Chapter 16
June
“Mr. Wolsey? Are you still—”
Two beeps cut me off. I pull my phone away from my ear and scowl at the call history on the screen.
What a petty asshole.
He ended the call because I spoke the truth and he didn’t like hearing it.
I’m lock my phone and set it aside when it pings from a new text message. It’s probably a threatening follow up from Mr. Wolsey, ordering me to obey his rules or he’ll kick me out of the apartment.
I’m not in the mood for more of his drama after listening to him over the phone, but I swipe down my notifications bar to read the text anyway.
It’s not from my landlord. It’s from the man who’s been on my mind all day, no matter how hard I try to focus on anything else.
Malcolm: When do you get off work?
I hesitate to reply, suspicious of his motive for asking.
June: Around 7. Why?
Malcolm: Just want to know what time to pick you up.
June: That’s OK. I have a monthly pass.
It’s silly to reject his offer. Instead of enduring a packed, humid, hour-long bus ride, I could cruise home in air-conditioned comfort in his truck.
It’s the principle of the thing, dammit! Tyler called me heartless, but he’s so wrong. Malcolm did something a sensible person would find unforgivable. My stupid heart is softening because of his actions afterwards.
Once again, he put himself in danger to keep me safe by fighting off the intruder… and then he made me come.
Saying no to Malcolm’s kind gestures makes it easier to stay upset with him like I want to. Anger is my sergeant, toughening up my heart and smacking those rose-tinted glasses away so I don’t put them on again for him.
I mean, I did have that chicken wrap he made for me. It was really good, and that worked to keep the fire of anger burning. How dare he make tasty food after what he did?
Malcolm replies with a thumbs-up reaction. I wait for more, but he doesn’t say anything else. I guess he accepted my foolish choice.
Around closing time, I’m rearranging dresses in the correct order and tidying up in preparation to leave. The door sensor alerts me that someone entered the store.
Katelyn left early today, which means I have to lock up. I should’ve done it sooner and turned the sign.
As much as I would love the commission, I’m too tired to put on my sales persona. Hopefully, this customer is just a lookie-loo who’ll leave once I politely tell them the store is closing in a few minutes.
I return to the front and halt. Malcolm is seated in the store’s teal sofa, looking too comfortable with one arm slung over the backrest and his leg crossed over his knee.
Summoned by the sight of him, the filthy memories from last night return in full force. Flutters fill my stomach and warmth rush up my neck. The intensity of his stare tells me he’s remembering everything too.
I fold my arms. “What are you doing here?”
“To take you home.”
“I told you, I’m taking the bus.”
He scoffs. “June, come on. You know that’s ridiculous.”
“How is it ridiculous to use of my monthly pass? It’s expensive. Almost a hundred and sixty dollars.”
A faint smile curves his lips. “Then why did you accept the ride I gave you to work yesterday morning?”
“Because I didn’t know the real you yet. If I had known, I wouldn’t have accepted the ride then either.”
He uncrosses his legs and stands, rising from the sofa like a mountain pushing up from the earth, tall and imposing.
“You knew the real me last night.” He comes closer, his voice silken. “You didn’t seem to mind.”
I avert my gaze. “I didn’t have a choice. You forced me.”
“Did I force you to grab my head and rub your pussy on my face too?”
My face grows warm, my mind failing to deliver a good retort. Even though he kept his voice low enough for only me to hear, I’m glad it’s just us in the store.
I’m ashamed of the truth, irritated that my indignation can’t be completely righteous because of the hypocrisy.
The mechanics are the same, but there’s a difference between what I caught Malcolm doing before the intruder and what we did after. Before, I couldn’t consent because I was asleep. After, I could, because I was awake and aware.
That’s where the hypocrisy comes in. I could say he forced me when he carried me to my bed and pinned me with his body, but my resistance was short-lived.
I had just discovered his treachery too. That was when I should’ve distrusted him the most. Instead, I enjoyed every second as my dad’s best friend held my legs wide open and devoured my pussy like he was starving for it all his life. I even hoped he would go further than that too.
I tried to hold on to it, but there’s no point anymore. I release my anger on a deep exhale. My next inhale brings the acceptance of things I can’t change. Like the past and Malcolm’s determination to not let me ride the bus home.
I turn away from him. “I have some stuff I need to finish up first before I can leave.”
I catch his nod out of the corner of my eye before I return to the backroom.
* * *
Malcolm’s truck is parked across the street and the nearest crosswalk is over a block away.
We chance jaywalking. When there’s a small break in traffic, he grabs my hand and hurries with me across the lanes.
His hand is so much bigger than mine, his palm somewhat rough from manual labour, his grip firm but not painful. It’s a simple act that makes my insides warm because it’s another non-verbal message that he cares about me.
He doesn’t release my hand until he’s opened the passenger’s door for me. Our gazes meet as I enter the vehicle and the naked interest in his eyes makes me nervous. What’s going to happen when we’re alone in the apartment again?
If he tries anything, I’ll stop him, right?
My inner moral voice remains silent.
We don’t speak much during the drive home, the radio host’s smooth, baritone voice filling the silence between us.
“What are ten signs they’re into you? Ten signs they want to be with you?
” His partner lets out a soft, practised laugh before she answers.
“Well, number one, they say it!” The radio host laughs too.
“That’s right. That’s right. Some of us can be a little clueless sometimes. We’ve got to hear the words!”
When we’re finally home, I’m shocked as Malcolm takes out a key and unlocks the building’s main entrance.
“How did you get a key?” I demand.
“I made a copy from yours this morning. One for the apartment too.”
I usually leave my keys in Belinda’s basket—a little basket held by a Día de los Muertos rag doll Penny gifted me—on top of the shoe rack beside the door. He must have grabbed them from there.
I frown. “You should’ve asked me first.”
“I wanted to, but I would’ve had to come into your bedroom while you were still sleeping to do that.”
His stare is expectant, like he’s waiting for more objections. I don’t have any because he’s right. If I’d woken up to him in my bedroom again, it probably would’ve had poor results.
I would’ve been mad at him again, or worse, we would’ve been tempted to climb the last rung on the taboo ladder. After I threatened to keep him locked out last night, I can see why he copied the keys. I wouldn’t take any chances either if I were in his shoes.
Although it’s a bad idea for us to live together, there’s a major benefit to him staying with me. He’s the first one to enter the apartment, quietly ordering me to remain at the door while he goes in first to check for any lurking dangers.
This is why he came to pick me up.
He wanted to keep me safe, as always. The realization stirs up feelings for him I don’t want to face because they’re too complicated and scary.
Malcolm returns with an all-clear. I enter and shut the door, then toe-off my ballet flats.
“Did that Wally guy—the landlord—get back to you about the installations?” he asks.
I free my hair from my scrunchie, and the relief is immediate and immense. I massage my tender scalp while I answer his question.
“He said it’s OK to change the lock as long as he gets a copy of the key, but he doesn’t want you to put up a camera.”
I head for the loveseat, sighing as I sink into the cushion’s soft embrace. The weariness in my body after work is only ever noticeable when I sit. Malcolm removes his shoes too, then comes closer. He remains standing, his eyebrows furrowed.
“Did he say why?”
I wave my hand. “Something about it being a violation of privacy for the other tenants.”
“What violation? This is the last unit on this floor. The camera will point at the wall opposite the door.”
“I guess he means it’ll pick up people walking through the hallway to the rear exit.”
He scoffs and shakes his head. “He’s a fucking joke. We’re in a major city and this property lacks protection. He needs to update the main entrance with a modern security system, put up exterior cameras, and fix the one in the lobby because I don’t think it’s working.”
“You’re not going to believe this next part.” I scowl when I remember Mr. Wolsey’s sanctimonious tone over the phone. “He doesn’t like that you moved in either. He says it’s against his religious beliefs for an unmarried man and woman to live together in his property.”
The look on Malcolm’s face could freeze the Great Lakes.
“It’s a good thing the law doesn’t give a flying fuck what he believes.”
I snort, though the displeasure on his face makes it clear he didn’t intend to be funny. It feels good to be in solidarity with him. Mr. Wolsey got on my nerves too. He didn’t seem as upset about the intruder as he did about the solutions to protect myself.
“He hung up on me after I told him it’s illegal for him to discriminate against tenants based on religion.”
Malcolm takes out his phone. “Give me his number. I’ll get in touch with him and sort this out.”
His expression and tone of voice reminds me of when he said he’d have a chat with Kevin if the police didn’t help in time. I share Mr. Wolsey’s contact information with him and he pockets his phone.
“Go wash up. I’m gonna get dinner started.” He starts to turn away but pauses when I stand with a wince. “What’s wrong?”
I wave away his concern. “The store was busy and I was on my feet for most of the day. Wearing flats the whole time didn’t help either.”
“Do you want a foot rub?”
Do I want one? Hell yes. I’ll be a puddle of bliss in his strong hands.
Should I get one from him? Hell no. His hands on my feet, rubbing and squeezing and kneading while I groan in pleasure seems like the start of a porno.
As a matter of fact, I’m one hundred percent certain it’ll lead to something highly inappropriate between us again.
“Uh… no. That’s OK.” I drop my gaze and back away from temptation. “A hot shower will do.”
In the shower, I fantasize about how things would’ve proceeded if I’d accepted his offer.
It would start out innocently, his capable fingers finding all the sore spots in my feet and massaging away the ache.
He’d slide his hands up my calves and thighs.
Soon, his face would be between my legs again, his wicked tongue offering a whole different kind of bliss.
Stop thinking filthy things about him!
I can’t stop. My fantasy becomes the memories from last night, pelting my mind like the spray of water on my body.
What stands out is that moment as he knelt over me, rubbing his erection over his boxers.
It was so big and so hard, it strained against his underwear like it would rip through the material any second.
I was wet and ready for him, and I saw the hunger in his eyes. Why didn’t he take what he obviously wanted? It would’ve been easy for him to pull himself out and slide into me.
My pussy tightens around the phantom feeling of Malcolm’s thick cock inside me, filling me deep. I slip my fingers between my legs, pushing two of them into me, just the way he did last night.
His fingers were bigger and better.
Ashamed, I pull my fingers out and pat my cheeks hard. Get it together. I had the water on lukewarm, but I turn it to cold as punishment for fantasizing about fucking my dad’s best friend.
Done with my shower and dressed, I’m greeted by a delicious scent when I leave the bedroom. Malcolm stands by the stove, stirring the colourful contents in a large pan.
He must have bought new cookware because I’ve never seen that pan before, nor the gleaming pot puffing steam on another burner.
“Need any help?” I offer.
Just nowhere near the stove, I don’t say. He glances at me as if he heard me anyway.
“It’s almost done. You can get out the plates and utensils.”
A few minutes later, we sit down to eat Malcolm’s tasty beef stir fry. Unlike the other times we’ve shared a meal, it’s quiet between us.
The easy vibe we had when we first came home and discussed Mr. Wolsey is gone, replaced by a tension that seems to grow heavier in the silence.
Finally, Malcolm breaks it by setting down his fork with a resolute clink against his plate. He holds my gaze.
“About last night...” He pauses. “It won’t happen again, I promise. I won’t touch you again.”
The words slip out of me. “You did more than touch.”
His gaze turns heated. “Yes, I did. Everything I did to you last night, I won’t do again.”
I look down, warmth in my cheeks as I idly push a piece of broccoli around on my plate. His words should bring me comfort. I don’t feel it. Only disappointment.
I lift my gaze to his. “I’m still going to lock my bedroom door.”
“I get it,” he says with a faint smile. “Just so you know, the bedroom doors in most apartments only have a privacy lock.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“They’re for privacy, but they’re not real locks. It’s easy to open them from the outside with a flathead screwdriver or a coin.”
I narrow my eyes at him. His handiness is a blessing and a curse.
“Fine. I’ll drag my dresser behind my door then.”
He nods. “That will keep me out. It looks heavy, though. I can help you move it.”
“Then you’ll be in there—” I cut myself off at his smirk and shake my head in amusement. “Nice try.” My smile falls when I remember something I meant to ask him. “Speaking of the dresser, is your back OK? It looked like that asshole shoved you against it really hard.”
“The spot is still a bit sore but it’s going away.”
I can rub it for you.
That’s an equally bad idea as when he offered to rub my feet. Paranoid I might say the words out loud, I stab my broccoli with my fork and stick it into my mouth.