Free A Perfect Mistake by Zoe Dawson

the one who was leaning over me with
her creamy skin and touching me like she liked it.
    “Not my
fault,” I mumbled.
    “I’m not
going to argue about who’s to blame for your hard-on right now.
Where are the keys?!”
    “Other
pocket.” Was this a surreal-induced dream? Had the preacher’s
daughter just grabbed my junk and then said hard-on? Geezus.
    She leaned across
me, which really didn’t help my hard-on at all. I buried my
face in her fragrant hair and she mumbled something under her breath.
    I ran my hand over
her hair and she stiffened. It was so soft as it slipped through my
fingers. I rubbed some of the midnight locks between my thumb and
forefinger.
    “Stop that,”
she said. “Where the hell are the keys?” She dug into my
pocket, trying not to dig too far.
    “Oh, wait. I
think back pocket.” Some memory drifted past of me tucking them
there.
    She huffed and
roughly pushed me forward, and then she was cupping my ass as she dug
in one pocket and searched. Tossing her head and sighing, she reached
for the other side of my ass. I was trying with all my might not to
react.
    Once again not
helping my hard-on. Or it was. Depended on how you looked at it, I
guess.
    “Finally!”
she yelled with triumph and held my keys up.
    Shoving the key into
the ignition, she snapped. “Nothing is easy with you, Boone
Outlaw.”
    “I’m
easy,” I said softly as she put the truck in gear.
    “All men are
easy.”
    I let my head drop
back. “That’s because you have what we want. And we want
it all the fucking time.” Had I said that out loud? Oh shit! I
must have, because she was looking at me with this drop-jawed look.
    “You think
that’s a revelation to any woman on this planet?” she
said with smug womanness.
    Was that even a
word? Fuck
me, my head fucking hurts.
    “I don’t
think you can take more medicine for at least three hours.” She
glanced at me. “You do have some at home, right?”
    Apparently, I said
that out loud, too. “Yes, sometimes I get muscle aches from
lifting and I need it.”
    She huffed again.
“You lift weights?”
    “Yes, physical
work. Need muscles.”
    “Oh, man,”
she mumbled under her breath.
    The next thing I
knew she was shaking me. We were pulling up to my house. She pushed
the garage door opener and maneuvered the vehicle into the open
space. My other space was taken up with a sleek new Harley-Davidson
Street 750, midnight black like Verity’s hair.
    She glanced at the
bike as she came around to the passenger side, her eyes sliding over
all that glossy metal. My dick tightened. I don’t know why, but
it turned me on that she was ogling my sweet ride.
    She pulled my door
open and I thought I was moving so coolly and smoothly, but I lost my
balance as a dizzy spell knocked me for a loop. There was no way
Verity could catch me, and I slammed against the concrete of the
garage floor. But I just kept talking.
    “It’s a
beautiful bike right? It’s got a liquid-cooled 60-degree V-twin
whose chain-driven single overhead camshafts operate four valves per
cylinder via roller rockers with screw adjusters. Cool modern, design
right? It goes right back to the V-Rod of 2001. The 60-degree design
was chosen to help reduce the height of the wet-sump engine, which
helps keep seat height and center of gravity low. Brax has a hog, but
I like the sleeker bikes.”
    “Boone! I’m
sure it’s an impressive bike. But, could you take it slower?
Okay. You’ve got a high fever and you’re not exactly
firing on all cylinders, sugar.”
    Everything inside me
froze and I lost my train of thought. Sugar .
She called me sugar. Damn if I didn’t like that.
    She bent down again,
getting all up in my personal space, pressing her breasts here and
there when she tried to help me up.
    Again. Not helping
my fucking hard-on.
    I stumbled up the
stairs.
    “Where’s….your…bedroom?”
    “First door on
the left.”

Chapter Five

    Verity

    I ducked inside his
room, taking in everything. His