Page 24 of The Break Down

Mine.

The word blazes through my mind before I can stop it.

And that’s all it takes.

My legs are already moving. I cut across the lot, heading toward the shed near the vending machines.

Because I know her. I’ve watched her.

I’ve seen the way she lights up at the mention of anything sweet.

The way her verdant eyes sparkle when she sees a pack of Starburst or a bag of M&Ms like they’re gold.

Of course she’s out here for a snack.

It’s cute. Adorable, even.

And fucking dangerous.

I’m gonna scare some goddamn sense into her.

But that plan goes up in flames the second I lay eyes on her.

She’s backlit by the vending machine glow, head tilted, hair atop her head, lips slightly parted as she debates between chips or candy.

She’s wearing a fresh tank top and shorts. Soft cotton, clinging in all the right places.

Pajamas, maybe. Or a cruel joke from the universe.

My cock throbs, hot and heavy.

My mouth actually waters.

I grip one of the ceiling beams inside the shed, tensing as she nears.

She looks up, our eyes lock—and everything in me goes still.

“Jesus. Give a girl a warning next time, would you?”

What follows is some more banter like we exchanged earlier. All flirtation and teasing, probably.

I can barely hear it over the roar of blood in my ears.

She’s so damn tempting. So sexy and sweet.

Next thing I know, I’m moving.

I’m stepping into her space, caging her against my body like a man possessed.

And then I do the one thing I told myself I wouldn’t.

I kiss her.

Hard. Desperate. Starving.

Her lips are soft but demanding, and when she kisses me back—when she makes that little sound in her throat—my dick leaks precum into my shorts like a fucking teenager.

I’m so hard it’s painful, and I haven’t even touched her skin yet.

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