Page 5 of Devil's Haunting
After testing the wood around me and finding it as solid as I can hope for, given the situation, I’m about to use my upper body to pull myself free of the hole when the front door swings open. A light gasp cuts through the air and the creepy vibes of this place.
When my head snaps up, I’m met with a fucking vision which steals my breath and has my heart pounding in my chest for a reason that has nothing to do with falling through a wooden porch.
The woman in front of me is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. She has on shorts that should be fucking illegal, and a tank top covered in paint splatter. Her blonde hair floats around her like every strand has a mind of its own and their combined purpose is to make me need her even more.
I desperately want to wrap her hair around my fist and tug her head back as I take her mouth in a brutal kiss which leaves us both breathless and begging for more.
What the fuck is going on?
“Are you okay?”
The woman’s voice is soft and a little husky as she reaches toward me like she’s going to help me out of the literal hole that I’m in. The thought of her being hurt, of her finding another soft spot on this porch, has me seething.
“Stop,” I growl, “don’t come any closer. You will not be falling through this porch.”
She stands up to her full height, which can’t be more than 5’7”, or 5’8” on a tall day, and stares me down as if anything about her is intimidating. “No, I won’t be falling through this porch, I had already identified that soft spot and am aware of a few others around here.” She waves her hand toward the rest of the antebellum porch as if what she says doesn’t have me seeing fucking red. “But I can help you if you need it.”
“No,” I grunt as I push myself up enough to get my leg free and then stand up. I step closer to her, avoiding the hole and the surrounding wood. She doesn’t step back from me and there isn’t an ounce of fear on her face as she looks at me and something like interest sparks in her grey eyes. “Now,” I growl, my eyes raking over her, “please tell me you haven’t been sleeping in this death trap?”
The woman is unphased by the warning in my words or the hunger I know she must see in my eyes. Fucking hell, I can just make out the way her nipples pebble underneath her tank top as I shuffle a little closer.
Her eyes narrow and she crosses her arms across her chest which effectively pushes her tits up like a damn offering which has my mouth watering. “I don’t see how where I’ve been sleeping is any of your business.” She arches an eyebrow, the challenge written all over her face. “Now,” she mocks me, “do you want to tell me who the hell you are, or should I just make assumptions even though you do a damn good job of it all on your own?”
Fuck. Me.
This woman. She’s mine. My cock is a steel bar in my pants that I desperately need to reach down and adjust. I’m not sure how she would react to such a move, but the last thing I want is for her to run for the hills.
My gut is screaming at me that this isn’t the type of woman to run, but still.
After taking a deep breath, I stick my hand out between us, my voice rough with a need I’ve never felt before, “I’m called Hammer, but you will only ever call me Tripp. I’m from Devil’s Construction.”
Her grey eyes roam over my face for a moment and then her smaller hand tucks into mine and my fucking knees buckle. As my body lights up from the inside out, I would have thought I just electrocuted myself considering the sensation flowing through my body.
But I know better.
This is just as severe. Just as life changing. And no less deadly.
If I hadn’t already known, I would know now.
This woman is mine.
“I’m Laiken and this death trap, as you so eloquently put it, is now mine.”
Yeah, I’m done for this woman. She just doesn’t know it yet.
CHAPTER 3
LAIKEN
Is this asshole for real? I’m almost in disbelief that this guy is really standing on my porch while looking at me like he’s about to eat me alive and also being pissed at me because I’ve been staying at my house. Again,myhouse. Mine.
Who does this guy think he is? He can’t come in here and talk to me like I’m a child who can’t make good decisions for myself. It’s not like he found me with half of my leg through a rotten board on the porch or anything.
Not only is he looking at me with a mixture of pissed off beyond belief and pure want, but he’s the hottest man I’ve ever met. I don’t like it. Not even a little bit.
It feels like my heart is in my throat and my body isn’t entirely my own. Maybe it’s just that it’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone, and now I’m being faced with this super fucking hot guy and it’s taking me down. Is that even possible? I don’t know, butI can’t say I’m a huge fan of feeling like I don’t have control over my body.
Tripp.
