Page 36 of The Accident

Kayleigh shrugs, the motion nearly invisible in the tight dress. “Traffic wasn’t as bad as I thought.”

I arch an eyebrow. “You drove yourself? In that?”

She blushes, which is what I wanted. “I changed in the car after I parked,” she says, eyes darting away. “There was no walk of shame. I mean, not really,” she stammers. “Just through your lobby, but I figure your doorman’s seen everything.”

I stalk past her, headed to the wet bar, even as I speak.

“Actually, it’s funny you say that because I love when girls do the walk of shame. I don’t think it’s shameful at all, actually. It’s an homage to a night of wild fucking, hopefully with a handsome motherfucker with a big dick. So what’s so shameful about that?”

Kayleigh’s followed me into the living room, her cheeks scarlet.

“Well, I think it’s easy for guys to say, but for girls it’s a little different. We’re judged differently.”

I grin. “Well, I think we may be discussing a moot point because you’re a virgin, so you’ve never done the walk of shame. Am I right? Or have you?”

She blushes even more tomato, if that’s possible.

“No,” she says in a small whisper. “I haven’t.”

I grin again.

“That’s what a thought. So, tell me, can I offer you a drink, Kayleigh? Or are you old enough?” I jest.

She rolls her eyes, perching on the edge of the white leather sofa, knees locked together, hands clutching the little purse in her lap. “Yes, I’m old enough and I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

I pour her a scotch, but cut it with water. She’s small, and she’s probably already nervous. I don’t want to knock her out.

She accepts the glass with both hands, then sips and nearly chokes.

I watch her over the rim of my own glass, letting the silence expand. I know she hates being embarrassed like this, so I drag it out, watching the blush creep from her chest to her cheeks.

She sets the glass down, fingers trembling just a little. “So yeah, alcohol and I don’t mix that well. Well, hard alcohol at least. By the way, your place is amazing,” she manages, and gestures at the view.

“It’s a lot,” I say. “But it has its charms.”

She nods, then tries to cross her legs. The dress barely allows it, and I catch a flash of the inside of her thigh before she clamps them together again.

I move to the window, lean against the glass. I can see her reflection, the curve of her breast half exposed in the low light, her pretty pout moist. Her shoulders are tight, and the rest of her looks like she’s moments away from bolting.

“You’re not here for the view, Kayleigh,” I say, and watch as her reflection stiffens.

She swallows, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. “Why am I here then?”

I turn, cross the room in three long strides, and stop in front of her. I look down at her, arms folded, letting the moment thicken.

“Why do you think?” I say, voice low and patient.

She can’t answer. She just looks up at me, wide-eyed, her hands gripping the edge of the sofa like it’s about to tip her into open space.

I reach out and tuck a golden strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers brushing her cheek. She shivers, but doesn’t move away.

“We’re going to finish what you started this morning,” I say. “Unless you’d rather leave.”

She shakes her head.

I lean in, close enough to taste the heat off her skin, and let my hand drift down, slow and deliberate, until my fingers are on her knee.

“You look incredible, by the way,” I say, and mean it. “But you don’t have to pretend with me.”