Free Finding Home by Bonnie Dee, Lauren Baker

to read them.
    “You don’t want payment for this?”
    Megan’s heart broke at his incredulous tone. She shook her head. “You don’t owe me anything, Sean.”
    “Yeah? Because it really wouldn’t bother me, you know.” He gave her a suggestive once-over that made her stomach flip. The blood rose up her neck. Jesus, he’d just offered to fuck her or go down on her or something in exchange for a meal and bed for a night. And his hooded gaze on her body… She raised her hands in denial.
    “God, no, Sean! I’m not…this isn’t…I’m not like that…” As she stammered, anger replaced shock. How dare he think that of her after all the time they’d spent together? How dare he compare her to the men who used him?
    “You have no right to accuse me of that,” she said. Rising quickly, she walked to the refrigerator and opened the door. She trembled and tears threatened to take over. The cool air from the appliance washed over her hot cheeks, and she stood there a moment staring at a gallon of milk, a Chinese takeout box and a nasty looking slice of cake she’d forgotten to cover.
    She tried to compose herself, but ended up grabbing the milk and spinning around to continue railing at him. “Seriously. After all these weeks, after all the talking… I thought—I thought you respected me. I
    thought you knew I wouldn’t do that kind of shit. Who do you think I am?“
    She was almost shouting now, but Sean hadn’t moved. His expression was blank.
    “I’ve seen how you look at me.” His low voice hit Megan in the pit of her stomach. God, nothing slipped past him.
    She walked over to the table and set the milk down, rested her hands on the table, took a deep breath and forced herself to look him in the eye. “That’s got nothing to do with it, Sean. Nothing. I would never expect anything from you. Damn it, you’re seventeen. You’re younger than my little brother. You’ve told me how shitty your life is. How could you think I’d ever take advantage of you?” She maintained her stance, leaning on her hands and looking down at him, trying to put their roles in proper perspective.
    He shrugged, regarding her from under his eyebrows without lifting his head. He’d been gripping his fork like it was a weapon and now he set it carefully down beside his plate. “Yeah, well, that’s the way it is when you work the streets. You wouldn’t be the first person wanting to rescue me for their own reasons.” His eyes were flat, his voice even, as he retreated into the emotionless shell he favored when he felt vulnerable.
    It hadn’t even occurred to her he might have had similar experiences in the past.
    “You’ve done this before?” she said, dropping back into her seat.
    He cocked his head sideways and gave a little shrug of assent.“More than once?”
    “Listen, Megan,” he said slowly, “I’ve been on my own for a year and a half? You don’t think I’ve ever wanted to believe someone was just being nice to me?”
    “You seem so unwilling to trust anyone. Why would you—?”
    “Yeah, well, I learned my lesson,” he cut in abruptly. “And I was lucky. I never got caught up in any real shit. But no, I don’t trust anyone who says they don’t want a piece of me. It’s just not true. It never is.”
    He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her from his one good eye. The blackened one gave him a dangerous look, and he lounged back in his chair with sprawled legs, sending a sexual message. He was definitely giving her attitude. He might be better-mannered and more respectful to her on her turf, but he still had a feral intensity she found hard to ignore. His smoldering gaze challenged her to deny her attraction to him.
    “Sean…” Megan swallowed hard. Her body hummed like a plucked guitar string at the heat in his eyes, her nipples tightened and her sex pulsed in time with her heartbeats. When every reaction to him blazed across her face, how could she pretend there wasn’t an element