Page 118 of Duty and Desire
He wanted to be out there.
He needed to be in the dressing room.
She opened the door.
He crowded her in.
He then said a prayer of gratitude that she hadn’t fucked around putting on her street clothes.
“What’s going on?” she asked as the door clicked behind him.
He locked it without looking at it. If a girl needed in, she’d just have to knock.
Lottie’s face was pale.
“He’s here.”
“Ohmigod,” she breathed. “How do you know?”
“I know.”
“Are they?—?”
“Just do your thing, Lottie. Let’s get you home.”
“But, are they?—?”
He lifted both hands and framed her face.
Her eyelids went hooded and her body swayed to him.
Fuck.
Fuck.
She was so fuckinghis.
Mo fought how badly he needed to claim that and repeated his order of, “Just do your thing, baby.”
It took her a beat.
But then she whispered, “Okay, Mo.”
That was his girl.
He pressed in lightly and let her go.
It was slow, he could tell she was concentrating on her movements, but she walked back to her mirror.
Mo stood by the door, put his back to the wall and aimed his eyes at the floor.
“You okay?” she called.
“Don’t think about me.”
“That’s impossible.”
Of course it was.
