Chapter 8
8
LINCOLN
She opens the glass door of her white, three-story beach house and slams it shut behind her. My mouth falls open as I take her in. Underneath her sheer lilac shirt, a dark-purple lace bra peeks out the top of an unbuttoned collar, showing off her glorious and bountiful cleavage. The devil has already reserved my space in hell because those beautiful breasts are going to be the only thing I see when I jerk off in the shower from now on.
Her shirt is tucked into tight black leather pants and she’s wearing shiny black heels.
I groan, and she obviously hears.
“You like?” she asks, strutting toward me; confidence bounces off her.
“You look incredible.” She looks fuckable.
“Hi,” she says softly. “You look different.”
“Okay different, or not so okay different?”
“Okay different.” Eyes locked on mine, she stares at me.
Shit, I should have left my beard and long hair.
Now she can see my face. I’m not sure she likes it.