Page 116 of Relentless

“You okay?” she asks, studying me closely as the beans grind. Twisting around, she rests her ass against the counter and temptingly crosses her arms under her breasts.

Unable to stop myself, my eyes drop and my tongue comes out to lick my lips.

She notices, of course she does. I’m pretty sure it’s the reason she stole the shirt she’s wearing.

Once upon a time, I think it was a t-shirt, but now the arms and neck have been ripped out and the skull printed across the front of the white fabric has cracked and faded. It’s not something I would ever look at twice if a guy—JD, I assume—was wearing it. But on Alana, it’s fucking sinful. The neck falls over one shoulder, exposing the swell of her tit and the arm holes are so big, every time she turns around, I get more than a flash of side boob. And that’s not mentioning how thin the fabric is; it’s practically translucent, allowing me to see the pink of her nipples beneath.

She’s doing it on purpose, I’m more than aware of it. And fuck me if it’s not working.

After she made me come in the shower, I tucked my hands under her arms and lifted her to her feet. The need to throw caution to the wind and throw everything I’ve told myself over the past five years out the window was almost too much. But I held strong, even if my dick was hard again. That sucker barely even got soft with her standing naked before me.

She wanted it. Not only did she tell me in not so many words, it was clear in her eyes.

But fucking her against the wall in the shower wasn’t going to happen.

She might have cracked my resolve, evidenced by the fact that my cum was still glistening on her chest, but I wasn’t succumbing.

Years of telling yourself you can’t have something doesn’t get shattered in a few minutes or after one incredibly intense orgasm.

So instead of giving her more, I reached for the sponge, loaded it up with shower gel, and cleaned her up.

It was nice. Really fucking nice. Especially when she turned that sponge on me and worked her way over every single inch of my body.

Shifting on the stool, I tug at my borrowed sweatpants, much to her amusement.

“You good there?”

“Perfect.” I grunt. “The coffee is done,” I point out when she continues to stand there watching me. Something tells me that her head is back in that shower with mine.

It takes a second for her to register my words and when she does, her eyes widen and she spins around, giving me another shot of her boob.

She works in silence, setting up the next mug and grabbing the creamer for her coffee before walking toward me with both mugs in her hands.

“Here,” she says, passing mine over, our fingers brushing as I take it, sending a bolt of electricity shooting up my arm.

“We need to talk,” I say, ensuring her eyes jump to mine.

She swallows nervously.

“Yeah,” she admits quietly. “I guess we do.”

She takes off toward the couches and I’m powerless but to follow.

After folding her legs beneath her, she turns to where I drop onto the other end of the couch, my eyes locked on her.

“You don’t have to tell me everything right now,” I tell her, letting her off on some of the details that I need but really don’t want to hear. “But I need to understand how you ended up here and what the hell is happening next.”

She nods, lifting her mug to her lips and blowing across the top.

“Victor blackmailed me into working for him. He knew my weakness and he used it against me to ensure I’d agree.”

“You’re weak—”

“You, Mav. He threatened you.”

My stomach drops like a rock. “What?” I gasp.

“He knows, Mav,” she whispers, making my stomach knot and my heart sink like a rock.

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