7 Months (Time for Love 8)

Score!

I grabbed my keys off of the bathroom sink and rushed out of the house to jump into my Chevelle.

Ming’s loft wasn’t that far from my house. Downtown and a few short blocks from her law office, Bronagh had told me Ming picked it out so that she could walk to work when it was warm outside.

Most of the things I knew about Ming, I’d heard from Bronagh. Not because I asked, but because Bronagh loved to talk. She had no problem carrying on a one-sided conversation with me; she did it all the time. Since I’d started hooking up with Ming, I hadn’t minded as much. I could find out stuff about her without asking myself, and making her think that what we had would turn into something more. It was better if we kept things simple, the way we’d agreed.

I didn’t want to hurt her, but I was afraid it was inevitable.

Even without me prying into her life, or us spending time with each other out of bed, I saw the way Ming looked at me. It wasn’t simply with infatuation anymore, and I knew I needed to make a decision.

Let her go, or move forward and give her more.

I didn’t want to let her go. I enjoyed our time together. But something was holding me back … Maybe myself? I really didn’t know how to open myself up to a woman the same way I did to my family. Family was always going to be there, but women seemed to come and go.

I shook those thoughts out of my head as I bounded up the stairs to Ming’s loft. As always, when I turned the handle I found she’d left it open for me.

“Ming,” I chastised as I let myself in and locked the door behind me. “What have I said about leaving your door unlocked? It’s not safe, there are a lot of crazies out there. Believe me, I know.”

I took of my jacket and laid it over the back of her gray high-back chair.

Unlike my place, Ming’s was pristine. Decorated in shades of white and gray, it was a space that was comfortable and welcoming, even though it felt high class.

Every time I saw Victoria, I wanted to tell her about it, knowing her interior decorating heart would explode with excitement over this place, but I couldn’t. Not without explaining why I’d been in Ming’s loft.

The door to the bathroom opened, and I turned, ready to repeat what I’d said about locking her front door, but when Ming stopped in the doorway, I lost my ability to form sentences.

She was wearing a long, black silk nightgown, her hair done in thick dark waves that fell around her shoulder, and the bra strap peeking out was as red as the heels on her feet.

After seven months, Ming still managed to surprise me, which was why I couldn’t seem to get enough of her. She always looked sophisticated, yet pure, with a hint of siren underneath. I knew what waited for me under all of that silk and lace, and I swore to God, that I wasn’t worthy of her.

Me … An orphan at fifteen, raised by my brother in a blue collar family. I’d spent my formative years painting houses, and now worked the streets, dealing with criminals every day.

I shouldn’t be allowed to touch her, but dammit if I was ready to give her up.

Crossing the loft in less than ten steps, I took her mouth without another word. Talking was overrated anyway.

Chapter Six ~ Ming

I was surrounded by Brady.

Scent, touch, emotion … he consumed me.

I’d bought this outfit as an unofficial birthday present for him, and once I’d received his text, I’d rushed to try and make myself up like the vision I had in my head. It must have worked, because after his initial comment about me leaving the door unlocked, the only thing Brady’s lips were doing was worshiping me.

The man knew how to work that mouth. Who was I kidding, he knew how to work everything. I’d never once been left unsatisfied when I was with Brady.

Well, physically. Emotionally was a-whole-other story.

His hands moved sensually up the side of my thighs, the silk of the material whispering against my skin, and my head fell back to give him lips better access to the length of my neck. Cupping my bottom, he lifted me easily off the floor and moved us toward the bed.

In anticipation of Brady’s arrival, I’d tossed all of my throw pillows on the floor and pulled back the duvet, folding it neatly at the foot of the bed. The sheets were nice and cool against my heated skin as he laid me down, pulling the nightgown over my head in one swift movement.

Desire made his eyes look ink black as they roamed over the bright-red bra and panty set, which only made my alabaster skin look even whiter in contrast. My breath caught at that look. I loved that look.

He lowered himself slightly, but kept most of his weight on his forearms, as he ran those full lips over my collarbone.

His jeans were rough against my highly sensitized legs and I bucked beneath him, eager to feel more.