BAKER (Devil's Disciples Book 1)(12)

“It’s uhhm.” I nervously walked past him and toward the kitchen. “It’s twenty-one hundred square feet with an open floor plan. It’s more spacious than anything else in this area. And, the price is--”

“Would you consider yourself adventurous?”

I spun around. “Excuse me?”

“Adventurous.” He began to walk in the other direction. “Would you describe yourself as an adventurous person?”

It seemed like an odd question. “In what respect?”

“Any,” he said over his shoulder.

My friends and family always said I was a risk taker. I wouldn’t call myself daring or fearless, but I could claim to be adventurous without much hesitation.

“Adventurous? I think so,” I said. “Why?”

“Just wondering.”

He sauntered toward the windows. With the edge of the window sill gripped in each hand, he gazed blankly through the glass. Immersed in whatever it was he was looking at, he stood there for some time without speaking.

I found him fascinating. He was handsome, mysterious, covered in tattoos, and as sexy as any man I had ever seen. There was something about him that made me question his intentions, but I couldn’t quite identify it.

After a silent moment, he turned around. “Desire or necessity?”

“Excuse me?”

“The bike. Do you ride it out of desire or necessity?”

“Necessity.” I chuckled. “I don’t have a car.”

“Good thing it never rains here.” He walked toward me, and then glanced over his shoulder as he passed. “Follow me.”

The kitchen had an ‘L’ shaped counter, with ceiling-high cabinets above the countertops. In the center sat an island that doubled as an eating space. I guessed the four bar stools positioned at the bar were the only pieces of furniture left behind when the space was cleaned out.

He leaned against the island and pushed one of the barstools to the side with the edge of his boot. “Have a seat.”

Without question or comment, I walked to the bar and sat down. It was so unlike me not to make a snide comment. It was equally uncommon for me to be in the presence of such a sexy piece of man-meat. After a moment’s thought, I simply dismissed my lack of attitude as me being out of my element and not knowing how to react.

I turned to face him. “Do you like what you’ve seen so far?”

He raked his fingers through his hair. As soon as he lowered his hands, a few strands fell into his face. He glanced around the room, and then looked at me. “I came into your office with an objective. Now, everything’s fucked up.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have no interest in looking at this space,” he said.

“Do you want to leave?”

He crossed his arms and gave me a look. “No.”

“But if you don’t want to--”

“I’m here for another reason,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

I felt uneasy. His confident demeanor and lack of interest in the loft had me wondering if he was a handsome tattooed murderer.

“What uhhm. Why…” I muttered. “I’m lost.”

“I asked you to come here so I could fuck you.” He nodded toward my waist. “Take off your pants.”

My nervousness vanished. Now in complete shock, I stared back at him with an open mouth. My face went flush. My mind raced. It had been forever since I’d had sex.

For. Ever.

There were several ways I could have perceived his offer. I’m sure there were many women who would tell themselves that they’d say no, slap him, or simply get up and walk away if presented with the same request.

They could think whatever they wanted. In a real world, I doubt they’d do anything but take off their pants. It was an opportunity to have sex with someone I would leave the lights on for, and those opportunities were infrequent.

My sexual vault was filled with vivid recollections of beer bellies, bad teeth, eight-dollar haircuts, and dicks that were thicker than they were long.

Sex on a stick was mostly lean muscle, had nice teeth, and was well-manicured. I decided there was only one way to find out about what still remained a mystery. His confident nature led me to believe his maker didn’t cheat him when he traveled down the dick aisle of the assembly line.

I hopped off the stool and unbuttoned my pants. “I’m not doing this for you.”

His eyebrows raised. “Oh, really?”

“It’s been a bad year,” I said. “A really bad year. I’m doing this for me.”

“Believe me. I damned sure didn’t come to your office with this in mind.” He reached for his belt. “But that ferocious little ass of yours convinced me to change directions.”

I was flattered, but I wasn’t sure if I should be. “Ferocious?”

“That’s right.” He unbuttoned his jeans. “Ferocious.”

I should have been naked already, but in typical girl fashion, I needed to know if ferocious was a good thing or a bad thing.

“Is that good?” I asked. “Ferocious?”

“Good enough that I’m where I shouldn’t be, doing something I shouldn’t be doing with someone I shouldn’t be doing it with.”

It was way too many shouldn’ts. I hesitated. “You’re not married, are you?”