Page 11 of Studfinder

Then Rita had to be here, and my thoughts have gone to hell, reminding me I almost kissed her earlier. Fuck.

“Rita,” I call out one more time as I near her table where she’s grabbing her coat. Whoever her friend was, she left with her baby. Rita doesn’t respond to her name but moves forward as if not hearing me. She’s ignoring me.

My eyes drift to Louisa, awaiting my return to the table. Despite my eagerness to fuck someone and rid my thoughts of Rita, Louisa’s slow smile does nothing to quell all thoughts of Rita. I turn my attention toward the front door. My head tells me to forget her. My body warns me this is a mistake. I cannot be interested in Rita Kaplan. She’s the supervisor where I work. Where I work because I’m on parole from prison.

She’s also an attorney, which means she’s smart, and she wouldn’t want to be mixed up with a dumbass criminal like me. She’s also so freaking cute, and regardless of what I said, I’m attracted to her. I love that her hair shows her age, and her smile says she doesn’t care about such a thing. I love those quirky, bright glasses although I can’t always see her eyes, which are bright and kind behind her glares. I love her sass while I hate her know-it-all attitude.

Her reaction to that small spark earlier tells me there’s a story behind her power suit and hiking boot veneer. She’s afraid of fire, and that detail adds to the list of she shouldn’t be my type. She isn’t going to want an arsonist, even if the accusation is false.

Still, I’m drawn to Rita, and I can’t pull my gaze from the door she’s disappeared behind. Glancing back at Louisa, I hold up my finger, indicating I need a minute. Then I stalk off after Rita.

“Rita!” I holler as I enter the dark parking lot. Her petite legs work fast, so I break into a jog to catch up to her. “Rita, wait.”

Drawing near, I reach forward to cup her elbow and tug. She’s forced to turn and face me, but her eyes avoid mine.

“What?” While her hip juts to the side, she gives me the side of her face, staring off into the distance.

“I’m sorry. That was . . . that was uncalled for.” She’s a recovering alcoholic, and it was insensitive of me to imply she should join me and my date for a drink.

Fuck. I am so fucking this up with both women, yet the only woman I want to make this right with is the one before me.

I don’t like how Rita isn’t looking at me. She isn’t giving me that glare she gives through those glasses. She isn’t huffing in my face. Her mouth isn’t close like it was earlier. Her cheek isn’t gently rubbing against mine. Her entire demeanor dismisses me. Isn’t that how I knew she’d be? Yeah, I know her type, too, and it isn’t me.

Removing my hand from her elbow, I hold it up high, surrendering to her. “Fine.”

“Fine.” Her neck quickly twists so she looks at me. “That’s all you have to say?”

“I just apologized. What more do you want?”

Her chest heaves like it did earlier today. Those damn glasses are reflecting the lamplight in the lot, and I can’t see her eyes. I want to see her eyes.

“Nothing,” she replies, shaking her head. “Absolutely nothing.” Her gaze lowers to her feet, and she kicks at the gravel surface.

“Your boots are okay, Rita. They look good with your outfit,” I lie. “You rock the Working Women vibe, all power savage and determined to take on the world.”

“Now, you’re just being cruel.” Her head pops back up, and I just know she’s giving me that glare. I can feel it, just like I felt her watching me during that first AA meeting, wondering who I am. If only I had that answer. The glare is a flame lighting something inside me I don’t recognize, can’t seem to control, and don’t know if I want to.

Dammit, Rita.

“No, sweet. This would be cruel.” I cup her cheeks and drag her to me, meeting her in the middle of the space between us. Then I crush her mouth with mine, sucking at those pouty lips. This is cruelty because I want this woman when I shouldn’t. Her sass. Her attitude. Her trust. I want it.

The second she responds, meeting my lip’s lead with her own, my tongue joins the torture, sweeping into her mouth and tangling with hers. I haven’t kissed someone in seven years—seven long fucking years—and she tastes so good, like freedom, and futures, and faith. This feeling is more than an irritating itch that needs a good scratch. This is Rita. I don’t know what it is about her, but I want her nails to dig in and her heart to open.

Then reality hits me. What am I doing? Just as quickly as I started down the slippery slope of desire, I pull back. Rita follows me, leaning into the space I put between us, chasing that kiss. Her eyes remain closed for a second as her lips seek mine, and I’ve crossed a line again.

“Fuck. I’m sorry, Rita.” Her lids flip open, and she stares at me. I should not have kissed her. Every part of my being screams, I should not have kissed her!

“I’m so sorry,” I repeat in a whisper, releasing her face like she’s scorched my skin and turning away from her once again.

“Rough night?” my brother asks. Nolan has no idea. Then again, as I glance over at him in his wheelchair, I imagine he does.

“Fuck, man. I fucked up.” I toss my head back on the couch in the house we share. It’s the same home where we grew up and inherited at our mother’s passing. The small house had a mortgage on it when my father left, and we were still little kids. My mother worked night and day to pay what she could, so we’d have a safe place to live, as she called it. I’d worked construction jobs as young as I could to help out, and we eventually paid it off. She died one night on a snowy mountain road.

“How was your date?” Nolan’s voice matches the wiggle of his brow. My brother is a horny bastard. It’s how he got in trouble when he was sixteen and ended up a father too young. Now, he doesn’t date. Losing sensation in the lower half of his body from a back injury has curtailed his extracurricular activities. Still, he’s a horndog.

“It went to hell.” Louisa deserved an explanation after I chased Rita, but I didn’t tell her that I’d kissed my supervisor, the woman who could make or break my probation assignment. Louisa didn’t know that my employment is actually a restorative program from prison. Instead, I explained that Rita was my boss and I’d forgotten to tell her something at work. The thing I actually had not forgotten, though, was my desire to kiss Rita.

I don’t know why I did it.