Page 62 of Sassy Love
She screws up her face, rubbing hand cream into her hands, wrists, and up her arms. The tiny silky pajamas she’s wearing barely cover her chest. A sliver of her stomach is exposed. The tiny shorts only just cover her ass, leaving her long legs, currently bent as she leans over to moisturize them, to go on forever.
In my T-shirt and boxers, I feel overdressed. She turns her head, still bending over, and her hair falls around her face. While she runs the cream up and down her left leg, I have to send my mind anywhere but fucking here.
Harry’s fencing.
Mack on deployment.
Reed and Ruby’s accident.
My first apartment and the rodent problem we had...
Rotting dead rats . . .
I breathe through the heat lancing my core and sending my cock impossibly hard as she flicks her hair over her shoulder, a squall of floral and spice wafting at me.
Clearing my throat, I lie down and roll over, facing the wall on my side. “Night.”
I turn out my lamp.
She moves on the bed, then her light goes out. “Night, Lawson.”
We lie there in silence, listening to each other’s breathing, before Carlie says, “Can we keep whatever happens here between us? I don’t need the entire office knowing I was a blubbering mess over my absent father.” The last few words are weak.
That takes the wind out of my sails.
“Of course. Your secrets are safe with me, superwoman.”
She huffs a small laugh. “Thank you.”
“I meant what I said earlier, Carlie. Not everyone is out to screw you over. I’m certainly not.”
“We’ll see.”
I resist the urge to roll over and shake the paranoia out of her. Fearing everything and everyone is no way to live.
No way at all.
Trust exercise—take five.
Carlie steps onto the platform, harness and rope attached to her body. A helmet on her head, she clings to the side rails with a white-knuckle grip.
“I’ve got you, let go,” I call to her from the other side of the rope bridge. I hold the other end of her harness, the belay rope to catch her if she falls. Literally.
She shakes her head furiously.
“Mr. Lawson will keep you safe, you can step out.”
“What if he gets distracted?” she says.
“I won’t.” I reaffirm my grip on the rope.
Honestly, even if we fall from here, it’s only around six feet. Not a big deal. But by the look of terror on Carlie’s face, we may as well be six miles up.
She takes one shaky step onto the tightrope line.
“Good, now another one,” I coax.
For someone so fearless in her work life, I’m surprised to find she has a fear of heights. At least, that’s what I think it is. She takes another step and then another. “Good girl, come on.”
