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Her body is flawless, just as her face was, but as I knock back the last of the whiskey in my glass, my cock isn’t stirring to attention.
Must be the whiskey.
Turning, she meets my eye as her fingers grip the edge of her thong and slide it down her legs.
I scan every inch of her.
She’s perfect. No scars. No sign of a past. Just breasts too round and perky to be real, not an inch of fat on her slender, gym-honed body, and no hair anywhere but on her head.
She’s laying back on the bed when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I stare at her smooth pink pussy, and will my cock to stand to attention.
My phone vibrating isn’t helping matters, so I yank it out of my pocket, end the call, and return it without taking my gaze away from the naked woman sprawled out on my bed, legs parted.
“Baby, come here,” she purrs with practiced ease that makes me think she says it to all the guys. The last time I needed my itch scratched and couldn’t be fucked to go trawling for a girl in a bar, the last agency girl sounded just the same.
Doesn’t make a difference to me.
I toss my glass to one side. It smashes. I reach for the buttons of my shirt, my gaze on her body. It rarely takes this long to get in the mood, but with the amount of whiskey I’ve knocked back, is it any wonder I’m having difficulties?
After shrugging out of my shirt, I drop it and stalk toward her.
Female appreciation fills her eyes as her gaze sweeps over me. Her gaze pauses on the lingering bruises from the guys who made the mistake of thinking I’d be an easy mark. Three didn’t get back up again when I was through with them. The fourth ran. I followed, and let my wolf deal with him.
I’m still not hard, but with a naked woman stretched out on my bed, I soon will be.
I reach for my pants button and pop it open, but something stops me from shoving the material down my legs. The same something that’s meant I haven’t been able to focus on anything after leaving the Cerberus the night before.
Haunted eyes and scars chased me away, and followed me back to my apartment because being around anyone was impossible. So I drank.
And drank.
And drank.
After peeling myself off the floor in the morning, the drinking continued. The whiskey was tasteless, the day more boring than usual, and the woman… I scan her body, perfect but… not.
Because it’s the wrong woman.
She stares up at me with clear blue eyes, her gaze heated.
“Get out.” My voice is hard.
She blinks. “What.”
I drop my hands from my pants and take a step back. “You heard me.”
Her brow creases in confusion as she sits up. She blinks again, and the confusion clears. Sultry flirtation fills her eyes now as she gets to her knees, and a coy smile teases her lips.
“Oh, I see what this is. You think this is too easy?” She stretches a manicured hand toward my cock. “What you want is—”
I grip her wrist before she can touch me. Her gasp is sharp in the room. As she stares up at me with wide eyes, I lower my face down to hers. “Touch me, and I will break your fucking wrist.”
She blanches.
I shove her away, her body thumping against the bed. “Now get the fuck out before I throw you out.”
Fear and fury vie for dominance in her eyes, but she doesn’t move.
Smiling coldly at her, I angle my head toward the window. “I live on the twelfth floor. Have you ever wanted to fly?”
