Page 14 of All Twerk, No Play

Thankfully when he suggested we leave, I jolted back into reality. He was only kissing me to avoid that woman. So instead of dwelling on his lingering taste on my lips and his phantom touch on my skin, I focused on his jealousy plan—surprised I hadn’t thought of it.

Kissing him succeeded in getting Alexander’s attention. As we left, I’d caught his gaze … but his scowl wasn’t as satisfying as I expected.

When my father approved of Alexander, I thought I’d moved past this phase of my life. But apparently not, because a hot stranger kissed me. And touched my ass. And sweet lord, his big hands ignited a fire inside me.

Then he hummed that song and I almost lost it. He couldn’t know what that song means, so why had I reacted that way? What had I been thinking?

As the cab pulled up to the condo building’s entrance, I composed myself for the short walk inside. I planned the rest of my evening: cleanse my shame with a scalding shower, refill that intolerable air mattress, cuddle with Jurisprudence, and put this dreadful day behind me.

Tonight was a lapse in judgment with a man I would never see again.

Tomorrow my bedroom furniture would arrive. By Monday, when I got the keys to my new office building, I’d feel like myself again.

I crossed the lobby, not recognizing the woman reflected in the metal elevator doors: Flyaway hairs, puffy lips, smudged mascara.

Beverly’s voice said,Whore.

Mallory’s voice said,Hot.

I dropped my forehead against my reflection.

As the elevator doors shifted close, a hand snuck through. A masculine hand, with dark purple fingernails. A hand that had just been …

“You creep,” I said, lifting my trembling fists. “You followed me?”

He lifted his palms, stepping cautiously to the elevator's opposite side.

“You should have stayed for self-defense class, you’ll break your thumb like that,” he said. “May I touch your hand?”

I stared at him in disbelief. His hand had just been on my ass, his tongue in my mouth—and I’d closed the remaining space, pressing my breasts into his chest.

And now, under the elevator’s harsh fluorescent lights, he asked to touch my hand like he was Fitzwilliam Fucking Darcy?

Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the intrigue of what he would say next, but I dipped my chin. He gently peeled back my fingers to place my thumb on the outside. He held my fist loosely in his warm grip, nodding at my heels. “Shift your right leg back, it'll make your cross more powerful.”

I adjusted my stance, dismayed as he lifted my fist to his jaw. “See? Rotate your hips, it’ll hurt me a hell of a lot more.”

When my knuckles brushed the soft scruff of his beard, I retracted my arms to my chest. “Good instincts, but guard your face too, that’s the moneymaker.” He tapped his thumb twice against his nose before turning his back to me to face the control panel.

“What are you doing here?” I croaked out.

“I live here.” His finger hovered over the buttons, as if following me into the elevator would get him an invitation to my place.Nice try, asshole.

“Prove it.”

He held up his key with a jingle. “1B. I’m the building superintendent.”

“No.” The denial came out forcefully, almost violently.

“No?” His brows lifted in amusement.

“No,” I repeated, recalling the email exchange. “The super’s name is … Aaron.”

“Eric.”

I rubbed my forehead. “Or was it Derek?”

He blew out a breath. “I’m the super, Eric de la Cruz.”

---