“Just because we’ve gone to school together since kindergarten.”
“We took Home Ec together freshman year,” he reminded her. “You almost burned down the classroom when you tried to cook a quesadilla.”
“Oh my God.” She giggled. “I forgot about that. Well, I’ve learned a few things since then.”
He scanned the luscious swell of her backside. In high school, she had been a tease. No guy got in her pants, but she’d enjoyed fooling around and tying them up in knots. Quite different from the girl she was now who worked four nights a week at Joe’s Cabaret.
“I know you have,” he admitted. They had all learned a few things since high school. In his case, nothing good.
She stared at him for a long moment and he was pretty certain she was thinking about how much they had both changed. She worked as an exotic dancer. He was a hardened felon—a far cry from the clean-cut kid he used to be. Tatted, scarred up, hair too long, his body a honed weapon, he bore little resemblance to the guy who’d sat across from her in Home Ec. Not only did he know how to take a beating, he knew how to give one.
He knew how to kill.
He slammed a heavy metal door shut on those thoughts. He’d just gotten laid. He didn’t want to lose his after-sex buzz by traipsing down memory lane.
“I’m gonna go work out back,” he said, tugging on his shoes, already done with this conversation and craving his space. Solitude. It was a downside to having sex. Sometimes they wanted to chat afterward.
Indifferent to his announcement, Serena continued, “Your new neighbor baked the scones.”
“Huh,” he replied noncommittally. He’d noticed the car in the driveway. He knew the place had been sold. The For Sale sign had come down a week ago. The duplex next door had been vacant almost three months after the old man who lived there moved in with his son’s family. Various Realtors had traipsed in and out of the house with prospective buyers in that time. He’d stopped paying attention.
The last thing he needed was a nosy neighbor bringing him baked goods.
Serena stood, indifferent to her nudity. “She seems like a nice lady.” She held his stare.
He shrugged.
She rolled her eyes. “She is your neighbor. You might want to introduce yourself.”
“What for?”
“It’s called civilized behavior.”
He laughed once. A harsh bark. “Does that sound like me? Civilized?”
She stepped forward and patted her fingers against his chest. “No, darling. That’s why I come to you. Nice men . . . well, they don’t fuck like you do.” She sighed. “Pity.”
He reached for her hips and hauled her against him. She was talking too much. Words he didn’t want or need to hear. If she was going to stay, she was going to have to shut up.
She continued, “Sometimes, whether you like it or not, you have to engage with other people. You have to speak to other people.”
“I talk when I need to.”
She smiled crookedly. “Sure you do.” She sighed and shook her head with an air of defeat. Which was just as well. She didn’t want to fix him. She liked him just the way he was. Always up for a good time between the sheets. “You should meet her.”
Nice. He didn’t do nice. He didn’t have nice in his life. It wasn’t that he didn’t want it. He just wouldn’t know what to do with it if he had it. For the majority of his life, he had been swimming in shit.
He reached for the shirt he’d tossed on the recliner in the corner of his room and pulled it over his head. “Let yourself out.”
“I always do.” Rolling her eyes, she sighed. “I guess this is my cue to go.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t say you had to go.”
“Didn’t you?” She slipped on her underwear and hooked on her bra. “You know someday I’m gonna get offended at your wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am attitude.” She grabbed her T-shirt. “Fortunately for you, I just want you for your body.” Reaching between them, she fondled his dick. “And for what you can do with this.” Grinning, she stepped back and finished getting dressed.
“Really?” he smirked. “Someday?”
She sniffed and rubbed under her eyes, where her mascara had smeared. “Not today apparently.”
“Night, Serena.” He turned to leave the bedroom.
Her voice stopped him. “You should come by the club. My friend Marcy was asking about you.”
“Marcy?” he asked blankly.
“Yeah. The other redhead. The fake one.” She tossed her mane of red hair proudly. “She said she’d like to be on your list.”
North winced. He didn’t like it when Serena referenced his “list” like he actually kept a running catalog of women on hand to access when he needed a quick fuck.
Don’t you?
He only ever did one-night stands. It was never messy that way. No one became entangled. Occasionally, those one-night stands were repeated. As with Serena. Sleeping with the same woman was sometimes convenient.
Turning, he passed through his bedroom door. Serena followed him down the stairs. She slipped on her high heels where she’d kicked them off near his kitchen table and motioned to the plate of scones.