Make Me a Match by Goode Ella

Author:Goode, Ella
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-01-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Gant

She holds my hand like she doesn’t want me to let go. I’m fine with that sentiment, which is why I don’t drive her directly to Belle Époque. Sure, that means I’ll have to make a fresh beignet run since the ones in the small box will be soggy by the time Paislee gets home, but that seems like a small price to pay to have her in my home for a small amount of time. It’s not that I’m planning to seduce her there. It doesn’t seem like she’s ready for much more than hand holding and kissing.

“Is this the right way home?” she asks as the houses get smaller and closer together.

“Date night’s not over yet,” I tell her. “We don’t want the foundation after me for failing to deliver on the entire package you bought.”

She shifts in her seat to stare at me instead of the scenery out the window. “Out of curiosity, what would the foundation do? Is there some charity jail that you’d be locked up in?”

My mind flips to the story that Petersburg told about the Biederman twins. If there was a charity jail, it’s likely their house. “Yes. It’s an old drafty house and you are chained to a post in the room and fed only gruel and water.”

“What exactly is gruel?”

“I have no idea, but we can both agree that it sounds terrible, right?”

“Yes, I can agree with that.”

“I like this. What other common ground can we find? Grass is green; sky is blue?” I tease.

“Coke is better than Pepsi.”

“Whoa there. Let’s not go crazy. Scientific studies have shown that Pepsi is the superior cola.”

“What studies are those?” She laughs.

I love that sound. I want to hear it daily. “I’ll show you when we get to my place. I have a whole stack of them in my bedroom,” I lie.

She snorts. “If you wanted to get me into your bedroom, you should just say so.”

“I want you in my bedroom. Preferably naked, but I’m fine if you want to keep your clothes on. There’s plenty of trouble we can get into even if you’re fully clothed.”

Silence falls. There’s no quick rejoinder from Paislee this time. I tear my eyes from the road to check her expression. Have I gone too far? Her eyes are wide, and her cheeks are slightly pink, but what really gets me is her parted lips.

A hundred images tumble one after another of all the profane things I could do with that slight gap. Slip my thumb between them, widen the opening with the fat head of my cock. That sort of thing. Taking her to my home might be a mistake, but it’s too late now. My driveway is two car lengths away. When I pull up to the garage, I suffer a momentary pang of insecurity. My place is tiny compared to Belle Époque. In fact, I think you could fit the entirety of my two-bedroom ranch in the ballroom of Marguerite Abbott’s place. At least that’s what my mom said the few times she’s been over.

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