Page List


Font:  

Scratch that, she’s even sexier like this. Of course she is. Her dress is glued on her body like second skin, the light gray almost see-through. I can see clearly her black bra, the curve of her tits, and fuck, why was I feeling sorry for myself?

This is worth the pain.

“Hang on,” she says, and without the noise of the rain, her voice’s soft and exotic. Musical. I can’t place her accent. “We’ll be there in two minutes.”

I unglue my tongue from the roof of my mouth and nod. The heater is warming up the air fast, at least, and I’m not shivering my bones loose anymore. I work on keeping my eyes straight ahead as she drives off, on the wipers sluicing water off the windbreaker, and on the street, the pools of light cast by the lampposts and shop fronts.

She parks outside a white building, three stories high with big lit-up windows and trees on the sidewalk. Red maples, their leaves already turning ruddy with the onset of fall. We had them outside out house, too, when I was little.

Feels like centuries ago.

She turns to me, flashes me a brief smile. “Home sweet home. I hope, uh…” She turns the engine off and sticks her tongue out to the side. Makes me want to laugh. Or maybe I’m just nervous. “Hope this is okay. I may have pressured you a little to come over. I just didn’t feel okay leaving you there, you know? But if you change your mind, I can still drive you back to your place, or call a cab for you.”

I blink at her. She’s… sweet. Don’t know why it catches me by surprise.

“It’s fine,” I mutter. “Honest.”

The thought of going back to my cold and empty apartment right now is damn depressing.

The smile flashes again—small, white teeth, the canines slightly crooked.

Charming. Cute.

Hot.

I lick my lips. God, I want to kiss her. This is fucked-up. So instead, I throw my door open and start the slow process of getting my sorry ass out of her car.

“Let me help you.” She comes around and grabs my arm, steadying me as I try to find my footing. Her grip is shockingly strong for such a small girl.

She puts the walking stick in my hand and closes the door as I take a few tentative steps, hissing and leaning on the stick when my knee shoots fire up my leg.

Ow, dammit.

When she puts a slender arm around my back, I su

ck in a sharp breath—not from pain this time. Her touch lights up a different kind of fire in my blood. I was semi-hard during the car ride, and now I’ve gone to diamond-hard in two seconds flat.

Oblivious, she helps me to the entrance of the building and punches a code into the keypad by the door. It clicks and we enter into the dark but dry lobby. Fuck, it’s cold in here. Her arm is a naked flame wrapped around me.

The elevator carriage is there, and we ride up, pressed together, side by side. I shouldn’t like this so much. My dick shouldn’t like it so much, either. I shouldn’t get used to it.

She’s being nice. But she has a boyfriend. And that’s not the only problem.

Dammit.

We step out onto the landing, and she unlocks the door, pushes it open and flicks on the lights. I hobble inside, taking in her living room—warm and cozy, with a red sofa and armchair, huge black and white posters of houses and horses and… a dancer?

She’s moving around the room, lighting another lamp in a corner, opening the window a crack. Her movements are graceful, her legs slender, and her ass is a perfect heart, full enough to fill my hands.

My mouth is dry. I desperately lick my lips and maneuver my uncooperative body sideways to hide the hard-on tenting the front of my soaked jeans. In the very last second, I remember that maybe I shouldn’t drop my wet ass on her furniture and hesitate, half-bent over, leaning on my stick.

“Should I…?” I glance around, trying to find a safer place to land, but fuck, my leg is killing me and won’t hold me up for much longer. “Manon?”

She turns around, surprise flitting over her face. “What? Oh, I’m sorry! Only my mother and Cassie call me that.” She bites her lips. “Give me a sec, I’ll be right back.”

On the plus side, the longer I stand, the more pain I’m in, and the more my erection flags. By the time she’s back with a plastic sheet, I don’t have to hide my crotch anymore. All my focus is on staying on my feet.

She sits down and spreads it beside her. Pats it in invitation.


Tags: Jo Raven Damage Control Romance