Price of a Kiss (Forbidden Men, #1)(2)

He stared hard at the old, run-down lawn mower and tried not to pass out. “No. I didn’t.”

Christ, that was a lot of money.

As if feeling his pain and offering him a measure of comfort, Mrs. Garrison crouched beside him and set her hand on his bare knee. He glanced at her, thinking maybe he’d see some compassion in her gaze. Maybe she’d give them a couple of months to hunt up three grand.

Except, with that calculating gleam glistening within her callous, hazel depths, she didn’t look very sympathetic. Her palm shifted on his leg, sliding up to mid-thigh, and he nearly leapt out of his shorts.

Damn, did she plan on giving him a hand job right here in the middle of his mother’s backyard, or what? While a part of his brain screamed gross, the little guy in his pants perked to attention, deciding her slim fingers felt rather nice moving up his leg and would probably feel even nicer resting on his enflamed head.

An electric pulse jumped through his system. He wanted to shove her away and glare at her for doing this to him, for making his body react against his will. But he couldn’t shove her anywhere, couldn’t tell her off, couldn’t even give her a scathing glare. His mother owed her over three thousand dollars.

How many freaking months of rent was that?

Panic set deep into his veins. He needed to divert this before it went straight to where he feared it was already going.

“I’m sure Mom has the money,” he tried. “Sh-she and Sarah should be home in an hour or two. She can pay you then.”

“Really?” Mrs. Garrison brightened. “So we have an hour or two to do whatever we want?”

Mason didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to run, but he had a bad feeling those fingernails of hers would bite into his leg and rip him to shreds if he tried.

He felt trapped.

She leaned in closer, the heat from her palm scorching his thigh. A coconut smell wafted over him. “I’m not stupid, you know. Your mother doesn’t have that kind of cash. And she won’t pay me anything whenever she gets home from her doctor’s appointment. But I’d be willing to cut what she owes me in, let’s say, half if you’d perchance be willing to make a side arrangement with me.”

Holy mother of God.

Mrs. Garrison had just asked him to have sex with her.

For fifteen hundred dollars.

He didn’t even know her first name.

“You know what I’m asking, don’t you, Mason?”

Leaning away, he closed his eyes and nodded.

“Good.” She sounded pleased. And disgustingly smug. “So your answer would be…?”

Unable to actually voice his refusal, he gave a vigorous shake of his head.

When she didn’t respond, a tense silence met his ears. His curiosity got the best of him, and he opened his lashes.

She studied him with a shrewd expression, as if she knew a small, microscopic part of him wanted to say yes. But seriously, what eighteen-year-old guy wanted to say no to sex, even if it meant losing it to an old chick?

“Is that your final answer?” she asked, sounding amused.

He messed up by opening his mouth. “Yes! I’m absolutely positive. I won’t have sex with you. I wouldn’t…” He glanced away. “I wouldn’t even know what to do.”

Why he went and confessed that, he had no idea. But he hoped to God it scared her off, because any woman who wanted a fumbling virgin to bang her had to be out of her ever-loving mind.

Instead of jerking her hand off him in revulsion, however, her fingers tightened on his leg. Hazel eyes widened, and she licked her lips.

“Oh, sweetie,” she breathed. “You just made me wet.”

Mason blinked. Huh?

“Don’t worry if it’s your first time, darling. I could teach you everything you need to know. And more. It would be an honor to train a young buck like you to learn my…preferences.” Her fingers began to slide farther up his leg.

He grabbed her wrist before she reached the hem of his shorts because he knew she wouldn’t stop there. She wouldn’t stop until she had a handful. His dick throbbed, knowing full well this was as close as any female had ever come to touching him. Stupid dick.

Gritting his teeth, he tightened his grip on her to warn her away. But hell, she began to breathe harder as if his manhandling turned her on even more.

With her gaze glazing to a fevered pitch, she drew in a heavy pant. “Damn, you have strong hands. You’re hard for me right now, aren’t you?”

Disgusted with her as much as he was with his own betraying body, he threw her hand off and lurched to his feet, turning slightly away so she couldn’t see anything bulging from his shorts.

“You need to leave,” he bit out. It had to be the most surreal, embarrassing, awkward moment of his life, standing petrified in his mother’s backyard in front of a broken lawn mower, sporting a woody and discussing sex for sale with the landlady. “I told you no.”

“Fine.” She huffed out an indignant sniff as she pushed to her feet. The heat from her glare burned into the back of his neck. “Tell your mother to pay up by the end of the week then, or she’ll be receiving an eviction notice.”

Mason spun around to gape at her.

She wouldn’t.

Oh, holy hell, she would.

She pretended to admire her fingernails, preening in front of him as if proud of herself for besting him. Then, with a jaunty wave, she chirped, “Toodles,” and twirled away on her heels, humming a bubbly tune under her breath. Her hips swung in a saucy manner as she strolled toward the gate.