Jagged Edge

“You tell me.” I nod at his crotch and lift a brow.

He frowns at me, then glances down at himself, and blushes.

He actually blushes. If he hadn’t pinned me like that in the shower the other night and jacked us off together, I’d swear the man is a virgin. “What?” he mutters.

“How’s it hanging?” I smirk at him, and notice the bulge in his pants growing larger.

Oh yeah, he’s definitely rocking a boner. From checking me out, or was he thinking of me as he drove over here?

That’s a heady thought, and predictably, pressure starts gathering in my balls, my dick starting to stir. That rare rush of pleasure always startles me, and I lean back against the graffiti-covered wall to recover my cool.

I know he wants me. He never pretended otherwise, never tried to hide his reaction. I get lust. When he’s looking at me like this, we’re speaking the same language. This, his hard dick, his flushed face, his arousal, I can understand. I know what to do with it.

“I just came by to see how you’re doing,” he says, jamming his hands in his pants pockets.

Too late to hide that monster erection, though.

“Ah huh. I’m fine.” Bruises are fading. Thanks to Raine’s morning offerings and a burger I managed to grab at midday, I’m stable. Simon and his men haven’t shown their faces these past few days, and I try not to think of the white powder, and of the payment due soon. Very soon. “As you can see.”

He nods, as if agreeing with me, and swallows hard. “Yeah.”

“Wanna take me home?” I ask, letting my head fall back, looking at him from under my lashes. “I can take care of you.”

“What I want,” another swallow, another sweep of that deep blue, hot gaze over me, “is to take care of you.”

He looks startled at the admission, but I barely notice, because his words strike me deep, somewhere I can’t place, making my breath hitch.

I struggle with it. “We can take care of each other, how about that?”

“Jesus, Jason, that’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

I wink at him. “But does your cock know it?”

“Ah, fucking hell.” He turns to the side and rubs a big hand over his face. I gaze at him, so handsome, so sexy. So determined not to fuck me. To make me believe he wants something else from me.

But what?

“Just tell me what you want,” I try again.

Adam is giving me a questioning look from across the street where he’s parked his ass—for a good view of us, I’ll bet. Fucking voyeur.

“Never mind,” Raine mutters. His brows are drawn together when he turns back toward me. “You’re right. I want you to come home with me.”

Okay then. “Forty for a BJ, hundred for a fuck, and…”

“And what?”

He’s watching me, and I lose my train of thought. I’m looking at his lips, and thinking that I’d totally throw in a kiss for free. Hell, I’d let him do me against the wall for free, if he decides he wants to, and fuck the consequences.

Shit.

“Here.” He fishes out his wallet from his back pocket and pulls out forty bucks. He shoves the bills at me. “Shall we get going?”

I take the money and nod, then push off the wall and start after him. I clench my fist, crushing the bills, and don’t know what my fucking problem is. He paid. I’m going to give him a BJ. Everything’s okay with the world. He’s a customer…

…and he’s not. He’s more than that.

Is that why I’m weirded out? Because I fell asleep on his sofa twice? I don’t do sex for free, that’s for sure. Earlier, that was just lust talking, no matter how beautiful he is.