“My place or yours?” I answer, reaching forward and pulling her flush to my front. The swell of her breasts press against me,h and it takes everything in this good guy persona not to push her against the wall and bury my face between them.
“Yours,h” she squeaks. Her earlier confidence seems to have faded? but it doesn’t stop me from taking her hand and dragging her out of the pub and over to my car. If I'm desperate or too pushy, she doesn’t say anything, just follows along, her fingers wrapped tightly around mine.
“I’m not far from here,” I tell her as we walk up to my black pick-up truck. She doesn’t say anything as I open her door. Only giving me a slight grin before climbing up into the cab.
My dick rejoices for the up-close and personal view of her ass before she plants herself in the seat.
“Buckle up, babe,” I order, then close the door and walk around to my door. I’m not sure if the kick in my step is from having less alcohol through my body or the fact for the first time in a few months, I’m taking a woman to bed, and I’ll be able to remember it.
“You always this way?” she asks when I climb in. The click of her belt tells me she followed my request and isn’t going to sass me, but the tone of her question tells me her confidence is coming back.
“You mean following the law?” I offer a wink then watch the small pout of her lips spread into a reluctant grin.
Fuck me, she’s a cute thing.
“Smart ass,” she mutters under her breath, looking out the window. The conversation stays light; she asks me questions about Trebook’s tactical team and protocol, and I even dare to ask some more questions about her working at Boys Haven. Earlier when she said she worked at Boys Haven, I was taken back. My father was a youth worker for thirty years and at one point growing up, I almost followed his career path. Until my thirst for police work took over.
“You doing okay over there?” I ask as I turn down my street. She fell silent midconversation about two streets back, her fingers tensing over the strap of her purse.
“No.” She shakes her head, her color dropping to a shade of white. I’m not sure if she’s having second thoughts about coming home with me or she’s had too much to drink.
“You feel sick?” I ask when she doesn’t say anything else.
“No, no, no, no, no.” Her clear eyes narrow, looking from me to my apartment building.
“What is it?” I pull into my parking space and cut the engine.
“Apartment nine?” She spits the two words out like it leaves a bad taste in her mouth.
“Yeah?” I look at her horrified face and then the freshly painted nine above my parking spot.
“You have to be kidding me.” She pushes the release on her seatbelt and exits my truck, slamming the door behind her. I follow her out and watch as she walks around the car and stomps her way up the stairs.
“Want to tell me what the hell is happening here?” I race to catch up with her. A part of me starts to panic. I would never have picked her to turn out crazy, but by the looks of things, I might have an issue on my hands.
“Oh, not much, Hetch.” My name has never been delivered with such animosity before, and it takes a second to process it. “Just the fact I almost had sex with my annoying new neighbor who changes his women nearly as often as his underwear.”
What the fuck?
“Apartment seven?” I stop midstep as it all becomes clear. The change in her the closer we got home. The angry way she spat out my apartment number and the way she stomped up those steps like she knew her way.
“Oh, please. Don’t say it like I’m the pain in the ass.” She throws her sass over her shoulder and starts taking the steps two at a time.
Jesus Christ. This is the woman who’s had me messed up the last couple of days.
“What the hell are the chances? Of course, it’s my luck.” She keeps muttering, placing more distance between us. Shaking my shock away, I continue my pursuit.
“Are you shitting me right now?” I’m torn between laughing at the turn of events and watching the way her fuckable ass moves up the steps.
“Jesus, it’s like a bad joke. The man who rudely interrupted my Jill session last week is you. You!” I don’t think she realizes what she just blurted or how loud she’s being; instead, she continues to rant, “No fucking way you can make this shit up. This is just my luck.”
There are many comments I could lead with right now about the Jill session we had, but I decide I’m better off keeping my mouth shut.
“I almost gave up my sex ban for you. God help me.” She pushes her key in the door. The same door I’ve been walking past every day this week wondering when we would meet.
“Wait, Liberty. Come here and take a brea—”
“Like hell I’m going anywhere with you, Hetch.” She cuts me off.