Page 15 of Dirty

It tasted like candy. Shitty candy. I lifted the glass and grinned, nonetheless. “So, where’s Alexandra?”

She took another drink, finishing her glass in one large gulp. She reached for the bottle. “She’s at some class. She’s going to two. Coping with PTSD, and another for victims of rape.”

I took a fake sip and then nodded. “I’m sure they’ll do her good. ”

She poured her glass full, took another gulp, and rested her hand on my leg. “I can’t…I just…You have no idea,” she stammered. “What you did? I’m so grateful. And, she looks up to you. You should hear how she talks about you and your friends.”

She squeezed my thigh.

I glanced at her hand and then looked at her. “It’s best to just forget about the whole thing.” I shook my head. “Let it pass.”

“The police called it a gang war. They said it was two gangs fighting over territory. Did you see that on the news?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“They have no idea.” She squeezed my leg again. “That’s good, huh?”

Her beautiful looks and tight-fitting shirt – when combined with her hand being three inches from the tip of my dick – made hiding my sexual desire difficult.

As I felt myself begin to grow rigid, her eyebrows raised. “Isn’t it?”

I realized although my cock had responded, I hadn’t. I nodded eagerly and tried to think of anything that might make the swelling go down. “Oh. Yeah. That’s good.”

I’d fought bare knuckles fights with guys twice my size, boxed golden gloves for years, was in a gang as a kid, and had been in more street fights than the entire MC combined. Furthermore, I’d accomplished all that without a single moment of feeling nervous.

Yet.

I sat at her side nervous as fuck that she was going to either notice the rapid swelling and start stroking it, or unintentionally brush against it and scream. The thought of either made me more anxious than I used to get when I was a teen.

Despite that fact that I’d fucked more women than I could come close to counting, and that I never really valued a relationship as being anything that could last beyond my typical Sunday morning departure, I wanted whatever was going to materialize between us to be different.

I pressed my back against the couch cushion and tried to gain an inch or two of room between my throbbing stick and her heavy hand.

Her fingers inched up my thigh slightly as I moved. I glanced down and then looked at her. She took a sip of wine and grinned.

I’d spent damn near ten years mentally fucking her, and now that I had a chance at the real thing, I didn’t want an unexpected swipe of her hand against the tip of my overeager Johnston to lessen my odds of success.

“Oh God.” She giggled. “I’m feeling this wine already.”

She raised her glass and wiped her forearm across her forehead.

In about two fucking seconds, you’re going to get it, lady.

I took a drink of the shitty wine, wishing the entire time it took me to choke it down that it was a beer. As beads of sweat formed on my brow, the front door swung open.

She lifted her hand from my thigh. “Hey Lex. Look who stopped by.”

I shifted my eyes from Lucy’s tits to Alexandra.

It had been a little more than a week since I’d dropped her off. I don’t really know what I expected her to look like, but the person who stood in the doorway surprised me.

Shocked was more like it.

Dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a tee shirt, she could have been anyone – but she looked different than everyone. The bruises on her face had either faded away or been covered by makeup. Her dark blonde hair was curled and most of it was twisted into a knot on top of her head.

She tossed her purse on the floor, and looked up. A few loose strands of hair dangled at the sides of her face. Her cheeks were filled out, and no longer gaunt. Her eyes gleamed, and she looked truly happy, although I seriously doubted she truly was.

Hell, how could she be?