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“Well, first lesson was read the fine print on any contract and do not take anyone’s word for what it says.” I clear my throat, weaving my fingers together and settling them over my stomach.
I’m wearing my bikini bottoms, and Chance tore up one of his white t-shirts to fashion this sort of crude halter top, which makes me feel a little like we’re in a modern retelling of Tarzan and Jane.
“Anyway, so, I signed my first lease. The broker told me the monthly cost and that there were no other fees I’d have to pay.” I make a low, horn blowing sound which makes him smile, then finish, “He lied. There were a ton of other costs. Basically, the monthly rent was half of what it ended up costing. I fucking hate liars. Did I mention that? Hate them. There’s nothing lower than someone that can’t just tell the truth. I mean, you learn that in fucking kindergarten, right?”
He nods, releasing one hand from my foot and running the pads of his fingers up the side of my calf, leaving goosebumps in a trail wherever he touches.
“What’s his name?” His voice lowers, there’s a new tension in his brow.
“Who? The broker guy?”
“Yeah, the broker guy.” He growls. “ What’s his name. I want to look him up.”
“He’s…” I screw up my lips, wondering how to explain. “He’s sort of not alive anymore. I’m not sure what happened. A month after I signed the lease, I found out he was under investigation for fraud and a week later, they found him in an alley. He’d jumped from a five-story window. Landed on a dumpster, then face down on the pavement.”
“I see.” He seems satisfied with that, so I leave off the part about the building where he jumped being the location of one of my brother Cyrus’s weekly poker games.
Coincidence? Probably not. But when it comes to Tor and Cyrus’s protective instincts, I’ve learned not to ask about things I don’t really want to know.
Chance goes back to asking all about my business. Over the next two hours, he coaxes so many details about Amalfi’s out of me, even I’m sick of talking about it.
He’s worked both my feet, and my calves, and it’s been more than incredible, but watching his hard-on grow and strain against the fabric of his boxers has been more than distracting.
I turn things around and ask him about his life. It’s strange how sad it makes me to learn he has no real family. Mine is so loud and incestuously involved in my life, it’s hard to imagine what it would be like if they weren’t around.
He shows little emotion about it all, though. Even the parts that make me wince when I ask about his time in the service. I know he barely scrapes the top of the iceberg in what he shares, but listening to him talk about his past helps me see beyond the rough exterior. It makes sense of the things he said about why he’d never pursued romance or sex before.
Good feelings made him uncomfortable.
If his hard-on and the smile on his face are any indication, things have changed.
Same, big man.
Same.
Chapter Eight
Chance
Iwatch Sophia pacing around the corners of the room, holding her phone as high in the air as it will go and teasing me with glimpses up beneath the hem of the shirt I lent her as she tries to get a decent signal.
It’s our second morning together, and the soft gray light fills the room. The muffled chattering of the birds and the rush of the surf is our symphony outside.
We’ve christened every surface in the house and most of the walls. I’ve bathed her in my seed and slept with my cock inside her, waking her every few hours to fill her again until she passed out from exhaustion.
We swam and talked. Ate and fucked. She sucked my cock like I gave her a tutorial, and her pussy owns me already. I’ve never felt as at home with anyone, anywhere, as I do with her. She’s magic, and I can never let her leave.
The time has gone too fast, and I know reality is going to come calling.
Her face is creased with concern, and I get it, she thinks her friends will be worried about her. Normally I get good signal here, but the storm must have knocked out the mast the phone company put in at the top of the hill, and who knows when they’ll get to this remote area to fix it.
I can still taste her on my tongue from earlier, her scent drifting to my nostrils, driving me wild.
“Nothing,” she says, sounding frustrated. “Any second I’m going to… Damn it!” She huffs, her shoulders slumping as she looks defeated. “That’s it, the battery’s dead.”
She looks over at me with those pleading eyes, and shit, yeah, I feel guilty. But it’s this or let her leave. Let her go back to her friends, probably out of my life, thinking this was nothing more than a holiday fucking fling.
“Are you on anything?” I blurt out, realizing I forgot to confirm that important detail.
