Fall Guy (A Youngblood Book) by Reinhardt, Liz (knowledgeable books to read TXT) 📕

from my new place. She looks around sleepily and says, "It looks like the ghetto."

My laugh is nervous in my own ears. "I have to live on a pretty small amount of money for a while."

"Why didn't you just take the money your parents offered you?" she asks, no accusation in her voice.

I flip my eyes from my GPS to the half-falling-down street signs that mark the roads. "Youngblood money always comes with strings attached, Evan. You know that."

When we pull up at the apartment, she inhales in a sharp, worried breath. "Winch. Are you sure about this?"

I get out of the truck, walk around to open her door, and let her step into my arms. I kiss her forehead, then move my mouth down to her lips. "Just for a little while," I say, low, just for her ears. "Just til I get a good job. I'm gonna do it, you know. I'm gonna move on and up before you know it. I swear."

"I know that," she says, her lips close to mine. "I believe in you."

That's all I need to hear.

I keep those words in my head as we open the door to my apartment and notice the scuttle of small brown bugs. Evan screams and pushes me back out into the street and we drive to the closest hardware store and pick up roach spray, scrub brushes, rubber gloves, buckets, soap, a whole bunch of cleaners, and lots of bleach.

When we come back, Evan starts to go to work like a maniac, scrubbing and spraying every surface she can reach, opening all the windows, and double scrubbing when she's done. I bring in box after box and admire the sweet curve of her ass as she scrubs low down by the avocado fridge.

"Are you checking out my ass?" she asks over her shoulder.

I'm kneeling down to open a box, but I turn towards her. The place is so small, the kitchen is pretty much located in the living room, blocked by one long counter with chipped laminate. I move her way, until I'm right behind her, hands on her hips, bent low to kiss her neck. The sound of her moan rattles through me.

"I'm totally checking out your ass," I assure her. "I'm always checking you out."

She glances at me over her shoulder, her eyes wide and her lower lip caught between her bottom teeth. My hands go tight on her hips and I press closer to the curve of her ass.

"So, is all this 'woman scrubbing your house on her hands and knees' turning you on?" Her eyes narrow, and I see the spark of passion that I love so much in her.

"I like my woman to know her place," I tease, and, when she tries to turn and slap at me, I slide my hands up her shirt, along the soft, smooth skin of her stomach, and under the sweet swell of her tits. I lean over her, my chest pressed to her back, my lips brushing up and down her neck.

"You're a chauvinist pig," she says, her voice hitched on a gasp.

"I'm your chauvinist pig," I correct. "Would you like to christen this apartment with your chauvinist pig boyfriend?"

I pull down on the lacy fabric of her bra until her nipples poke out, hard under my fingers. I press tighter against her and she turns in my arms, kissing my mouth.

"This apartment is still filthy," she says, wrinkling her nose. "I'm not doing it on this floor."

Her hand runs down the front of my pants and rubs my dick through the fabric of my jeans. I grind my teeth and work my hands faster, unclasping her bra, pressing her shirt up, flicking open the button on her shorts and yanking the zipper down.

"There must be somewhere clean enough." I kiss her neck and down her shoulder, stretching her pressed-up shirt to the side.

"There's nothing, Winch. The only things I cleaned so far are the cabinets and the counter. We didn't even bring the mattress in or go over the bedroom at all."

Her body against mine makes my brain go cloudy, and all I can focus on is the word 'counter.' I lift her up so her legs are snug around my waist, and drop her on the scrubbed-down countertop.

"Winch," she whispers, glancing around and biting her lip. "We can't just do it on the counter."

I'm busy kissing her perfect neck, working her thin shirt over her head, throwing her bra to the side. "It's super clean," I answer. "I watched you scrub it down with, like, eight different cleaners."

"It's not the cleanliness thing. It's just...oh. Oh, please do that...again."

I'm not sure if she's talking about the way I just sucked her nipple into my mouth or the stroke of my thumb against the wet slide of her clit, but I do both again because she asked so sweetly and I love making her happy. She wraps her arms tight around my shoulders, moaning and breathing heavy for a minute, before she backs up and rips my shirt over my head, then reaches down to undo the button on my jeans, her breathing quick and raspy.

I pull my hand out from the leg of her shorts and she whimpers in protest. "I thought you didn't want to do this," I tease her.

She sucks a quick breath through her teeth and lifts her hips so I can slide her shorts and tiny thong down her legs.

"Um, shut up and ignore what I was saying." She shivers when her skin touches the countertop. "It's cold."

I pull her, naked and so damn beautiful, to the edge of the countertop and closer to me.

"No worries," I say low against her ear before I press a trail of sucking kisses down along her jaw. "I'll warm you up."

My hands run up her thighs, and she reaches down to grab my dick and pull with long, smooth strokes of her hand. I slide my fingers up until I'm in her, wet