Page 78 of Devious Corruption
“People might get the wrong idea of I walk around smelling like your aftershave.” She nudges the bottom of her glasses with her knuckle, pushing them back in place.
Gently, I pull them off of her, giving her a stern look when she seems ready to grab them back.
“We need to heat these.” Opening my drawer, I pullout a lighter I keep for the nights I enjoy a cigar alone in my office.
“You’re going to burn them,” she argues, squinting to watch me work.
“Trust me, Max,” I say, striking the lighter.
Lowering the flame enough so not to melt the plastic, I warm the frame until it’s workable. Palming the lighter, I get to work and bend the earpiece of the temple at a sharper angle. Once done with the one side, I do the other.
“What do you think people would think if they smelled my aftershave on you?” I blow on the temple, cooling it once I have shaped the way I want it.
“They’d think we’ve been together.”
I bring my gaze up to hers. “But we have been together.” I pause a beat, then smile. “Very together.”
“They don’t need to know that,” she argues.
“So you don’t want them to know I’ve had my tongue inside you? My cock buried deep inside you?”
“Oh, god.” A blush erupts on her sweet face. And without her glasses on, I get a better look at her eyes as they widen in shock. “You don’t need to be so crude.”
I chuckle, then guide the glasses back into place, feeling behind her ears to be sure the temples fit better.
“That should do it.” I say, dropping the lighter back into the drawer.
She reaches up and touches the frames. “They do feel tighter.”
“Maybe you need a new pair. How old are these?”
Her ears turn red. She’s not embarrassed by my crassness now. It’s something else.
“I’ve had them for years. They work great so I haven’t bothered to get a new pair.”
She’s taken good care of them if they are years old. Much like her apartment, her clothes, everything she owns. They’ve been in her possession a long time but are well-loved and cared for.
Everything around her gets her love and attention. Something not reciprocated.
Anger burns beneath my skin. Her fucking brothers. It all comes back to those fucking pricks.
“Your eye is red.” Her fingertips lightly touch the skin below my left eye. “Does it hurt?”
I fight back the instinct to raise my hand to see what she’s talking about. She’s touching me, it’s a feather-light touch, but it’s unprompted. And it feels good. Her skin on mine. It lights a brand-new fire in me.
This woman gets under my skin too easily.
“No. It doesn’t hurt.” It itches, but nothing to complain about.
“Hmm, maybe you got something in it.” She drops her hand into her lap. “I was thinking about what you said upstairs.”
“Oh, yeah?” I brush a lock of her dark hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear.
She still wears my bite mark on her neck, right where her shoulder meets. It’s faint, and unless someone isstaring at her with as much intent as I am, they probably won’t see it.
“You’re right. I just assumed the worst about you, that you hate me. I’m not sure why I do that, but—” she stops, drops her eyes to her hands. “Anyway, I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry if I offended you in some way. You’re doing a lot for me, and you don’t have to.”
“You didn’t offend me,” I assure her.
