Page 62 of The Devil's Scars

She leaned back and away, and his arms released her. She felt a small pang of disappointment that he hadn’t held on, then caught herself. She didn’t want him to want her.

Right?

Right.

“OK now?” he asked, those eyes narrowed to blue flame as he waited for her answer. “Breathing again?”

“Yeah. I’m good. Thanks.”

He nodded. “Seems you’re always short of breath around me. And you’re always pressed up against me outside this bathroom door.”

She flushed, but she couldn’t really argue with the man. Still, his comments weren’t terrifically helpful, all things considered.

“Actually…” She cleared her throat. “Ummm… I wanted to –to talk to you. Alone, if possible. If you’re not busy, I mean…”

“I’m not busy.”

“But…” She looked around, wondering if he’d just finished up and left Vixen in the back room. Maybe they were done already? But that didn’t jive with what she knew about Scars and sex – the man was pure filth, and he took his time. “What about Vixen?”

“Yeah, I gave her a boost.”

Zoe paused, surprised how much it pained her to think of Scars with another woman after all. She opted for humor, though:

“A boost? Is that what the cool kids are calling it these days?”

Scars gazed down at her. He wasn’t touching her anymore, but he was close enough that she felt his body heat. She swallowed, hard, remembering how hot and wet he’d made her. Her pussy gave a tiny twinge, a little pulse, and she fought does the urge to cross her legs to contain the slowly-building, -rising feelings.

“Calling what?” he asked.

“What?”

“What are the cool kids calling ‘a boost’ these days?”

“Uh.” Mortified at just how badly the joke had gone, she flushed what was surely purple by this point. “Uh, you know.”

“Nope.”

“You know, Scars. What you and Vixen were just doing.”

He stared at her some more, then a look of understanding flashed over that hard, damaged face.

“Ohhh, wait up.” He cocked his head at her. “You think me and Vix were off having sex.”

“Well… yeah. You ‘gave her a boost’.” Zoe put air-quotes around the phrase, still pathetically trying to pass it off as a joke. “I figure that’s Road Devils in-house slang for banging.”

“It’s not,” he said crisply. “I actually gave the woman a boost. Her car battery was dead.”

“Oh.” Zoe wondered if she could feel any stupider, decided on the whole, probably not. “Right.”

“What do you care if I’d been banging Vix, anyway?” he demanded suddenly, and most inconveniently. “It’s not like I’m a taken man.”

“Oh, I know.” She scrambled to retrieve a mere smidgen of her dignity. “I mean… I know you’re not. So… so could we talk? Please? It won’t take long. It can’t take long, because I have to get home to Keira by nine, so you know – I won’t take up too much of your evening… but if you can’t now, maybe we can –”

“Zoe,” he said, mercifully cutting off her rushing tidal wave of rambling inanity, and saving her from having to seek a hole to swallow her up. “It’s fine. Now is fine.”

“Oh. OK, then.”

“C’mon.” Gently, he turned her whole body, kept his hand on her lower back as he guided her to the manager’s office. “In here. It’s sound-proofed so I can actually focus on paperwork and take calls, even when the music is blaring, so it’s quiet enough to talk.”

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