“Mercy, you—” Mom came bustling in, caught sight of me, and froze.
Looking down, I realized I’d leaned forward in my seat and had my hands on Mercy’s desk. She was staring at me, stiff as a board, her expression unreadable. We both relaxed at the same time and faced Mom.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, looking back and forth between us.
“Yes,” we said at once.
Mercy slid her laptop into her bag. “You ready to go?”
Mom looked wary, but she nodded, and we headed out.
“How are you feeling, Mercy?” Mom asked as we approached the house.
Mercy stretched, and I once again checked out her rack. “A bit sore. You?”
“The same. Think I’ll call it an early night and take an Epsom salt bath. Then sleep on a heating pad. We have leftovers in the fridge for dinner, Landon.”
“Don’t worry about me,” I said, walking her to the door. “I know how to forage.”
Mercy and I continued on in silence until we reached her building and stopped in front of the security door.
“So….” I stuffed my hands into my pockets. “When are the bikers installing the camera at your place?”
“They’re not.”
“But they can?—”
“It’s one thing to have them monitoring a place of business, but no, I’m not comfortable with that.”
I wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or pissed that the woman was once again refusing help offered to her. “You’ll be done with the gym by seven?” I asked, hoping the invitation still stood.
She nodded, her attention still straight ahead. “But I’ll probably come to my senses by then.” Her gaze slammed into mine. “Your best bet is to come up now.”
By the time I recognized the heat in her eyes and pieced together the invitation, she was unlocking the door. She didn’t slam it in my face, so I followed her to her apartment. I had no idea what flipped the switch tonight. We’d been dancing around the sexual tension for a few days, but I wasn’t about to question her.
This trip upstairs differed from the last time. She didn’t shake her ass or send me flirty looks over her shoulder. No, today, anticipation added weight to the atmosphere. Our pace was quicker. I had no fucking clue what she was thinking, but I couldn’t wait to get my mouth on her pussy again. The memory of her taste kept making my mouth water. Soon, her sweet sounds would be the music playing in my ears.
I’d never been more turned on in my life. I should have been more concerned about that, but my cock was testing the thread strength of these jeans. It was taking all my self-control not to bend her over the railing and fuck her in the stairwell.
As we entered her apartment, the events of the day crashed into me, and I fought back dark thoughts of what could have happened had I not been with Mercy this morning. I locked the door behind me and lost the battle to keep my hands off her. Without saying a word, I slid the straps of her purse and laptop over her shoulder and down her arm. Mercy watched me, her expression unreadable as I set them gently on the floor and removed her coat. My arm brushed across the swell of her breast, and her eyes dilated. This thing between us—whatever the fuck it was—she felt it, too.
I hung her coat on the rack and then dropped to my knees to remove her shoes, holding her legs to steady her. She was still wearing that sexy skirt she’d been sure to show me this morning, but her legs were bare and cold since her torn tights were gone. I swallowed back a curse, knowing today could have gone much worse, and briskly ran my warm hands up and down her legs, trying to warm her up. Each touch sent bolts of adrenaline up my arms. On my knees, and with her in that skirt, I was at the perfect height to warm her up more efficiently if she’d let me.
My hands slid up her smooth legs, pausing on her knees as I sought her eyes for permission. “I need to lick your pussy.”
Her pupils flared with desire, so my fingers slid higher, reaching up to peel down a little red thong that I held up in question.
A hint of pink splashed across her cheeks, but she held my gaze unapologetically as she said, “What? I wanted to feel sexy.”
“You sure this wasn’t for me?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not even sure I should let you touch me.”
“They’re soaking wet, babe.” And they smelled delicious.
Before she could respond, I slipped under her skirt. The fragrance of her arousal lured me right to where I needed to be, and like her thong, she was practically dripping. She was still pissed at me, but her pussy recognized a good time and was all too ready for me. Something was different. It took me a moment to realize she’d shaved.
For me.
