Page 27 of Stains of Desire
"What else are you into besides banter?"
Why am I flirting with him?
Because he's the sexiest man on the planet.
Stop it.
"I'm into a lot of things." His eyes scan my face. "While I don't have a problem with dirt, you probably are a bit tired of it. Put my shirt on." He spins.
I remove my soiled clothes, and instead of just putting the shirt on, I throw my top in front of his feet.
He glances down and freezes.
Yep, I can play your game.
I'm imagining things again.
This is not what I should be doing.
To tease him further, I toss my shorts in front of him, too.
He says, "Can I turn back around now?"
In a teasing tone, I reply, "I don't know. Can you?"
His chest rises in a grunt. He spins.
"Is this where you tell me 'may I' would have been the correct grammatical verbiage to use?"
"Not unless you want me to be your English teacher."
"I'm always open to learning new things."
And I don't think we're talking about vocab anymore.
"Do you have a lot to learn?"
"I don't think so, but I won't be so cocky to say an old dog shouldn't learn new tricks."
"I think since you have my bio, I should have yours."
"Axel Cain. Forty-three. No wife. No kids. No girlfriend. Born in the United States. Marines at eighteen. Interpol at twenty-eight. Mom and Dad are still in Colorado. One younger brother and two older sisters who still try to boss me around even though I'm rarely home."
No wife. No kids. No girlfriend.
He's a total player.
Probably hates kids.
I'm sure he gets laid every night by a different woman.
I stay silent.
"Do you want to sit down?" He holds my folder out.
"Okay." I sit on the mattress, and he sits next to me. Everything about him is a concoction of lust overpowering me—his scent, his body heat, his voice. I take the folder and fan myself.
"I have a strange question," he asks.
