Page 23 of Sheltered by the Lawman

He leaned in and sniffed loudly. “I can smell your fear. Feel the election slipping?”

She drew back and slapped him hard on the cheek. The crack echoed through the deserted park. “Remember who you’re talking to.”

He felt the burning in his face, then he laughed while his cock grew. For the first time since he’d met her he realized just how hot she was despite her spoiled airiness. She wasn’t fat and had nice, big tits—fake, but nice. What the hell did he care? He’d still like to squeeze them. He’d also like to stick his dick in her and see if rich pussy was tighter than those whores he visited until his cock stopped showing up for the party. Maybe business would be finished soon and he could show her what a real man could do. He’d like to have one more fuck before…he swallowed hard. “Give me time.” He ran his fingertips down her cheek and she slapped his hand away, which only made him laugh harder.

“Fine! We’ll play this your way…for the moment. But don’t let that bitch out of your sight. Got it?”

“Loud and clear. In the meantime, you get your cash ready, sweetheart. My payday is coming.”

“Good. We’re done here.”

The man stubbed out his cigarette under his shoe. “Always nice seeing you,” he said.

With a huff, she retraced her steps back to the car. He watched the taillights disappear in the falling darkness and he reached for another cigarette, lit it and drew in deeply. He blew out a smoke ring and smiled. His way. The only thing he wanted, and needed, was the cash he was still owed and possibly a good blow.

The chick, Warren, didn’t have a chance in a million of getting away from her fate, not this next time. He’d dealt with slippery mother fuckers before, and every time he made sure he took care of business, even if it got a little messy.

For now, he’d wait in the shadows, watching and waiting for the opportune time when he could pounce. She’d get more than a hit over the head this next time or a few bullets whizzing by her head. He’d see that there was no saving her. He had a lot more patience than the boss lady.

He resituated his hard cock and stepped back into the shadows of the park. Soon, very, very soon…

****

“I’ll get that.”

At the sound of Monica’s voice, he swiveled. Cull’s heart skipped a beat as he roved his gaze over her. Her hair was damp and brushed out around her shoulders. She’d changed clothes and now wore a fitting T-shirt with the words, “I like my coffee how I like you. Tall, sweet, and hot.” Her nipples were swollen under the cotton and she shyly brought her gaze up to meet his. Her eyes were bright green surrounded by thick, long eyelashes. There was a magnificent pull between them and he warned himself that he’d have to be on his toes.

“Would you like me to do that?” She stepped into the kitchen.

He waved the spatula that he was using to dish out the lasagna. “Believe it or not, I’m capable of serving myself. I have lived alone.”

“Yes, of course.” Her bottom lip slightly trembled. Was she nervous? “Only two plates? Where are your parents?”

“They called to say they’re held up. So that means it’s just you and me.” He went back to dishing out the pasta onto his mother’s finest bone china. Seeing her worried expression, he asked, “Are you okay?”

“Sure. I made salad too. I’ll get it out of the fridge.”

He watched her bend over inside the refrigerator and his gaze naturally skimmed over the tight-fitting jeans. They looked amazing on and showed off her hips. All he could manage was a silent thank you that his sister left those jeans at the house.

Clearing his throat, he turned back to his task and tried to concentrate on scooping another slice of lasagna onto the plate, but it toppled over the side and landed upside down on the counter. Shit. He’d made a mess. He hurried to hide the evidence of the disaster in the trash can. He had, after all, bragged to her that he was capable. When she was near he suddenly felt incompetent.

When he turned, she was standing in the middle of the kitchen, her hands clasped while she worked her bottom lip. That poor lip got a lot of action. “Have a seat,” he offered.

“I can take a plate back to the apartment.”

“Don’t be silly. Come sit with me. Growing up with a house full has made me spoiled. I like conversation while I eat.” It wasn’t a lie. After placing the plates on the table, he hurried around to pull out a chair for her. Although he seemed to lose his head when she was around, he didn’t forget his manners.

“Thank you,” she offered with a faint smile.

As he took his own seat he jabbed a noodle with his fork and jammed it into his mouth, catching her looking at him. Damn. Why was he so nervous? He couldn’t remember ever feeling so upside down. Problem was, he wasn’t used to eating in front of a woman and caring what she thought, but there was something about Monica that made him want to at least appear like he was raised to be a gentleman.

Spreading a napkin over his lap, he dove into his lasagna with less zeal this time.

When she wasn’t eating, he set his fork down on the side of his plate. “Is there something wrong?” He lifted a brow. Had he already offended her barely five minutes into the meal?

“Nothing. I was only waiting to see if you liked it or not,” she admitted.

He felt some relief. “It’s delicious. Try for yourself.” He pointed at her plate.

---