Page 27 of Show Me How
“No. I did that because I wanted to spend time with you. I’ve wanted that since the night we met. Besides, I’m not really the guy women call when they want their broken heart mended.”
“So you just avoid all the sad people you see?”
I leave my food in its container and wipe my hands on a napkin. The restlessness that’s swarming me right now makes it hard to sit still. Spreading my legs, I scratch at my jaw.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I don’t understand,” she murmurs.
There’s a ball of fire rolling through my groin, sparked by the innocence in her tone. The confusion that hints once again at an inexperience that should have me crawling back into myself. I don’t mess around with women who don’t know what they want, and I damn well don’t entertain the idea of it with one who seems blind to the sexual chemistry that’s been throbbing between us since the night we met.
Sipping on a long inhale, I bend over my lap and turn my head so I’m staring directly at her. Guarded, almost shy blue eyes pierce into me, watching and waiting.
“I’m someone women seek out when they want their memory fucked away, princess.”
She squeaks. The prettiest pink crawls up her throat and to her ears. I drop a hand to my knee and squeeze to keep from doing something so fucking stupid and reaching for the thighs she snaps together. Her chest rises with uneven breaths.
“Oh.”
My chuckle is rough, grated. “Yeah.”
“Is that . . . what you like?”
“Sex with no strings is the only kind I have. It’s more passionate that way. Raw.”
She jerks her head in a nod and reaches for the collar of her shirt, plucking it away where it cups the base of her throat. I fidget again, the crotch of my jeans growing a size tighter.
“I’m not feeling well. I think—I’m going to go,” she rambles, her cheeks growing a deeper shade of red.
Alarm shoots through me. “Are you sure? What’s wrong?”
“Can I come by the studio to talk about the job tomorrow? I’ll—I’ll leave my number.”
“Yeah, of course you can. Are you alright to drive?”
Snagging a pencil from the bowl of them on the kitchen counter, she scribbles on a scrap of paper. “Yep!”
I get to my feet and follow her when she collects her things and rushes around the couch and to the door. Not wanting to overwhelm her, I keep a few paces back, hovering as close as I can.
“Do you want to take your dinner for later?”
“No, thank you. I’ll see you!” she rushes out, already halfway out the door.
I keep my feet anchored to the floor and let her go with a reminder that I don’t chase women. Not like that, and not in any other way. It’s not who I am.
Yet here I am, wishing like hell I was.
9
MILLIE
I’m sweating.It has to be dripping from my skin like water at this point.
My heart is hammering so loudly that I can’t hear myself think as I rush down the stairs and out the door. The cool temperature of the night doesn’t help. The wind sticks to my slick skin, making it feel all the more sensitive.
“Oh, God,” I groan.
The heat from Shade’s gaze lingers, even once I’ve made it to the street in front of the studio. His rasped, rough voice replays in my ears, and I try to shake it free. My breasts feel tight, constricted in my bra and blouse that I’ve been debating ripping clean off.
