Lady Balls (Itty Bitty Delights)

“Let’s have a seat and we’ll get to it.”

She eyes me warily for a moment before she turns and walks across the room. Unconsciously, my eyes drop to the curve of her ass in her tight skirt.

I push thoughts of biting the plump globes from my mind as I follow her. She takes a seat on one end, and I sit on the opposite. It’s better we stay as far away from each other as possible. I’m already struggling with her being in my space, and her scent is driving me in-fucking-sane.

“Has something happened between you and Officer Sampton?” I ask, getting right to the point.

From her wide-eyed expression, I’ve surprised her. “Why do you ask that?”

I shift around so I’m facing her better, dropping my elbows on my knees and letting my hands dangle.

“The look he gave you today suggests there’s something more going on than him giving you a ticket.”

“Oh.” Her tongue darts out to run across her lips, and she moves her gaze across the room. “He asked me out a while back.” She brings her eyes back to me and lifts a shoulder. “I could tell he wasn’t pleased when I politely declined. I’m sure that’s why he was adamant on giving me a ticket.”

“Why didn’t you bring it up in court today?”

“Because I have no way to prove it, so it was pointless. I’m sure he’ll get over his irritation soon enough.”

My hands ball into fists between my knees, and I have an irrational need to clock Sampton across the jaw.

“Other than the ticket he gave you, has he given you any problems?”

Her brows furrow. “No,” she answers. “Why? Is there something going on?”

I shake my head. “Nothing you need to worry about. Just some recent concerns.”

I can tell she wants to ask questions, but instead she nods.

“Is that all? I should really be going.”

When she starts to rise, I reach out and grab her hand, stopping her.

“We should talk about what happened that night,” I say quietly.

She lets out a humorless laugh and tries to tug her hand from my grip, but I tighten my hold until she’s sitting back down. I let her hand go.

“No, we really shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I would prefer to forget it ever happened.”

I look over at her and the stiff way she’s sitting. “Is that possible for you?” Her eyes dart to me. “To forget? Because I have to admit, Camila, it’s all I’ve thought about since that night.”

She rubs her lips together and shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “No, but I’m trying, and talking about it again will only make it worse.”

I nod in understanding because she’s right. It would be best to just forget it ever happened, and talking about it will dredge it up. But like I told her, forgetting is simply not possible. This woman has left her mark on me as permanent as a tattoo.

Leaning back on my knees, I look into the space across the room. “You know, the only reason I let you walk out of the room that night is because I knew you needed time to process what happened. No matter how much we may want to pretend it didn’t happen, it did happen, and we need to discuss where we go from here.”

“What do you mean, you let me go?”

I turn my head toward her with her question. “I felt the moment you woke up, Camila. It took every bit of strength I possessed to let you leave that bed and not pull you back down and fuck you again.”

A cute blush pinkens her cheeks and her eyes glaze over a moment, like she’s mentally picturing me taking her again. She shakes her head and the look is gone.

“What is there to talk about? There is no we, and there’s nowhere for us to go.”