Page 83 of Brew
“The truth. I didn’t show her the letter, but I told her he’d written to me.”
I shut the door behind me, then lock it. “What did she say?”
“She was upset, but she handled it really well.” Erica looks down at her feet. I tilt her chin back up with my finger.
“What aren’t you sayin’?”
“Brew, he knows where I live.”
“I know, it’s fucked. You’re not safe, Erica, I don’t want you comin’ back here until we find out who’s on the outside. It’s just not worth it.”
“Where would we go? I can’t live at Amber’s, their place is too small. It’s fine for a night or two, but?—”
“My place.”
Her eyebrows practically touch the top of her head. “Your place?”
“It’s quite spacious and has three bedrooms.”
“What about Nova?”
“She can go to Haze’s,” I say. “That way it’s closer to work, and I can keep an eye on you.”
Her eyes meet mine. “That reminds me, my daughter seems to think it’s okay to give me dating-my-boss tips, any reason for that?”
I shrug. “Datin’? I thought we were just fuckin’?”
Her mouth opens to an ‘O’ and I laugh as she slaps me on the arm. “You did not just say that.”
“I didn’t say shit to Olive, but she’s observant, I’ll give her that.”
“We’re being too obvious.”
“Does it matter? We’re practically engaged.”
She gives me an exasperated look. “You’re impossible.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
She strokes her hands up my chest, over my cut, one hand landing on the dirty patch, the other reaching around to cup the back of my neck. “I’ll bet you have.”
I lean forward, our lips barely touching. “I need to keep you safe.” There’s an urgency to my tone that she must understand because she rests her forehead against mine.
“I know.”
“So you’ll come?”
“Yes.”
I press my lips to hers instantly and kiss her with all I’ve got. Kissing isn’t my forte, but it really is like riding a bike, and when Erica pulls me closer, pressing her body against mine as I cup her ass, a thrill runs through me. I haven’t taken her in my bed yet, but I plan to. My tongue finds hers, and we’re lost for a moment, the urgency apparent as my dick presses into her and a soft moan leaves her throat.
Then someone clears their throat and says, “Eww, Mom.”
We spring apart as Erica runs a hand over her hair and attempts to straighten herself out.
I grin. “Hello, Olive.”
“Hey, Brew. Next time, could you guys get a room instead of making out in the middle of the living room?” She screws up her nose. “Gross.”
