a firm hand on my shoulder.
“I’m fine, I just tripped over the rug,” I reply with a shrug.
“Did you hit your head?” he probes, inspecting me closely like he did after I had that fight.
“No, I just hit my hip and knee as I fell.”
“You need to be more careful,” he scolds gently, finally letting me move away.
That’s when I notice his bare chest and the fact he’s wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. I avert my gaze and my cheeks heat when I notice the semi which is slightly tenting the front of them. Troy takes a step towards me, his expression one of concern.
“I’m fine,” I repeat, smiling in an attempt to reassure him.
The silence that follows my words stretches on as Troy inspects me closely before nodding.
“As long as you’re sure. I don’t want to wake up tomorrow morning and come in to find you unresponsive, because you hit your head and didn’t tell me,” he says with a raised eyebrow.
“I promise. I didn’t hit my head.”
He looks torn, somewhere in between believing me and overprotective mode, where he’s not sure if he does.
“If I find out otherwise, there will be consequences, Robyn,” he says sternly, and my body hums at the firmness of his voice and his own promise.
Troy shakes his head and steps aside to let me pass.
“Goodnight,” I tell him softly.
As I move around him, my breasts brush against him and my nipples tighten at the zing of friction across the tips. I cross my arms over my chest, trying to rub away the ache, before dropping my arms to my sides. That’s when I notice the hint of skin poking out of Troy’s boxers. Curiosity blooms in me, and I can’t help but want to touch it, to see if the head is as smooth as it looks. Troy’s eyebrows pinch together, and he follows my line of sight, then adjusts himself slightly.
My eyes track his movement, and when his meet mine I feel my cheeks heat. I rub at my chest again, and he sighs when he catches himself staring at where my nipples are now poking out against my nightshirt.
“Go to bed, Robyn,” he orders me, but his tone lacks conviction.
Instead, his voice carries an edge of longing in it, one I’ve heard before over the years, only this time it doesn’t fill me with dread.
“Now,” he iterates, and I nod before doing as he asked.
Spinning on my heel, I walk slowly toward my room, taking care to avoid tripping on the rug again. As I cross the threshold, I turn to close the door and see Troy standing there, still watching me. After shutting the door, I lean against the large, wooden structure. Tilting my head back and closing my eyes, I inhale deeply before I release my breath slowly. I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle living here, while tension continues to build between us. Until I turn eighteen, I’m stuck, but when I do, I can finally leave for college and places unknown.
Chapter Eight