Free Life Before Damaged, Vol. 1 by H.M. Ward Page A

dangling off the edge and he’s standing close enough for me to feel the heat radiating off of his body. I’m still trying to catch my breath as he dips down to look at me.
    “Hey, I didn’t think I’d set you off like that. Do you want me to call Logan back?” His voice is once more full of concern.
    “You didn’t. It’s not you.” I snap at him, and he smiles faintly.  
    He lifts his palms toward me. “Sorry, I was teasing. I didn’t mean for you to choke up a lung. Are you sure you’re okay?”
    Our eyes lock and my stomach fills with something light. It’s as if the air around us is charged and tugging us together. The thought scares the crap out of me. I can’t like him. He’s an asshole. But he’s not. That’s the problem. There are two Pete Ferros, the charming man in front of me now and the crude fuckaholic.
    Pressing my lips together, I look away, breaking the moment. “No, it’s okay. I should be fine now. Thanks.”  
    Pete offers a shy smile. His words from earlier keep nagging at me. What if I do have it all wrong? What if sex isn’t an expression of love, but just a primal bodily need meant to be satisfied, like hunger? Dammit. Now he’s got me questioning myself.  
    “Lust and love can coexist.” My voice is firm, certain.
    “When you have proof, feel free to show me.” The topic is closed now, like one of his old books.
    The atmosphere in the room has gotten so tense with anticipation, you’d need an axe to cut through it.  
    I squirm on the desk and clear my throat while pointing at the desktop. "Just a quick question. I’m a little worried about my health after sitting on this desk. When you've had guests of the female variety over, do you disinfect this desk when you're done, uh, entertaining them on it?" I scrunch my nose to accentuate my disgust and mock-shudder. “Because I don’t see any Lysol around. Gotta know if I need a cootie shot.”
    Pete’s mouth quirks up into a half grin, and he shakes his head. When he opens his mouth to say something, I cut him off. "No way. Wait! Let me guess!"  
    I put a finger up so that he doesn't interrupt me, and cross my legs while tossing my hair dramatically behind my shoulders.  
    Putting on a straight face, I’m going for alpha-male serious as I stare up at him from under my lashes. Pete looks amused as I try to do my best impersonation of a dark and brooding man, my voice husky and low, "This study is my sacred place, my sanctuary. I never bring women in this room, you are the first. All those other women? They are insignificant. They have only seen my bedroom. That is where I fuck them thoroughly and hard. You, are special." I can't make it to the end without laughing. I break character as I reach the part about the bedroom.  
    Smiling, Pete applauds my performance, so I take a small bow atop the desk, grinning.  
    "Impressive but wrong. If you must know, I never bring any women home at all. Laugh all you want, but you’re the first."  
    "Oh man, so is there nothing sacred, then? Have I made you break your Golden Rule? How does it go? Is it something like, Thou shalt not bring forth wenches and strumpets in thy sanctuary? Well, lucky for you, I'm neither a wench nor a strumpet. But still,” I place my hand in front of his face as if I’m holding a microphone and I’m a reporter interviewing him “Mr. Ferro, inquiring minds want to know, are there any rules that you haven’t broken yet, be it moral, social, personal or legal?"  
    He chuckles and pushes my fake microphone hand away. Flicking back his head he sends wet strands of brown hair flying back. “Actually, if you must know, there is one last personal rule. And I'll never break that one." He rocks back and forth on his heels, with an air of arrogance that is just begging to be egged on.
    "Really? And what would that rule be, Mr. Ferro, and does it involve another man and your ass?" I put my microphone hand back in front of his face.  
    Pete makes a tsk, tsk