Page 7 of The Landlord
He smells incredible, but he feels even better.
I pull back just enough to meet his eyes, and the intensity I find there steals what little breath I have left. His gray eyes are dark, focused entirely on my face with an expression I can't quite read but that makes butterflies flutter in my belly and my pulse race.
We're so close I can see the flecks of silver in his irises, can feel his breath against my lips. His gaze drops to my mouth for just a moment before returning to my eyes.
Oh no. I'm in big trouble.
3
DAMIEN
She's wrapped around me like a vine, her legs locked at my back, her arms around my neck. The suddenness of it knocks the breath out of me. For a split second, I freeze, my hands instinctively gripping her thighs to steady her. Her face is inches from mine, those blue eyes wide with something between panic and wait, is that desire?
Doug's nails click against the floor as he disappears deeper into Alyssa's apartment, but I can barely focus on that now. Not with her soft body pressed against mine, the heat of her pussy against my stomach.
I clear my throat. "Doug won't hurt anything. He's just exploring."
"He hates me," she whispers, still clinging to me.
"He doesn't hate you." I adjust my grip on her thighs, trying not to think about how perfect they feel under my hands. "He's just protective. I need to show him you're a friend."
A friend. Right. Because friends hold each other like this, pressed so tight you can feel each heartbeat.
"What do you mean?" Her breath fans against my face.
"Dogs are pack animals. If he sees me accepting you, he'll follow suit."
She blinks, processing this. "So you have to ... what? Pet me?"
Christ. The image that flashes through my mind makes my cock twitch against the zipper of my jeans.
"Not exactly. Just ... be around you. Show him we're comfortable with each other."
Her arms loosen slightly around my neck, but she doesn't let go. "So I should stop hanging off you like a monkey?"
The corner of my mouth twitches. "Probably not the worst idea."
I expect her to disentangle herself immediately, but she hesitates, her eyes dropping to my mouth for just a moment before she slides down. The friction of her body against mine sends a jolt of electricity straight to my groin. I grit my teeth, fighting for control.
"Sorry." She straightens her sweater once her feet touch the floor. "I panicked."
"It's fine." It's far from fine. I'm suddenly very aware of how small the hallway is, how close we're standing, how she smells like vanilla and something warmer, spicier. "Let's go find Doug before he nests in your yarn."
The mention of her precious materials gets her moving. She turns and hurries back into her apartment, and I follow, shutting the door behind us.
Doug is sitting on the couch, looking smug, a ball of blue yarn between his paws.
"Doug," I say. "Leave it."
To my surprise, he does, tilting his head as if to say, "But I was just getting started."
Alyssa hovers near me, watching the dog warily. "What now?"
"Now we show him we're comfortable with each other." I gesture to the couch. "Sit with me."
She hesitates, then perches on the edge of the cushion, as far from Doug as possible. I sit beside her, close enough that our thighs touch. Even through the fabric of our pants, the contact sends heat coursing through me.
"Relax," I say, though I'm anything but relaxed myself. "He can sense fear."
