Free Breathe Me In by Erin McCarthy Page B

I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t. It didn’t mean that I wasn’t totally nasty, down and dirty hot for her, because I was. But I couldn’t do her without being a little bit curious what was going on in her life and without wanting to get to know her. So while I seriously doubted my ability to stay platonic if she showed up, I knew I was going to make an effort to find out more about Anya.
    Like maybe at least her last name.
    Mentally giving myself an eye roll I decided I needed to give up on sleep and get up and work out. There was no point in lying there acting like a fourteen year girl wondering if Anya would show or not and if I should text her. I carried a firearm, for chrissake. I needed to be a little less freaking tender.
    When the knock on the door came at seven minutes to eight, I was sweaty and breathing hard, having gone for a run then zipped through some strength training in my apartment. My shirt was off and I grabbed it to both wipe my forehead with it and pull it on before answering the door.
    “Oh. Hello,” Anya said, eyeing me with naked interest. “Sweaty already?”
    “I was working out. Good morning.” She had actually showed up. I wasn’t sure if she would or not and I tried not to smile. Yeah, I was glad to see her. “Do you want some coffee while I jump in the shower?”
    Anya looked mischievous and it was a look I both found sexy as hell and scary. She was wearing a plain white shirt and leggings, the kind that showed every inch of her from the waist down. I could see where the cotton hugged her crotch and displayed that slight indentation between her lips and I wanted to taste her, determined she wouldn’t deny me again. What girl didn’t like oral? Though Anya wasn’t like other girls. She was a different animal altogether.
    “Do you need your back washed?” she asked, stepping inside and dropping a pair of keys on the table I had by the door, which I found interesting because I could have sworn she had said she didn’t have a driver’s license.
    Being washed by her was tempting. But not what I had in mind. “I can think of other things you can rub besides my back.” I moved towards Anya. She backed up, expression wary.
    “What are you doing?” she asked when I reached for her and pulled her into my arms.
    “I’m giving you a good morning kiss.”
    “That’s weird,” was her opinion on that. Her body was stiff in my arms and she didn’t embrace me in return.
    I hadn’t been expecting her to be cuddly so it didn’t necessarily bother me. I would get her to let go eventually, to put down her guard with me. I shouldn’t care and I shouldn’t bother but I did and I would. I was just drawn that way and Anya had gotten under my skin hardcore. It might take time, but I was determined. Whether we had a relationship or not, if we were getting naked together, I had the right to be affectionate. “Deal with it,” I told her.
    When I kissed her, she stayed stiff for a brief second, then she tried to skip straight from nothing to rough kissing, her hand skimming over my cock, but I wove my fingers through hers to hold her hand instead and kept my kiss light, seductive. She made a sound of irritation in the back of her throat and pulled away. There was fear in her eyes. She was afraid of me. Afraid to be anything other than angry. It was important to know that about her, to respect it.
    I shouldn’t care about coaxing her to trust me, but I did. I kissed her lightly again, squeezing her hand. “I’ll be out of the shower in three minutes.”
    “Take your time,” she said breezily. “I have some cleaning to do.”
    I hadn’t actually left the broken glass for her. That would make me a total douche. But if she wanted to putter around in my kitchen pretending to scrub surfaces, she could go for it.
    What I didn’t expect was that I would come out of the bedroom in sweats and find her in my kitchen washing dishes, totally one hundred percent naked. Holy shit. She had left her