Last Call by M.S. Brannon

Author:M.S. Brannon [Brannon, M.S.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: M.S. Brannon Books
Published: 2014-09-19T16:00:00+00:00

Mariah

When Jason invited us up to his apartment, I was very hesitant. I didn’t want him knowing about Royce, and I sure as hell didn’t want Royce knowing about him. My son is inquisitive and will ask any question he sees fit to get answers. At times, I feel he is interrogating me for the simplest details with anything; my supper choice, when we’re going to see grandma next, why superheroes only exist on TV. This relationship with Jason and the fact that he now knows I have a male friend will spark questions I’m not prepared to answer. I knew one day we’d have to have the talk about guys and why I don’t have one or why he doesn’t have a daddy, but I was hoping I could get by for a few more years.

When Jason opened the door to his penthouse, I was completely taken aback. It is a very grand and beautiful place. From the white marble floors, elaborate entertainment set up, to the wall of glass overlooking the ocean, this place is breathtaking and solidifies how rich Jason really is. It makes me a little nervous.

I keep my mouth shut and look around as he carries me into the kitchen and sets me on the counter where he removes my shoes. I take the opportunity of privacy when he walks away with them to speak with my son.

“You need to be really careful here, okay? Don’t get into anything, and for the love of God, don’t break anything. One of these plates”—I point to the dishes in the glass cupboards—“probably costs more than Mommy makes in one year. Okay, love?”

Royce looks up at me and smiles. “I know, I know. Geesh, I wasn’t born in a barn.”

I release a giggle, knowing he’s repeating something my mother would say to my brother when he was Royce’s age.

Jason comes strolling back into the room, looking relaxed, yet not. I’m wondering what is going through his mind. Is he freaking out because I have a kid? Or that I hurt my ankle? Or that I’m in his apartment, with my kid, and hobbling on an injured ankle? Fuck, it’s probably all three. Well, at least I won’t have to do the dirty work and tell him I love him. He will end the relationship as soon as he gets me out of his place. That will suck because looking at him dressed in his workout shorts and nothing else is enough to make me jump off this counter and fuck his brains out. I’ve never been so turned on in my life. He looks incredibly normal and not the asshole he typically is—the very asshole he was last night when he left me.

He says nothing as he opens his freezer and pulls an ice pack from the shelf. He wraps the cold pack in a towel and gently places it on my ankle. It hurts initially; however, the sweat covering his upper body distracts me. I think about

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