Page 38

Lauren

I stared down at the message in disbelief. I’d asked for space, and Junior’s response was to try to pay for more of my time.

“Open it,” Taylor said, looking over my shoulder.

“I don’t want to.”

“What happened?” Ryan asked, perking up from where they’d been half asleep on my other side. It was after midnight, and we were binge-watching more reality TV to unwind from a long day of filming and editing, Walter asleep in his doggie bed nearby.

“Junior sent me another request,” I said.

“I’m with Taylor on this one,” Ryan said. “You should open it, at least to see what he wants.”

My thumb hesitated over the screen. Asking for space hadn’t been easy, especially because I couldn’t stop thinking about the way Junior and I had defiled that confessional booth.

I’d spent the rest of the day turned on, and batch-filming content when I’d gotten home hadn’t diminished my desire.

Even now, over a week later, the memory of him barely pushing into me had every drop of moisture in my body moving south for the winter.

The sound of his breaths near my ear. The feel of his lips on my neck and his hand at my throat. Fuck, I wanted it again.

Which was why I knew that opening his message was a Bad Idea.

I didn’t trust myself to tell him no. I’d either use the cash he offered or the opportunity to finally get answers out of him as an excuse to meet up again.

And then we’d probably have full-blown , p-in - the -v sex and my mind would be so blissed out from dick that I’d forget all about the tracker and stalking and everything else he might have done that I didn’t know about.

“Oops,” Taylor said, tapping my screen and taking the decision out of my hands.

The first thing listed in PPV requests was always the price, and my eyes bugged out at the sight of it.

“Ten grand?” Taylor hissed, scooting closer.

Ryan pressed against my other side. “To do what? Kill someone?”

“Come to my cousin’s barbecue,” Taylor read. She looked up at me in confusion. “Is that a euphemism?”

“I have no idea,” I said.

Ryan pulled up their phone and started searching. “I don’t see anything about it being one.”

“Wait,” Taylor said. “Scroll down.” She slid her finger over my screen and then read Junior’s message aloud. “I’m not ashamed of you, Lo. Give me a chance to prove it.”

Uh-oh . I could already feel myself starting to cave, willing to hear him out.

I shoved the phone at Ryan like it was a bomb. “Hit deny. I can’t do it myself.”

They took it, eyeing me. “Are you sure?”

I nodded. “I asked for time, and instead of honoring that, he’s pushing for more access to me. That makes red flag number...eight? Nine? He needs to start learning how to respect my boundaries.”

Ryan hit deny.

A knock sounded on our front door.

Walter leapt out of his bed and ran for it, barking his head off.

No. Fucking. Way.

“Weapons,” Ryan said, our standard response to anyone at our door after midnight.

They went scrambling off the couch while I beelined toward Walter. He was barking so loud that even with the insulation, I was worried he would wake our neighbors.

I grabbed the baseball bat we kept propped by the coat rack and ducked, trying to soothe him into silence. “It’s okay, bud.”

It took a minute, but eventually his barks dropped into a low, steady growling.

Standing, I carefully looked through the peephole.

Junior was right on the other side of it, wearing his riding gear, helmet dangling from his fingers, hair mussed from wearing it.

His jacket was unzipped, revealing a black T-shirt pulled tight across his pecs.

My nipples hardened at the sight of him, and warmth bloomed in my core.

This was what I got for spending so much time on BikeTok.

Junior suddenly made it worse by running his hand through his hair, his shirt creeping up just enough to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of lower abs.

I nearly walked through the closed door trying to get to him, but the sound of my roommates rushing toward me stopped me just in time.

I turned to see Ryan holding a can of mace and a taser.

Beside them, Taylor clutched the largest, floppiest of her dildos.

Ryan looked over at it agape. “What are you planning to do with that?”

“ Dick-whip him,” Taylor said.

“That’s not going to do anything but make him laugh.”

“Oh, really?” She flicked her wrist, slapping Ryan across the thigh with it.

Ryan howled and clutched their leg, dancing away.

Junior pounded on the door. “Lauren? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I called over Walter’s renewed barking. “What do you want?”

“To talk,” he yelled.

“Shut up!” someone shouted from outside, likely one of our neighbors hanging out a door or window. Great.

“Ryan,” I said. “Come hold Walter.”

They limped over, shooting a glare at Taylor on the way, and grabbed Walter’s collar.

I cracked the door. “You have serious boundary issues.”

Junior smiled, devilishly handsome in the dim light. “Let me in and I’ll show you just how bad they are.”

I fought a shiver, refusing to be turned on by that comment. “My roommates are both holding weapons.” Sort of. “And Walter doesn’t like strange men.”

“Good boy,” he said.

“Walter is a girl!” Taylor yelled past me for some fucking reason.

Junior’s smile widened, eyes boring into mine, and I realized what she’d done. Oh, no. He parted his lips and dropped his voice into a bass growl. “Good girl.”

Behind me, Taylor let out a sound like a dying whale, clearly overwhelmed by her praise kink.

“You’re still not coming in,” I said, hating how breathless I sounded.

Junior stepped back on our stoop. “Then why don’t you come out here, and your friends can keep an eye on you from inside.”

I studied him for a moment. Maybe this was a good thing. Maybe I could get my answers and, if I didn’t like them, tell him to get lost, and this would be the end of it between us. For good, this time.

I turned toward my roommates. “If I suddenly crawl into his lap, please come grab me before I get charged with indecent exposure.”

Taylor grinned. “No promises. Rap sheets are hot.”

Ryan shook their head. “Ignore her. We’ll obviously stop you.”

I handed the baseball bat to them, gave Walter a grateful pat, and slipped outside.

Junior was leaning against the stoop railing with his legs crossed at the ankle, the streetlights casting his face in sharp angles.

God, that jawline was next level. And his cheekbones.

There were models who would kill for them.

It was like he’d gotten all of his parents’ best features.

Mom’s eyes, father’s full lips and strong brows.

The way they were put together was devastating, always drew my gaze, always had me hoping he’d gift me with a rare smile because of how it transformed his expression from cold and unapproachable to warm and intimate, just for me.

There were no smiles tonight. Instead, he watched me with a heat in his eyes that had me stopping just outside the door because I didn’t trust myself to get any closer.

I’ve been inside you , that look said. I’ve felt you come around the head of my cock.

And if you think that was the last time I’ll ever wrap my fingers around your throat, you’re out of your goddamn mind.

He pushed off the railing. “Keep looking at me like that and see if I don’t fuck you right here on these steps.”

A muffled whimper came from behind me that sounded more like Taylor than Walter, followed by a shushing noise. I loved my roommates, but did they need to hear every word that was about to come out of our mouths? Probably not.

“Let’s sit,” I said, careful to keep my distance as I walked past Junior. The man had a way of grabbing me that had turned me skittish.

We took the steps down to the sidewalk and sat on the bottom one. Thankfully, they were wide enough that we weren’t touching. The smell of leather and cologne brought me right back to the confessional, and the last thing I needed was to feel the heat rolling off Junior’s body.

Even looking at him was a problem, so I fixed my gaze across the street, where his bike was parked. “Do you live in the neighborhood?”

“No,” he said, voice low and rough, and, god, I was so fucked if even the sound of it was enough to make me shiver. “I just come here sometimes to check up on you.”

“How did you even know where I live?”

“I’ve kept tabs on you over the years,” he said.

Part of me relaxed a little at the confession. I’d been expecting an argument, was ready to pry information out of him bit by bit, because he’d always been such a closed book, but him offering it up so freely was a nice surprise. “And the tracker? How long has it been in my purse?”

“Only since our first run-in at church.”

I nodded. That made sense. I’d been so distracted when he pinned me to the wall that he would’ve had plenty of time to plant it on me.

“Don’t do that again,” I told him.

“I won’t put any more trackers on you,” he said.

Well, this was going better than I’d hoped. Time to rip off the Band-Aid. “Did you slash a bunch of old women’s tires just because they were mean to me?”

He smirked. “I heard the tires slashed themselves.”

“Oh my god, you did, didn’t you?”

He looked unrepentant. “Let it be their only warning.”

I reared back. “What are you going to do if they’re mean to me again? Burn their houses down?”

“I would never,” he said, the world’s most untrustworthy smile spreading over his face.

“Really? Because your grin is psychotic.”

He smoothed it out, letting the facade of the reformed mobster slide back into place like a second skin. “I don’t think it’ll come to that.”