Charlie made a face, muttering, “Gross” but it wasn’t entirely convincing. “Can we get back on point, please?”
“Is that why Davonte is after you?” I asked, refusing to let it go.
“He doesn’t know that,” Charlie said stiffly. “That’s my personal business. It’s not like I tattooed it on my forehead.” She hesitated, then asked, “Why’d you do that?”
“Eat you like a juicy fruit?”
She nodded with a blush.
“I…hell, I don’t know. I guess if I’m going down, I might as well burn the house down as I go.”
Charlie flushed again at the words going down.
Damn, she was hot.
Collecting herself, she cleared her throat and declared that wasn’t happening again.
“Well, I’d appreciate it if we kept our relationship professional. No more…” she gestured to my mouth “of that.”
That was a tragedy. Charlie tasted like heaven, pineapples, pie and woman — the hottest combination I’d ever had in my mouth.
But I wasn’t going to force myself on her.
If she didn’t want my touch, so be it.
I grunted in agreement, getting back on topic before I could get pissed off by her rejection.
“If he didn’t know about your virginity…I don’t know why he’s so hard up over you. If we could figure out what makes him tick, maybe we could use it against him.”
“He’s a lunatic. I don’t try to puzzle out the actions of people like Davonte. I’ll never understand men like him. Or you, for that matter.”
To be lumped up with Davonte…yeah, that rubbed me wrong. Just a week ago, I might’ve been flattered. Now, it pissed me off.
“Lady, you’ve got a funny way of getting people to take your side.” I sat up. “I’m nothing like Davonte.”
“You’re a fighter, you bash people’s heads in for a living. Davonte manipulates people and destroys lives. You don’t see the similarity?”
“Not a fighter anymore,” I said, the words tasting bitter.
“Why not?”
“Shoulder injury.”
“And so they just cut you loose.”
“Pretty much.”
Her look of disgust wasn’t unexpected. “And these are the people you choose to hang with?”
“I don’t hang with no one.”
“Ah, lone wolf syndrome,” Charlie said dryly, leaning against the door jamb. She let out a long sigh. “Okay, so let’s just say for argument’s sake, I’m willing to work with you, what are you suggesting?”
I didn’t have a plan. I just didn’t want to die. At least not today and not by Davonte’s hand.
She looked at me like I was a big, dumb, sack of flour.
Maybe she was right.
“Look, I have an idea and if it works, we can not only walk away from all this but we can take down Davonte, too.”
That got my attention. “I’m listening.”
“Davonte owns The Underground because he’s got the money to own people’s lives but no one likes him. He’s a tyrant and he’s ruined more lives than he’s boosted but no one seems to have the balls to figure that out and do something about it.”
“That’s the power of money,” I said, shrugging. “So far, you’re just telling me shit I already know.”
“What if he didn’t have the money anymore?” she supposed slyly, finishing with a hard smile. “Then, he wouldn’t have the power.”
“Fuck, girl. I thought you had a real plan. Steal Davonte’s money? Are you fucking nuts? Shit…that’s a suicide plan. If I was going to do something so stupid, I’d just shoot the motherfucker and take my chances.”
“I’m not opposed to that plan,” Charlie said with a shrug. “You’d be doing the world a favor.”
I rose, freshly irritated. “I need to fucking eat and take a shower. If I go all day with the smell of your pussy under my nose…your virginity will be a thing of the past.”
I wasn’t lying. Every fresh whiff made my cock harden just a little more and right now, I needed to focus on living, not fucking.
Charlie flushed and chewed her lip, flustered. “Ummm…okay, yeah. You can use my shower. I’ll put something together for us to eat.”
And then she shot past me like a rabbit trying to evade a predator.
That’s right…run little girl, ‘cuz I already know you’re good enough to eat.
And I’m fucking hunnnngry.
Chapter 12
Charlie
Maybe my plan was rooted in a fairytale but that was the thing when you were running on desperation and revenge…pretty much all logic and reason flew out the window.
I just wanted to hurt Davonte and the only way to hurt that man was to target the source of his happiness.
Money.
The sound of my shower reminded me that I’d offered to feed that hulking beast.
I deliberately shoved any thought of a naked Damon from my mind. I didn’t need that kind of imagery if I was going to keep things straight in my head.
My pelvis still tingled faintly from the pleasure he’d given me. I squeezed my thighs together, gripping the counter top for strength as another gentle wave rippled through me.
Good God.
Don’t get me wrong, I’d touched myself before — I wasn’t a nun— but doing it to yourself and having someone do it to you was completely different.
Every nerve was alive, tingling.
And I was kinda tired.
I mean, like sated.
Honestly, I would’ve loved to be able to curl up on the sofa and catch a few ‘zzzz’s.
But we didn’t have time for that.
And I’d promised to make Damon something to eat.
How domestic.
If he’d just been open to listening in the first place, I could’ve done this at his place.
I spent $40 on groceries that were rotting on his kitchen floor.
I pulled out some eggs, cheese and turkey meat from the fridge. It was the best that I could do. If he didn't like it, he could starve.
I made quick work of throwing an omelet together just in time for Damon to enter the room, still drying his head with a towel.
Bare-chested, barefoot, wearing only his jeans…Goddamn.
He wasn’t my type, right?
I just had to keep reminding myself that but as the spit dried in my mouth, I struggled with the words I was trying to say with any sort of conviction.
“Really? Why can't you put some clothes on? This isn’t a strip show and I’m not going to shove a dollar in your pants just because you have a six, um, eight pack.”
But my annoyance wasn't purely directed toward him.
Why did my stomach have to react like butterflies were jumping on trampolines?
That irritating tingle in the pit of my belly was not welcome.
Not only was an attraction to
Damon completely inappropriate, it was downright stupid.
Damon McAvoy wasn't the kind of man you settled down with.
Hell, Damon McAvoy wasn't the man you shared a cab ride with.
But, again, desperation created strange bedfellows so they say.
I pushed the plate toward him and crossed my arms. “I'm not running a restaurant.”
“Looks good to me.” He grabbed the plate and started to wolf down what I prepared. Within seconds it was a memory.
“That all you got?” he asked, rising to go poke through my cupboards.
He probably had the metabolism of a hummingbird. All those muscles required major protein to maintain.
“Look, I'm not here to feed you. We're here to find a plan. You said you were hungry. I have given you something to put in your stomach. Let's move on.”
He grunted as if he'd half listened, found a box of crackers, and started munching before saying, “We can't stay here. Davonte knows where you live and he's gonna come here sooner or later.”
“Well, if he thinks you're chasing me then I think we have a little bit of time to figure things out.”
Damon nodded as if that made sense but added, “Still not gonna do much good if anyone sees us running around. If I'm supposed to be chasing, I can't be having breakfast with you.”
“So where do you suppose we go? We sure as hell can't go to your place either.”
“That's the truth.”
He glanced around the small bungalow.
“Not a bad place.”
“My father inherited it from my grandparents.”
“Where’s your Pops now?”
“Who cares?”
“Oh, so it’s like that?”
“My dad is a gambler and a drunk. Chances are he’s face down in a bar or an alley somewhere, sleeping off a bender. He was real disappointed when I told him I wasn’t going to be Davonte’s newest whore.”
Damon accepted my answer, his gaze still roving my small house, stopping to rest here and there on the few photos I had scattered about the house in some semblance of appearing normal.
I loved my little house not because it was beautiful or cute or quaint or anything like that but because it harbored the best memories of my life, thanks to my grandparents.