Page 105 of Yearn

“Just helping him to his car.”

Then gone.

Vanished into the night.

No more Scott.

But the fantasy was just that—for now.

Because Jerry was still fucking there, standing up now, tying off the plastic bag with excruciating slowness.

The dog tugged at the leash, sniffing around as if it planned to take a second shit just to spite me.

Scott turned back to me.

My blood roared in my ears.

He glared at me. “Who are you, and why are you opening the door tomyhouse?”

I straightened to my full height, making sure he knew that I was not only towering over him, but much bigger in size. “I’m the tenant who lives downstairs.”

His eyes flicked over me, sneering at my scrubs, my damp forearms from the dishes, the way I blocked the warm light spilling from the kitchen. “Then. . .why aren’t you downstairs?”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

He shoved his shoulder into the door.

I made it a bit harder for him to get in and then stepped aside, hoping that I’d bruised his side a little.

With a grunt, he stepped inside like he owned the air. The papers in his hand flashed official and hostile. “Teyonah! Teyonah!”

His voice ripped through the house, through me.

Something old and animal snarled.

“She’s putting the kids to sleep.” I stepped between him and the stairs without touching him.

Still, the asshole yelled. “Teyonah, what the hell is going on around here?! Teyonah?!”

My pulse hammered in my hands.

I wanted to break his nose just to make the sound stop.

I wanted to drive his head through the wall and watch him bleed down my knuckles.

I wanted to make him apologize to the floorboards for walking on them.

I wanted a hundred things that would ruin everything for Teyonah—yet feed the bloodlust clawing up my throat.

Hurried footsteps sounded above.

And then her voice came. “Scott, what the hell are you doing here?”

I turned.

My knees nearly buckled.

Teyonah stood at the top of the stairs now in a new pair of red silk pajamas that clung like sin. A low V-neckline revealed just enough curve to make my cock ache, and the fabric shimmered like it was spun out of hellfire itself.