Page 12 of Owned In Misty Mountain

When I walk back outside and lock eyes with Mike again—his stare is even heavier.

Hotter.

Hungrier.

Seven

Mike

I shouldn’t be here this late.

But I am.

Finishing up bullshit I could’ve left for the crew tomorrow.

Truth is, I didn’t sleep last night.

Not after what I heard.

Not after learning she’s untouched.

I jerked off twice with her name in my mouth and still woke up aching.

Now I’m in the back room of the library, trying to distract myself with drywall and paint.

It doesn’t work.

It never fucking works.

Then I hear the soft click of the front door.

Footsteps.

And I know.

I feel it in my chest before I even see her.

Shanay.

She rounds the corner, carrying a small tote bag and a tablet. Wearing a light-colored hoodie and black leggings that hug her ass like a second skin.

She stops when she sees me. Blinks. Swallows.

“Didn’t know you’d still be here,” she says, her voice too soft, too innocent, too fucking dangerous.

“Didn’t know you were coming back.”

She hesitates. “I left my notes for a grant application. Thought I’d grab them before locking up.”

I nod.

But I don’t move.

And neither does she.

Her eyes travel down my body.

Chest. Stomach. Arms.

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