Page 90 of Executing Malice

She’s panting against my mouth, her pussy scorching hot against my crotch. “We need to stop ... this. I’m at work and...”

I kiss her harder.

I fix her against the door and devour every moan, every whimper. I hate myself for giving her pants, but I push against her and swallow back my groan when she mirrors me.

“You should have kept your toy,” I breathe into her mouth. “I could have had somuch fun with you.”

Leila laughs. “Oh, it was loads of fun for you. It was torture for me.”

I groan at the memory of her in sweet agony across the bank floor, skirt bunched up around her waist, thighs quivering. Pussy a wet, gushing mess.

“Fuck, I need to go.”

Her green eyes blink. “What?”

I set her down quickly as my brain goes wild with possibilities. “I’ll be back. Eat your lunch.”

I practically break an ankle sprinting out of the bank. My heart hammers in my chest, an excited tempo that has the biggest grin on my face as I pull my helmet down over my head and straddle my bike.

It’s too early for this gift but fuck it.

I need it.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

LEILA

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“I’ll be back.”

Two hours later and there is still no sign of him. I keep stealing peeks at the window, half expecting him to pull up into his usual spot — which is currently occupied by Lindsey Towe’s Buick — but the street is silent. With the dwindling afternoon, there are fewer people occupying the sidewalks and the flow of traffic has slowed.

I peek at the corner of my screen and check the time.

Even I will be closing up soon.

Maybe he’s waiting back at the house. I realize in this moment that I don’t have his number so I can’t even text him. Hell, I don’t even have his last name.

“What are you doing, Leila?” I mutter to myself.

Dude shows up out of the blue, moves into my walls, says he knows me from before my accident and I fall into his arms. I mean, I do believe him. There isn’t a bone in my body refuting anything he’s said, but I do question my own mental stability accepting it without a shred of research.

So, I pull out my phone.

I’m not entirely sure what I’m supposed to look up when I still have next to no information, but I type in Alia Rivers. It’s a unique enough name that I should hopefully pull up something.

But no sooner have I typed the ... my name in when the door swings open, sending the bells over it wild. The soft tinkle sends my heart fluttering with excitement even before I lift my gaze to the figure ambling up to the counter.

My heart sinks.

Dolores with her entourage clatter across my floors. She has Mavis Underhill and Irene with her this time, and I have to wonder what it is these women do all day. I know they all have families, yet they are forever in everyone else’s business.

“Ladies.” I slap on my smile. “Making a deposit?”

The sour pinch in Dolores’s thin lips is a clear indicator that that is not at all why they’ve chosen to darken my counter.

“Leila Weir, can you explain to me what it is I’m hearing through the grapevines?”