Page 162 of Free Me (Free 1)
“I love this view.” Desire pierced me as he gazed into my eyes.
I sank onto him, and his cock twitched. “You’re close.”
“You feel me,” he surmised, his initial surprise quickly morphing into knowing. “Touch your clit, Bright Side. I want you with me.”
I hung onto him with one hand and touched myself with the other. A shock shot out from the bundle of nerves as I pressed my fingers against it. Andrew did all the work, lifting and lowering me as I rubbed at a matching speed.
“Mark me,” I demanded when we were both a toe over the ledge.
He shouted my name as he came. His face contorted in pure pleasure.
I can see him. No darkness. Just him. And he’s beautiful.
The sight of him triggered my climax. I trembled with the force of it, clinging to him with all my strength.
When I began to feel some semblance of reality, I realized we were both breathing heavily in unison. I didn’t want to move.Thiswas how I wanted to feel the rest of my life.
He nuzzled my nose, his eyes bright and clear. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” I said, brushing my lips against him. And then a giggle escaped me.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’m happy.” I closed my eyes. “You’ve set me free.”
I wasn’t delusional enough to believe that he’d fixed the past, but he’d definitely helped me heal. This wouldn’t have worked with just anyone. I needed Andrew.
I laughed again and hugged him tightly. He was warm, solid, safe. And somehow, I’d managed to find him. Or really, he’d found me.
We were free.
Chapter Forty-Five
Trish
“I should have you arrested.”
Turned out, my investigative skills weren’t nearly as good as Andrew’s. He’d found the information I wanted. And I’d gotten caught on purpose.
“Mr. Hardaway, we’re in a public place. You can’t have me arrested.”
“You followed me. That’s illegal.” He pressed his lips together and stabbed his hands into his pockets as he emerged from the alley.
I lifted my chin in the direction from which he’d come. “Who is she?”
His features twisted in pain. “None of your damn business.”
“I heard you singing,” I pressed. “You laughed.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said indignantly.
“Who is she?” I asked again.
Andrew had followed Mr. Hardaway to this spot a few days ago. He’d spent an hour in the alley with a woman who appeared to be homeless before heading to an apartment building not far from where I parked my food truck on Park.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re nosy?” He brushed past me on a mission down the sidewalk.
I jogged to catch up to him. “I don’t think so.”
