Promise

Chapter 8: Twelve

Christian

I could see her freckles.

When I saw her with Reyna parked on her hip, something was a little different. It took me a moment to realize her freckles were on full display. She didn't try to cover them up with makeup the way she normally did.

It was only when I would sneak up onto her roof late at night that I got to see her freckles. But today, her face was fresh and clean and innocent, bringing back memories.

But then there was her skirt. Long bronze legs under a tan plaid skirt that made my dick jerk in my jeans. Fucking hell. All of a sudden, all I wanted was for her to sit on my face with nothing else but that skirt on.

God help me.

Reyna took a solid hour-long nap, during which I let Robyn think I didn't notice when she took a picture of us sleeping through my shades and I let her think I didn't hear some old lady tell her that we were a beautiful family.

To my surprise, she didn't reject the idea either, just a simple thank you. Why? Why didn't she clarify that there was nothing going on between us and that we were just brother and sister-in-law babysitting our niece?

And why did her not denying it make my heart beat quicken just a tad? Didn't she loathe me after all these years?

Now, Reyna sat by her aunt, doodling on a blank sheet of paper that Robyn tore out of her sketchbook with the 64 pack of crayons Robyn also brought, while I responded to emails on my phone.

The depths of women's purses would never ceased to amaze me. I was confident that if I dug around deep enough, I'd find the Articles of Confederation and a full continental breakfast buffet in there too.

Robyn was busy sketching something on her pad, so I took advantage of the moment to do my favorite fucking thing in the world–look at perfection personified.

She laid down on her stomach, kicking her legs up in the air—like she did when we were kids. Her brown hair shone in the sunlight, tied up in some fancy twist at the back of her head, except for the pieces that framed her face–the ones that she constantly blew away right before they landed right back where they were—like she did when we were kids. Her dark eyebrows were pulled into a frown, focusing on the work in front of her. She scrunched her tiny nose from time to time, when she was irritated at something and then coupled that action with blowing her hair out of her face again. Her tongue curled on her top lip in deep concentration.

And then there were those fucking freckles. There were 12 of them, by the way, scattered all around her nose and cheeks, as if they were placed there perfectly like the stars in the sky, just waiting to be explored.

Robyn was so beautiful—literally so fucking beautiful—that when I could see her freckles, they reminded me that she was human because otherwise I'd believe she was a goddess–too pure, too good, too perfect.

Did she have freckles everywhere? Or were they only on her nose? What about her thighs? Did they trail up leading to–

"Wanna see?" Reyna's voice cut through my unabashed staring.

I cleared my throat and quickly looked down at the blond haired green eyed sweet little innocent child who did not need to know her uncle was thinking about pussy right now.

"Absolutely," I said, propping myself up on my elbow, laying parallel to Robyn with Reyna in between us. We were fairly close to one another, but Robyn was way too focused on her sketchpad to realize what was going on. I inhaled the scent of cinnamon and berries, trying to memorize that feeling of home all over again.