Page 36 of Gifts

Oh shit. My eyes go big and I have no words. What I can say is, since nothing else has worked, I’m up for being unfucked by Asa Hollingsworth. Wet panties don’t lie.

“I guess it’s too soon, but it’s true,” he says.

I shake my head in what little space he’s given me. “I like knowing what you’re thinking.”

He lowers his voice and gives me a whisper-soft kiss. “I’ll only ever give you the truth.”

Of all the things he’s said so far, this is what creates a lump in my throat. I am a fucked-up freak. He has no idea what he’s getting himself into.

“I don’t want to, but I need to get home. I have a daughter to figure out and after today, I need to up my game. Since I have no game when it comes to parenting, I have a lot of shit to do.”

He leans down again and this time I get his strong lips, slow yet demanding as he tastes me, taking his time. Having this for the first time in so long, I don’t want it to end. But it being Asa? This straight-talking, burly man who wants to take on unfucking me at the same time he has his own shit to deal with? I never imagined the day I’d think this, but I don’t want him to leave, I don’t want to lose his touch, and until this moment, I had no idea how much I’d want all that and more.

He gives my ass a squeeze making my insides flip. “Let’s get together with the kids again. I want to see you soon. I’ll get takeout tomorrow, we’ll all eat here. I need to get Emma out of the house again anyway.”

I close my eyes and nod, not wanting to make a mistake, but I can’t say no, so I look up and give in. “Saylor’s picky. I’ll make dinner, just don’t expect anything fancy.”

“You sure about that? Levi can eat a horse, especially after practice.”

I smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He sighs and looks regretful. “I’ve gotta go.”

He releases me, albeit slowly. When he steps away to open the door, the cool night air is a frigid force compared to Asa’s warm, hard body.

“I’ll text you since you’ll be at work.” He lifts his hand to cup my face and brushes his thumb over my lower lip. Then he smirks. “And I promise it’ll be good. You’ll never get a text like that from me again.”

I’m grateful for that. Even though I didn’t want to admit it, I can’t think about how much that stung.

Then, as if he can’t stop himself, he leans in one last time and I get his lips.

He doesn’t offer another word, but his eyes drag the length of me one more time. Nodding quickly before he leaves, he pulls the door shut after himself. I lock it and this time hear the door slam on his truck before he starts the engine.

But I don’t move to my bedroom. I’m paralyzed.

Resting my forehead against my front door, I wonder what just happened. This man who saved me from the worst date in the history of dates, who ended up being a parent from school, who’s basically told me twice now he’s looking forward to fucking me, just kissed me.

He kissed me.

Bringing my hands up to the door, I steady myself and pull in a big breath. Not sure which needs steadying more—my legs or my heart—I can’t help where my brain goes. I shouldn’t keep track of time, I know this by now. David might have died twenty months ago, but I know for a fact that’s the first time I’ve been kissed in well over two years.

I push against the door and go to the stairs, swallowing over the lump in my throat. I’m not going to think about time past, or in my case, time lost. Tonight, I’m going to go to bed and only think about Asa’s lips, his body, and his promises. And I might just pray he’s the one who can unfuck me.

Chapter 9

Cornflake Chicken and Wine Barrels

Asa

“Fuck, man. How many times do I need to tell you? I don’t know them.”

I press my forearm into the back of his neck with his face pressed against the brick of the building where we followed him. After watching a woman come and go from the address listed on his most recent arrest record, we trailed her and found him. We made our approach here, at a building in a warehouse district in Vienna. Lucky for me, it’s sparse and deserted, making it easy for us to talk to him.

Not that Crew and Grady have done any talking. They’re standing behind me and the last time I glanced back, they looked bored as hell.

Raymond Wallace is a street dealer for a reason—he’s a moron who doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.

“You were making a delivery last week to those young girls. Who sent you there?” I press harder and listen to him groan.

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