Page 23 of Sinful Temptations

Casting caution aside, I dashed across the grassy expanse, snatched up the milk crate, found a second crate, and with one in each hand, raced back to the fence.

With my heart about to explode, I searched the darkness.

My fugitive status was still intact.

I put the crates atop each other and checked their sturdiness. There was no delicate way to do the next bit. So, with my ass in the air and my tits between my knees, I climbed the wobbling crates. Anyone who happened to be walking past would be treated to a full view of what I had for breakfast.

Clutching the fence, I peeked over. In the courtyard was the cottage garden I’d seen over Pierre’s balcony the first time I’d visited. It overflowed with vegetable bushes, dozens of statues, and creepy little gnomes. A clothesline stretched along one side, heavily burdened with enormous underpants and bras that dwarfed my size-F lingerie.

Now I just had to figure out how to get over the timber palings without ripping myself a new vagina.

I glanced around. Still clear. It was impossible to believe I was in the middle of one of Europe’s most populated cities. People should be everywhere.

A rotten thought bounced through my head like a rubber bullet. What if the police had cordoned off the area and were preparing to send in the dogs?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Tightening the flimsy apron string around my waist, I leaned my body onto the palings and swung my right leg up onto the fence. My vagina was getting more air than it’d seen in its entire twenty-nine years of life.

If anyone approached me now, we’d both have a coronary.

Praying I didn’t get splinters in my flaps, I dragged my body up onto the fence and straddled it for the briefest of moments before tossing myself over the other side.

I face-planted into the vegetable garden—my fall broken by a healthy tomato bush. Scrambling to my feet, I plucked tomato flesh from my right breast and a squished cucumber from my hip.

Crouching down, I dashed beneath the cover of the hanging washing and rescued my bra and panties. With one eye on the back door, expecting it to spring open at any second, I grabbed my shirt from a faded flamingo statue and my pants from the mop leaning against the fence.

I had never dressed so fast in my life. By the time I was decent, I could barely breathe.

Time to get the fuck out of there.

But my heart shot to my throat at my new dilemma. There was no way to climb back over the fence. The vegetable patch was too low. I couldn’t even reach the top of the fence, let alone pull myself up onto it.

“Shit.”

The tiny courtyard began creeping in, inching closer. All at once, I was both hot and cold. My head spun as my eyes flicked from the fence to the door to the balcony above.

Pierre’s balcony.

Stepping back and glancing upward, I assessed whether that was a possible escape route. Nope. Not a chance.

I stared at the wooden door. It was my only escape.

What were the chances of it being unlocked?

Oh, God, am I really thinking about breaking into someone’s home?

I felt like life was trying to teach me a valuable lesson. Though I had no fucking idea what it could possibly be.

I crept forward in stealth mode, crouching down like some kind of out-of-shape ninja. At the door, I put my ear to the wood and listened. Nothing. With my breath trapped in my throat, I reached for the handle and turned.

The door popped open like it was spring-loaded and I sprinted to the clothesline and hid behind a massive pair of men’s Y-fronts.

I have totally lost my mind.

My blood pounded through my veins as I counted the seconds, expecting a man with a shotgun to come bolting through the door at any moment.

Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

---