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“You’re using Weasel to see me?” I could almost laugh. Out of anything she could have said, this one seems the most absurd.
“Does that surprise you?” she asks. I search her face for an indication that she’s lying. I don’t find any, but then again, I never saw the signs that Millie was lying either.
“Kitten, if you want my dick, you just have to say so.”
“Kitten,” she murmurs. “That’s cute, but I’m more of a tiger,” she laughs. “I like to use my claws.”
“Are you going to try to sink them into me?”
“I never try anything. I just do it.”
I grin. She’s different from any woman I’ve met. Then again, I’ve always had a thing for the kind of woman who needed a man. I get the feeling this woman in front of me depends on no one but herself and I have to admit, right now I’m finding that sexy as hell.
“What’s your name?”
“Whatever you want to call me tonight,” she practically purrs.
“You don’t think Weasel will object to that?”
“That’s disappointing,” she says with the sweetest sigh, and instantly I want to hear it again.
“What’s that?” I croak out. My throat is dry and I’m straining it by talking so much—and trying to make it sound as normal as possible. I wait for her to react to my voice, but she doesn’t even flinch. Does it really not bother her?
“I thought you were a real man, not a boy playing as one. Someone afraid of what his buddy will do because he can’t keep a girl interested,” she pouts.
If it didn’t hurt, I’d laugh. “I look scared?”
“You look delicious.”
“C’mon,” I order, and begin walking toward my bike.
She doesn’t immediately follow me. For my part, I don’t stop. I’m not staying either way. I find myself hoping like hell she trots her fine ass over here and makes my night a fuck of a lot better. Straddling my bike, I look at her, silently daring her to follow me. She seems to think it over. Just as I’m sure she’s going to back down, she struts over to me like she owns the world. When her hand comes down on my shoulder, I swear the heat from her hold brands me. A lesser man would feel his fucking legs go limp.
“Where are we going, Ghost?”
“Did you know my name or read it on my cut?” I ask, my voice tight, but I somehow manage to keep from coughing.
“Baby, you’d be surprised at how much I know about you. You're the only reason I'm in that place.”
“Does Weasel know that?” I ask, enjoying the conversation despite my limitations. I’m barely whispering to her now, but that doesn’t seem to bother her a bit. If anything, her voice has become silkier.
“Other than getting some information from him about you, the most I’ve done is kiss him. So, if you have hangups or worry if you can measure up going where your brother has been, you’re safe.”
I grunt in response.
“Your place or mine?” she asks. I shake my head. She’s so fucking different from the women I’ve dealt with before, and it has me reeling. It’s not a bad thing, though. My dick is hard as a rock, and that hasn’t happened this easily since I read Millie’s letter.
“Yours,” I answer. She gives me directions and I head that way. My night is looking better and better by the second.
Chapter 4
Lennox
Ghost pulls into the drive of my rental and shuts off his bike. I rent an apartment over a coffee shop. In the alley, there's a cemented driveway, and nearby stairs lead to a small wooden porch. That’s me. It’s quiet, in the middle of town, and cheap. I’m not a big fan of this city, but I have a job to do here. This place is central to every place I need to keep an eye on. It doesn’t hurt living where I’m only able to be seen in a dimly lit alley. Actually, it comes in handy.
My date for the night hasn’t said a word since I gave him directions to my place. It’s cool. I didn’t really expect him to. It’s clear he has trouble speaking. I can tell it annoys him. It doesn’t bother me in the least. He’s a mark, so it wouldn’t matter either way. In a weird way, I find it sexy. In fact, Ghost is hot as fuck. It won’t be a hardship to spend some time with him, that’s for damn sure.
It’s been a while since I’ve had a man in my bed. I’m not big on sharing my space with someone else—like at all. Still, let’s be honest, I’m in my thirties and I have needs that aren’t always met by a battery-operated boyfriend. I’m praying Ghost delivers orgasms half as good as he looks like he can. Besides, if I’m going to be forced to spend time with him for the next month, I need something out of it.
