I sensed like I had before, that it was hard for Jim to talk about him. You don’t have to …
Yup. Anyway, you know where I live. Or used to live. Come if you want.As he ended the call, she nearly lost her nerve. But she was picking this, wasn’t she. She was going to choose the depth, not the surface. She was going to…trust in what her heart knew of the male, rather than what things appeared to be based on a two-minute interaction with a sire that Peyton didn’t respect.
Her own past traumas aside, she owed the male a chance to explain. And from there…well, it was going to be what it was. But at least she wouldn’t be punishing him for sins he hadn’t committed, as he had said.Outside on the street, she needed a couple of tries before she could dematerialize, and when she re-formed on the lawn of his family’s mansion, she was surprised. There was a big white U-Haul truck with a sea lion and some facts about Maine on its side backed right up to the grand front entrance.Like the stately home was a college dorm or something and it was the end of the year.
Walking up through the snow, she paused to look into the van’s open bay. There was a sofa in there. Boxes. Wardrobe stands with clothes on hangers. Shoes in laundry bins.Hey, could you give me a hand with this? came a distant voice.
She wheeled around. Peyton was at the bottom of the stairs inside, trying to corral a love seat and all of its pillows in his arms.
She stomped her combat boots on the mat, not because she cared about tracking dirt into his father’s house, but because she didn’t want to slip and fall on all the marble. As she jogged over, it was hard to have that scent of Peyton’s in her nose.Fishing for compliments? That’s not like you.
Just stating reality. She took another haul of the vodka. You’re my only option, too. So we’re in this together.You make me blush with the compliments, he muttered. No, stop. Really.
You don’t like being used? Hmm, maybe this is a life lesson for all those women and females you fuck at the clubs.It’s not using someone if there’s pleasure involved. Mutual, that is.