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“Are you decent?” His deep voice wraps around me like a plush blanket.
“Yes, come on in.” I quickly wipe my mouth hoping there’s no chocolate left behind, then again it was so darn sexy to have him wipe sugar from my lips and put it in his mouth. Part of me says gross, but the bigger part of me wonders what that tasted like for him. Did he enjoy it? Would he want to do it again? What if I dipped myself in body chocolate? Would he lick me clean? Heat rises to my cheeks and for the zillionth time today I’m positive I’m cherry Jell-O red.
“It’s time to lock up. Are you ready to leave?” He’s changed into shorts and a T-shirt. If my brain goes gaga over his arms, it turns to mush at the sight of his legs. Calf muscles that can crack walnuts and thighs like chiseled stone.
I stare for way too long then snap myself out of the vision of him doing push-ups over my naked body. “Sure.” I rush ahead of him, saving myself from having to watch his perfect ass walk all the way down the corridor.
He stops me with his question. “Anything you want to take home?”
A look over my shoulder shows me his sly smile. He enjoys teasing me.
“Nope, I’m good to go.” Little does he know that I already tucked a toy in my bag.
“Nothing you want to bring home to use with your boyfriend?”
I move toward the front door. “I don’t have one.”
“Good to know.” He rushes past me and of course I get eyefuls of his perfectly formed rear-end. High and tight just like I like them. It takes everything in me not to reach out and grope one globe, but I hold off. I need this job more than I need a stint in a jail cell. Besides, I don’t look good in orange or stripes for that matter.
“See you tomorrow.” I rush past him and turn toward the bus stop. A stealth escape is needed because in another minute, I’ll be begging him to take me inside and show me how some of those toys are used. It’s been a while since I’ve had sex of any kind. A year since Jake The Jerk took off with his hippie queen and my bullet vibrator. I tap the side of my bag where The Stimulator is tucked safe and sound. Tonight my neighbors can stick it.
He runs up beside me smiling and smelling like cinnamon and spice. “You need a ride?”
“No, thank you. I don’t have far to go. I’m in the Mission District.”
“The Mission District?” His face falls into a frown. “I’m giving you a ride.”
He threads his arm through mine and swings me around toward the underground garage.
“I make it home safely every day.” I’m not telling him that at times my safety is questionable, but it always seems work out. Besides, after my first paycheck, I can afford to move.
“Humor me, I’d feel better. The Mission District can be rough.” He guides me down the first row of cars and the lights flash on a 5 Series BMW. The man probably pays more for his car a month than I spend in groceries,
and his parking bill no doubt surpasses my rent.
Caine opens the passenger side door and helps me inside. It surprises me because most men didn’t do that any more. I believe in equal rights, equal pay, equal orgasms, but I still like to have my door opened and my chair pulled out. That doesn’t make me less of a feminist.
While he runs to the driver’s side I check out the interior. Clean and smelling like leather and him. He’s a chai latte with the body of a god.
He opens the door and folds his long body into the drivers seat. “Where to?” With a push of a button, the car purrs to life and he pulls out of the garage.
“Nineteenth and Lexington.”
His brows knit together and his mouth twists into a grimace. “Why are you living there?”
“It’s a long story, but the short answer is it’s affordable.” I relaxed into the soft leather seat. “It was the only place I could afford that didn’t have the chalk outlines of bodies on the floor.” I suppress a laugh.
“You’re kidding right?” He gives me a quick glance then focuses back on the road.
“Yes, I’m kidding. I used to live in the Haight-Ashbury District until my boyfriend ditched me for another woman.”
He turns onto Nineteenth Street and inches forward past the kids playing kickball in the center of the road. Their eyes glean on to the shiny black car with the chrome wheels.
“Your ex-boyfriend is an idiot. It’s obvious you’re a catch.” As we near Lexington, he slows to a near crawl. “My girlfriend ditched me for a guy in the Haight-Ashbury district. She wanted a free wheeling lifestyle.”
“She must be an idiot.” I repeat his statement about Jake. “You are obviously quite a catch.” I tuck my purse close to my body. “This is me.” I point to the tattered façade of my apartment. Much to my embarrassment, one of the pimp’s girls stands in the doorway pulling up her worn thigh high stockings. She eyes Caine and adjusts her boobs so they nearly spill out of her low-cut T-shirt. “You might want to hurry before she tries to make you her next trick.”
“Please tell me you don’t live here.”
