Page 27 of Obeying the Owner

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I add another pillow to the stack behind me and lie back on my bed to watch an episode of a home improvement show. I like shows like this because I can watch any episode at any time. There’s no story to follow along with, and even though I don’t have my own place, I’d like some decorating ideas for when I do.

For the entire day and night, James has been intruding on my thoughts whenever my mind isn’t otherwise occupied.

After lunch with Lucy, where she planted the seeds of hope, it’s been even worse. I was prepared to never see him again, and now I’m wondering if she was right. He and I are compatible sexually. Why go to the trouble of sleeping with other guys if he can scratch my itch?

I give up on the show I’m watching after ten minutes. It’s not holding my interest, and I’m still thinking about James. Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I tap the Finder icon on the screen. My heart leaps to my throat when I see a message, and my fingers feel uncoordinated as I open it.

James: Mae, I know we didn’t make plans, but I’d like to see you again. How about you meet me at my place tomorrow night at eight?

Oh my God! I shoot straight up in my bed.

He wants to see me again.

I wave my arms and kick my heels into the mattress as I do a celebratory dance. I start to type out a reply and then I pause for a moment. I need to slow down, think about what I want to say, and not react like a flattered schoolgirl—even if I feel like one.

After a few minutes of sifting through my thoughts, which are spinning like a tornado, I come up with what I want to say.

Me: Hi, James. Tomorrow night works for me. I’ll see you then.

I send it through before I can change my mind, and place a hand over my racing heart.

Flopping back on the pile of pillows, I stare up at the ceiling with a goofy smile arcing my lips. More orgasms, and I’m going to get another chance to get my hands on James’s hot body. This time, I’m going to make sure I don’t miss out on the opportunity.

CHAPTER 8

TREY

I’m sitting on the front porch steps when Mae pulls into my driveway. Rising to my feet, I descend the stairs and hurry over to open her door.

“Well, this is good service.” She smiles, stepping onto the pavement. She moves out of the way, and I close the door.

I smile back at her. “Hey, I’m a Southern gentleman at heart.”

She nods her approval. “I like that about you.”

Catching hold of her hand, I lead her up the stairs and around the side of the porch. “I made mojitos and was thinking since it’s not as humid, we could sit out here for a bit.”

“That sounds great.”

“Sit down.” I gesture to the wicker loveseat.

She places her keys down on the teak coffee table and lowers onto one of the thick cushions. Taking the seat next to her, I hand her a drink.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I hope it tastes good. This is my first time making mojitos, and I’ve never tried one before.”

“Ooh, a mojito virgin.” Her eyes twinkle over the rim of her glass. “Take a sip and pop that cherry.”

Chuckling, I grab the remaining mojito and lift it to my lips, trying it out. It’s sweet and fizzy against my tongue, and when I swallow it down, I notice the minty lime taste.

“What do you think?” Mae asks.

“It’s a bit too sweet, but it’s kind of refreshing.” I take a longer sip and lick my lips. “It might be growing on me.”

Her mouth turns upward on one side. “That’s how every alcoholic beverage I’ve ever tried has been. They’re an acquired taste, but I prefer mixed drinks.”

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