Unsteady by Melissa Collins

Author:Melissa Collins [Collins, Melissa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General Fiction
Publisher: M. Collins Author, LLC
Published: 2017-04-28T05:00:00+00:00

AS WE SETTLED into the car to go God knows where, I couldn’t erase the images of Jude on his knees. It was the second time in as many days that he’d taken every drop I’d given him, and the only thought running through my head was that I couldn’t wait to do the same thing to him.

“So,” Jude asked as he turned down the radio.

“Yeah,” I answered, keeping my eyes trained out the window, letting the familiar yet foreign landscape blur past me.

He laughed, a soft sound filling what would have been an awkward space between us. “I got nothing.” Clearly starting a conversation was something with which he struggled.

Jerking me off, not so much.

Thank God for small miracles.

“Okay, I’ll go.” Finding the voice he lacked for small conversation, I prodded, “Tell me about work.”

His laugh echoed the one from just seconds ago. “I’m that easy to read, huh?”

“Like an open book. So,” I encouraged, “give me something about work, and then you go.”

“What is this, truth or dare?” he joked, but I picked up on the seriousness lingering in his words.

“Sure, minus the dare and all. Jumping out of a moving car isn’t exactly something I’m up for tonight.” Leaning against the door, I looked over at him, waggling my eyebrows. “You can dare me later, though.”

His knuckles tightened on the steering wheel, and I bubbled with pride that I could affect him with a few simple words. “I’ll hold you to that,” he threatened, his voice sexy as hell. After clearing his throat, he headed back to the original topic of conversation. “Work is good. I love teaching. Plus, I get to stay active pretty much all day long, especially as a coach. So it’s kind of like I get paid to work out and motivate kids. You really can’t beat that.”

Pretending as if I was weighing his answer, I rubbed my hand over my chin. “Fair enough. You’re up now.”

It was clear to see he wanted to ask the perfect question and I was sure there were a million of them running through his head. Hell, the list of his prospective questions scared the shit out of me.

What are you running away from?

What was war really like?

What happened with your parents?

Why are you here?

How screwed up are you that you need a service dog?

Just thinking about what he’d ask set my heart pounding in my chest, and not in a good way. As the uneasiness pumped through my veins, I ran my hand over my thigh and tried to tuck the other arm between my body and the door panel, just so he couldn’t see it. He opened his mouth to speak, and it was as if the world stood still waiting for the words to spill out.

“How long did it take you to adjust to jerking off with your left hand?” As straight-faced as possible, he looked over at me, waiting on the edge of his seat for my reply.

“Uh . . . um . .

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