Page 7 of Flaunt
He looks me up and down, his eyes dragging over my body. “Okay.”
I hate him.
Goose bumps spreading across my skin, I hop up onto the sink and watch him work. I don’t know why God decided to shake a few extra shots of hot magic into the Banks mixture, but I’d like to talk to Him about it. It was an abysmal choice.
Banks is a conundrum—and stupidly handsome. An Ivy League haircut and grease-stained jeans. A wildly successful businessman who craves attention like a child. He has the kindest heart but will make you want to kill him despite it.
What do you do with that?
His back muscles flex under his thin white T-shirt. I bite my lip.I know what I could do with that.
“Do you even know what you’re doing?” I ask, my feet dangling off the edge of the counter.
He peers up through his thick lashes. “Do you want to do this?”
“I could figure it out, but I have to be out of here by six.”
“Why?”
“Because my landlord is a dick.” I sigh as he turns back to the task at hand. “My ex-boss helped me arrange this place because the location is the bomb, and the rent was … discounted.”
“I bet.”
I poke him with the tips of my pink-painted toes. “But now that my ex-boss and I aren’t getting it on, I’m not getting a sweetheart deal anymore. And because I can’t afford the actual rent for this area, I have to be out of here by six.Andif I leave something stuck in the toilet, he’s going to keep the baby-sized deposit I put down on the place, and I need it to survive.”
“Maybe you should fuck the landlord.”
“Ha, ha, ha.”
Banks moves to the other side of the toilet with his wrench. “At least you’d have a place to stay. You cut the middleman out that way.”
“I’d consider it, but I don’t have enough money at this point to even pay what Iwaspaying.”
“Where’d your money go?” he asks.
“Muggers. Shade House. Concert tickets. The usual irresponsible places to spend your paycheck.”
He glances over his shoulder.
“What?” I ask. “I’m terrible at managing money.”
“Want a life hack?”
“Sure.”
His arms flex as he works the wrench.Damn. “The key is to get others to pay for your stuff. I have tons of cash in the bank because I learned this at a young age.” He picks up the two nuts that held the toilet to the studs. “If I liked you, I could be your sugar daddy.”
“I’d rather panhandle, but thanks.”
He stands, stretching his long frame out.
Banks’s wide shoulders are offset by his narrow waist. His thick legs remind me that Ashley said he and Maddox wrestled all their lives.I bet his cardio is spectacular.
He positions himself just shy of being between my thighs. If he notices the proximity, he doesn’t react. But I don’t expect him to. He pulled this shit throughout the Orlando trip—touching my waist as he walked around me, guiding me into gas stations with his hand lightly against the small of my back, holding open every door we reached.
Does he do it to screw with me? Is he playing a game? Or is he truly just a goofball with good manners who doesn’t read the room?
Beats me.
