Con-Artist by Riley Alexa

Author:Riley, Alexa
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-02-04T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

James

“You can cook?” I ask as I sit on top of the kitchen counter where he put me after our long hot shower. My legs are tucked under me and his shirt is draped over me like a dress. My clothes are nowhere to be found at the moment and I haven’t asked for them. I let him put his shirt over my head and lead me around with his big hand wrapped around my wrist. I think he believes I could get away, but I’m not trying. I made a promise that I’d stay and I always live up to my promises. I never want to be like my parents and all the broken ones they’d given me, so I’ve always made sure to keep my word.

I followed him like a lost puppy and it wasn’t until I was in the kitchen that I realized I didn’t see the house at all. I blame the orgasm for sending me into a blissful fog and causing me to miss everything. The pleasure he’d given me had been the greatest of my life and he made me feel way too much. It’s unsettling, but I crave more and maybe that’s why I’m not running from here.

I didn’t know water could stay hot that long and never get cold. I swear I think we were in there for almost an hour. I stood there on the verge of tears and wanting to lash out as he washed every single inch of me. He even washed my hair and it was so sweet it made my heart ache. As much as I loved all of it, it scared the fucking hell out of me. He’s making it hard for me to remember how I’d gotten here and that I don’t belong here.

My eyes dart to the bracelet on my wrist as I try to remind myself that I’m out of my depth. But the thing is so pretty I’m not sure I want to part with it. This house, him, the jewelry—it’s all on a level of life I don’t belong to.

“Yeah, my nana taught me,” he says, bringing me back to what’s in front of me.

He’s facing the stove and shirtless. Every time his bare back flexes I see the hard muscles move and I itch to touch him. When he reaches to get something in the cabinet next to the stove his gray sweatpants hang lower and I lick my lips. He needs to put some clothes on, but I don’t dare tell him that because he’d get naked just for spite.

“Your nana?” The word sounds silly coming from him. I know what a nana is, but I never knew any of my grandparents growing up. I think my mom has a sister, but she wants nothing to do with my mom and I don’t blame her.

He glances over his shoulder at me. “Yeah, my dad’s mom loves to cook. It’s what we did when I went over there as a kid.

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