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Authors: Julie Kriss
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better.
I was in the kitchen, banging the cupboards uselessly open and closed even though I wasn’t hungry, when I heard my cell phone beep.
The cell phone was a new thing. Nate had set me up with it because we often drove customers to and from the shop to drop off and pick up their cars, so he needed me to be reachable during the day. He also said it was a good idea in case of emergencies. I wondered what emergencies he thought I’d get myself into, but I didn’t ask.
I rarely used the thing, especially after hours, since I had no friends, so it took me a minute to find it in my jacket by the door. It had lit up with a text message. I tapped the button and read it.
I have your sweatshirt. Come and get it.
I stared at the words, unbelieving. I didn’t even know Summer had my number. I sure as hell had never given it to her. She must have gotten it from her father somehow.
I read the words again, making sure I wasn’t deluding myself. Nope. Unless I was very much mistaken, Summer Friesen was giving me a come-fuck-me call.
I couldn’t help smiling. She wasn’t mad at me, wasn’t offended. She didn’t think I was disgusting. She’d thought over what I’d done and decided she liked it.
Well, then. I had more for her if she wanted it.
I hit Reply and typed, Where?
My apartment, she wrote back right away. Then she gave me the address of a small apartment building in downtown Terre Mills, about six blocks from her shop.
A private Saturday night with Summer. Fuck yes. If I were a religious man, I would be sending thanks for this heavenly gift right now. But I couldn’t look too eager, and I had to tease her a little. I typed, Maybe.
You have twenty minutes, she shot back.
This woman. This woman.
I got there in fifteen.
Summer’s apartment was on the fourth floor, so I skipped the elevator and pounded up the stairs. I knocked on her door and waited.
She answered it. Her blond hair was tousled, falling past her shoulders. Her hazel eyes were deep and beautiful. She didn’t wear much makeup, and she hadn’t put any on her mouth, which was naturally pink, her sexy lips parted. She was wearing my sweatshirt and, it seemed, nothing else.
My mouth went dry. So this was how she’d decided to take me up on it.
I walked into her apartment, and she took a few steps back, her eyes still on me. I closed the door behind me. I watched her shapely legs, bare beneath the hem of my shirt. She’d unzipped it a little, and I could see her collarbones, could see the swell of her incredible breasts beneath the fabric.
“That’s mine,” I growled, motioning to the sweatshirt. “Take it the fuck off.”
She tilted her chin up, and then she slowly unzipped it. I could hear each individual goddamned tooth separating. I could have ripped the shirt off her in seconds, but I watched her instead. Watched the show she was giving me. The best show I’d ever seen in my life, better than anything I’d imagined during the long, cold nights in jail. I’d have paid a million dollars that I didn’t have for a show like this, and she was giving it to me for free.
She was watching me, her gaze on me. She was taking in my reaction, and it was turning her on. She licked her lips.
She finished unzipping the shirt, and it dropped to the floor.
I had nothing to say. Nothing. She wasn’t totally naked—she’d put on a tiny, lacy pair of panties and a matching lacy bra that was just a scrap of fabric, cupping her tits, her nipples clearly visible. I’d seen her naked on the beach six years ago, but even though I’d paused to take a look, I’d always regretted that I hadn’t spent long enough at it. I’d been too eager to get inside her. That was nothing to how eager I was now, but still I made myself pause and look at her.
Summer wasn’t one of those skinny model types. She never had been. She had round hips and a round ass, but God damn, everything was in exactly the right place. Curves right where they should be, like an
I was in the kitchen, banging the cupboards uselessly open and closed even though I wasn’t hungry, when I heard my cell phone beep.
The cell phone was a new thing. Nate had set me up with it because we often drove customers to and from the shop to drop off and pick up their cars, so he needed me to be reachable during the day. He also said it was a good idea in case of emergencies. I wondered what emergencies he thought I’d get myself into, but I didn’t ask.
I rarely used the thing, especially after hours, since I had no friends, so it took me a minute to find it in my jacket by the door. It had lit up with a text message. I tapped the button and read it.
I have your sweatshirt. Come and get it.
I stared at the words, unbelieving. I didn’t even know Summer had my number. I sure as hell had never given it to her. She must have gotten it from her father somehow.
I read the words again, making sure I wasn’t deluding myself. Nope. Unless I was very much mistaken, Summer Friesen was giving me a come-fuck-me call.
I couldn’t help smiling. She wasn’t mad at me, wasn’t offended. She didn’t think I was disgusting. She’d thought over what I’d done and decided she liked it.
Well, then. I had more for her if she wanted it.
I hit Reply and typed, Where?
My apartment, she wrote back right away. Then she gave me the address of a small apartment building in downtown Terre Mills, about six blocks from her shop.
A private Saturday night with Summer. Fuck yes. If I were a religious man, I would be sending thanks for this heavenly gift right now. But I couldn’t look too eager, and I had to tease her a little. I typed, Maybe.
You have twenty minutes, she shot back.
This woman. This woman.
I got there in fifteen.
Summer’s apartment was on the fourth floor, so I skipped the elevator and pounded up the stairs. I knocked on her door and waited.
She answered it. Her blond hair was tousled, falling past her shoulders. Her hazel eyes were deep and beautiful. She didn’t wear much makeup, and she hadn’t put any on her mouth, which was naturally pink, her sexy lips parted. She was wearing my sweatshirt and, it seemed, nothing else.
My mouth went dry. So this was how she’d decided to take me up on it.
I walked into her apartment, and she took a few steps back, her eyes still on me. I closed the door behind me. I watched her shapely legs, bare beneath the hem of my shirt. She’d unzipped it a little, and I could see her collarbones, could see the swell of her incredible breasts beneath the fabric.
“That’s mine,” I growled, motioning to the sweatshirt. “Take it the fuck off.”
She tilted her chin up, and then she slowly unzipped it. I could hear each individual goddamned tooth separating. I could have ripped the shirt off her in seconds, but I watched her instead. Watched the show she was giving me. The best show I’d ever seen in my life, better than anything I’d imagined during the long, cold nights in jail. I’d have paid a million dollars that I didn’t have for a show like this, and she was giving it to me for free.
She was watching me, her gaze on me. She was taking in my reaction, and it was turning her on. She licked her lips.
She finished unzipping the shirt, and it dropped to the floor.
I had nothing to say. Nothing. She wasn’t totally naked—she’d put on a tiny, lacy pair of panties and a matching lacy bra that was just a scrap of fabric, cupping her tits, her nipples clearly visible. I’d seen her naked on the beach six years ago, but even though I’d paused to take a look, I’d always regretted that I hadn’t spent long enough at it. I’d been too eager to get inside her. That was nothing to how eager I was now, but still I made myself pause and look at her.
Summer wasn’t one of those skinny model types. She never had been. She had round hips and a round ass, but God damn, everything was in exactly the right place. Curves right where they should be, like an
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