He sank down on his couch and adjusted his hardened cock inside his jeans. Hell, just texting with this woman got him turned on. He needed to get laid. Someone other than Serena apparently. He’d burned that bridge.
He continued texting. I thought we were being direct. You were the one to point out that you can hear me fucking.
Actually I can’t hear you. Only the women.
Wow. You really are listening.
It’s hard not to . . .
I make sounds. You just got to be closer to hear them. I say all kinds of things. Would you like to hear me? Yeah. He just went there. And he kept going. Why stop now? After what he’d already done tonight this was the least outrageous thing. He added: You like dirty talk Faith?
That’s none of your business.
His thumb again stroked the side of his phone. He was going to take that as a no. She had never dirty-talked before. Somehow that didn’t surprise him. The things to come out of his mouth would probably horrify her. His fingers hovered over the keys, tempted to type more, to keep flirting, to keep doing whatever it was he was doing with her.
No. Shaking his head, he set his phone down on the counter and slid it firmly away. It might start out fun and good but it would turn messy. With a good woman like her that was inevitable. He had a flash of himself standing naked in his backyard, one hand on himself as he gazed up at her window. Messier than it already was. She lived next door to him. It would be hard to avoid her when things went south—and things inevitably would. Because nothing fun or good ever lasted.
ELEVEN
It was Saturday night and North was going to get laid. He was done talking about it. Finished thinking about it. Since he’d been paroled a week hadn’t passed without some action. It was time to make it happen.
He decided he would pay a visit to Joe’s Cabaret—even if it meant he might have to run into Serena again. The place was easy if he was looking for a quick fix. He could also check in on Piper again while he was there. Two birds, one stone.
He’d worked later than usual at the garage finishing up a frame for a custom chopper his boss needed yesterday. He parked his truck in the driveway beside his bike. Faith’s car was already there . . . probably where it would sit all night. She didn’t have much of a social life as far as he could tell.
He’d just reached his front door when a gleaming black Audi pulled into Faith’s driveway. He hesitated, watching as a guy got out from behind the wheel. A loafers, chinos and polo shirt kind of guy. He wore a blazer over the polo shirt. Even at dusk, it was hot as hell to be wearing a blazer when you didn’t have to. He held a bouquet of flowers in his hand. Yellow roses. If that didn’t scream first date he wasn’t sure what did. Not that North brought flowers to any doors these days. He might not date, but he’d bought wrist corsages before—his junior and senior year. One might have even been yellow.
Fancy Pants spotted him and nodded a greeting in his direction, smiling politely even as his gaze skimmed and assessed North in his work clothes. Clothes that consisted of well-worn jeans and a grease-stained T-shirt with the garage’s logo on his chest. It was a cursory inspection, but one that seemed to say beneath me. Or maybe North was projecting because he felt that way? Because you are. He was good for fucking a woman and getting her off . . . but not dating. Not marrying. Not being the kind of man a girl took home to Mom and Dad.
North nodded back at him, jerking his chin up once in stiff acknowledgment. He shut the door but didn’t move away from it. He didn’t walk into his house and do his normal things like a normal human being. No, he turned around and peered through the living room blinds, straining to see as much as he could of the man walking up to Faith’s front door.
The guy moved out of sight, but that didn’t prompt North to move away. No, he waited. He heard the knock at her door. He heard the door opening. He heard the low rumble of voices. A man’s deeper voice followed by a softer female voice. His body tensed, leaning toward that sound—Faith’s voice. It was her.
And still he waited. Listening. He heard the door shut. Keys jangled in the lock.
Fancy Pants came into view, walking back down the driveway (minus the flowers) with Faith following him. North gazed at the back of her head. At the sleek fall of brown hair that fell a little past her shoulders. Still no view of her face. Damn it. How hard could it be to see what she looked like? The irony wasn’t lost on him that she had seen him. All of him.