Page 32 of Baby I'm Yours

“I will feed you, yes, but this isn’t for fun,” I say. “It’s to make sure you stay away from places where you might be seen by someone we know. Weaver and Anthony don’t come to this neck of the woods often, but when they do, they’ll be passing withina few blocks of the building to head to meetings and the like. Therefore, you will need to make sure you stay away from those areas.”

She gives a little salute. “Sir, yes, sir. Ready to have no fun at all, sir.”

Despite my promise not to fall under this woman’s flirtatious spell, I find my lips curving as I say, “Fine. Tiny amount of fun. But then, right back to the grindstone for you.”

“The grindstone… Is that what they’re calling it these days?” She grins at me over the rim of her mug, and I can’t help but laugh. She takes a sip, humming as she swallows. “This is delicious. You make a mean cup of coffee, drill sergeant.”

“Thanks,” I say. “One of my many hidden talents.”

Her brown eyes dance with trouble. “In addition to knowing exactly how to grind your stone?”

“Damn straight,” I say, my voice huskier. I’m tempted to grind her stone right now, before she has a chance to put on pants. But if we start up again, I’m not sure I’ll be able to get out of bed before noon. She’s…addictive that way. “Up and at ‘em, Murphy. You’re burning daylight.”

She salutes again before rolling out of bed, coffee still in hand. I’m treated to a tempting flash of her ass as her silk shorts ride up in the back on my way out, a fact that has me hard by the time I reach the kitchen.

This woman…

She does things to me.

Things the grueling summer heat will hopefully tamp down as we walk the city streets.

Thirty minutes later, the sun is indeed beating down on our heads without mercy as I guide Elaina up Eighty-Second Street, doing my best to ignore how good she looks in her vintage sundress.

The pale, yellow cotton hugs her curves in a way that’s almost obscene. I’ve already caught three different men giving themselves whiplash as they wheeled their heads around to get a better look at her ass.

Not that I blame them.

That ass is a work of art.

But that doesn’t stop the caveman urge to punch them from rising in my chest. I glare at the last one with such menace, that when he finally rips his gaze from Elaina’s body long enough to realize he’s been caught, he flinches like I’ve struck him.

He lifts a hand in a silent show of surrender, keeping his gaze on the pavement as he gives us a wide berth.

Elaina chuckles as she murmurs, “Where were you when I was seventeen and creepy old men used to follow me around the theme park?”

“I was thirty-three and staying far away from teen girls,” I say, the reminder of our age gap enough to make me feel slightly ashamed of myself for how often I’ve thought about being inside her this morning. But only slightly… “When you come out by yourself, please wear something less conspicuous.”

She hums thoughtfully. “And why would I want to do that? I’m not afraid of creepy old men anymore.” She casts a flirty glance my way beneath her lashes. “I actually like some of them.”

“And I like knowing that you aren’t going to get assaulted,” I say seriously. “New York isn’t as safe as it was even ten years ago. And if something happened to you, I’d have to kill someone, and going to prison would interfere with many of my future plans.”

Her gaze softens, and there’s a hint of vulnerability in her tone as she murmurs, “That’s sweet.”

“Threatening murder?”

“Yes,” she says. “A guy wanting to unalive other guys for touching you without permission is hot.” She smiles before declaring in a deceptively innocent voice, “I’m at least twenty percent wetter than I was a second ago.”

I arch a warning brow and she giggles.

“Brat,” I whisper.

“What? I’m not lying…” She slides her hand into mine, a gesture that feels surprisingly intimate.

I’m even more surprised when my fingers close around hers, holding on as we round the corner, turning onto the shady side of the next street.

“Our first stop, the library,” I say, motioning toward the historic building ahead. “It’s quiet, air-conditioned, and you’re highly unlikely to run into anyone we know. The reading room on the second floor has nice natural light and comfortable chairs, and they recently installed a small sandwich shop on the main floor.”

She arches a brow my way. “Sounds good. But how do you know about the reading room if you’re never here?”

---