Page 44 of The Fallen Man
Jackson could see it written all over the kid’s face. He couldn’t go home. Jackson didn’t know the reason, but it didn’t matter. He could also see that Jamal didn’t want to tell Katie because he liked Katie and wanted Katie to think he was fine.
“Nothing,” said Jamal. “A hundred?” he asked, turning to Jackson.
“Yeah,” he agreed.
“OK, cool. I mean, if they really want it, I’m not taking a beating for it or anything, but I’ll tell them to fuck off.”
“If it comes down to it, just yell for me,” said Jackson.
“Cool,” said Jamal again.
They both looked at Katie, who was frowning with a worried expression. “Be careful,” she said. “Do you have a warmer coat?”
“I’m cool, Katie,” he said, rolling his eyes.
She looked at Jackson. “He’s fine,” said Jackson, who knew damn well that Jamal did not have a warmer coat, but that Jamalwas not about to admit that.
“OK,” said Katie reluctantly.
He wasn’t sure what to make of her friendship with Jamal, and he glanced back at the kid, who was settling himself into the overhang of the basement apartment with his vape pen. Most people avoided kids like Jamal. They didn’t give a shit if they were home or had warmer clothes or not. No one looked out for kids like Jamal. Or at least, no one had looked out for him when he’d been Jamal’s age.
She led the way back to her door and unlocked it. She lived in a narrow row house. The door opened into a cramped space barely large enough to open the door and then launched immediately into a steep stairwell that led up into a converted attic apartment. He followed her up the stairs and popped through into a living area with odd ceiling angles and a skylight that probably leaked, judging from the stain on the drywall. She flipped on a floor lamp by the couch, and he looked around the room. It was crowded with furniture that seemed too good for the apartment. He wondered if she had downsized from someplace nicer.
She took off her coat, dropping it on the kitchen table, and stretched her hands up over her head. Her shape was outlined in stark contrast by the light, and he felt himself get a little hard as she flexed her and isolated her rib cage, shifting her breasts under her shirt and causing her skirt to ride up.
She walked like a dancer—back straight, shoulders back. There was a lot of pride in that posture. He looked around the apartment again. Everything was neatly decorated. She had put effort into it. It was a shitty apartment, and she’d done her best to make it a home. There was a lot of pride in that too. Katie, the bartender slash model, took care of things. In the last five years, he’d become used to women who couldn’t figure out how to get to the end of the block without assistance.
She unbuttoned the top few buttons of her shirt and rubbed her neck as she kicked off her shoes and dropped them into a basket at the top of the stairs. Jackson wanted to run his fingers along her throat, over the curve of her collar bone, and down to the swell of her breast. She looked up at him and smiled. Then she walked over to a hat rack and brought his coat back.
He looked at the coat in her hand.
“I didn’t really come for the coat,” he said.
Her head tilted to just the right angle to be kissed.
“You were thinking of something else?”
“A couple of things,” Jackson said and leaned in to kiss her. He gave it a second just in case he had misread the head tilt, but she reached out and pulled him to her.
Their lips met, and a shiver of fire ran down his spine. Katie tasted like something spicy, only he didn’t know what. He wanted to grab her and hold her tight to him, to let his hand destroy her carefully pinned hair. He wanted her naked on the damn kitchen table. He tried to slow down. Jackson wanted to make this last as long as possible. She was something sinful and perfect and better than he had any right to, and he wanted to taste every bit of her.
Caitlin
Drive Me Wild
Caitlin felt him push her skirt upward as his mouth pressed into hers and she couldn’t stop herself from letting out a little moan. It had been too long since anyone had touched her with any sort of affection and the sensation was heavenly. His hands were just the right amount of rough and smooth. And the smell of him… She leaned into his neck and licked him. He smelled of warm oranges and a hint of bergamot.
He returned the favor, nibbling her ear, and then reached up and freed her hair from its bun. Burying his fingers in her hair, he caught her by the back of the neck and turned her face up to his. She thought she probably should have found the move too aggressive, but instead, she melted against him, giving him exactly what his hands and mouth demanded. His other hand was kneading her ass, and as his tongue slipped between her lips, his hands slid underneath her panties. His palm against her ass, long fingers curling inward, taking a firm handful, was precisely what she wanted.
She tugged at his waist, trying to free his shirt so she could touch his skin and encountered something cold and hard.
“Um, yeah,” he said, pulling back. “Just a sec.”
“Right,” she said, taking a breath. “You have a gun.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “And the holster is attached to my belt. I can take it off if you want.”
He was going to take his pants off. That was great. Was that great? Shit. Did she have any condoms? She was pretty sure she’d optimistically purchased a box at some point. When had that been? Were they still good? He was looking at her as if waiting for her to say something.
