See Me .(27)

“Sean?” She wasn’t sure if her words were slurring because of the fruity drinks or her exhaustion. Probably a little of both. “Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”

The massaging touch moved up to swirl little circles against the nape of her neck, right where it was always sore from looking at a computer screen all day. “Women don’t really…like me. I mean, they like to look at me, but they don’t like me. Know what I mean?”

“Mmm.” She could feel her heavy lids closing. God, if only she could stay awake long enough to talk some more. His voice was nice. “Your…voice…Sean.”

“Shh, go to sleep.”

“But…I…like…you.”

The last thing she heard was the quiet click of the lamp’s tiny knob.



SEAN ROLLED OVER, away from a hot Abigail. The heat from her skin radiated through the flimsy tank top like one of those heaters he used on a job site in the winter. Her lush body barely stirred when he gently squeezed the slope of her hip. God, he wanted to pull her against his cock, grind against her round ass until he came all over the fairy cartoon character on her panties.

Abigail’s dog lifted her little head and peered up at him. The sight was funny. In the shadowed light from the TV, she looked like she was smiling. Without a doubt, the stupidest thing he could’ve done was bring her home. The way she’d plopped down on the floor made him want to take care of her. He didn’t know what it was like to be drunk, but he imagined it felt pretty out of control. His foster dad was crazy when he was knee-deep in the bottle.

Sean scrubbed the back of his neck and gave Penelope a scratch behind one ear. “I’m going to go get a drink, little lady. Take care of her until I get back.” The pup seemed to get what he was saying and curled up tighter against Abigail’s leg.

He padded into the kitchen. After checking a couple of cabinets, he found a glass. Her fridge was nice, had a filter on the front and everything. His didn’t even have an ice maker. No big deal. Two ice trays and he was set. He stuck the glass under the filter and filled it. Her small apartment was nice, cozy. His was small and hadn’t eaten his entire paycheck when he worked construction. Now, with the four videos under his belt, he could fill his cabinets with more food than he ever had. Food was worth more than space at this point in his life. God, he hoped life wouldn’t always seem so hard.

The small kitchen led into the dining area, and from there the living room was separated by a brightly colored rug. He walked over to the modest-sized dining table. It was twice the size of his. He ran his hand over the top of one of the chairs. How many people had sat at her table? She had a lengthy list of family. Well, maybe not that long, but a hell of a lot longer than his.

A bank of heavy beige drapes hung in front of a set of french doors. He tipped back the curtains to look outside. A wrought-iron balcony overlooked a large back parking lot. Outside, among the crumbling asphalt, railroad ties had been stacked to make large botanical boxes. Some were planted with roses, while others had small trees growing out of them.

Inside an urban complex, she’d found a piece of softness. Could she look past the urban in him?

“No! No! Get off me! Pl-Please! No!”

The glass shattered on the hardwood floor before he even started into a dead run. By the time he covered the short distance to her bedroom, she already had the covers strewn all over the bed and was thrashing her legs, trying to kick the rest of the sheet off her feet.

“Abigail! It’s okay! You’re safe! Abigail!” God, what the hell? Penelope huddled in the corner, whining. If he didn’t do something quick, she was going to toss herself right off the damn bed.

He climbed onto the mattress, not ducking enough. The back of her hand caught him across the lip. He’d taken worse. “Abigail, wake up!”

“D-Don’t k-kill me! I’m dead! I’m dead!”

Sean didn’t know what else to do. He straddled her twisting waist to stabilize her before grabbing her arms. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her or put a bruise on that creamy skin. “Abigail, I got you. Shh, come on. It’s me, Sean. You’re not dead, baby. You’re not dead.”

She was strong for such a lush little thing. He finally hooked his legs over her knees so she didn’t knee him in the dick and hugged her arms against her sides. “Abigail, baby, wake up. Come on.” The soft cotton of her tank top rode up her rib cage.

Sean felt his insides liquefy. He wanted to puke but couldn’t. Wanted to scream the fuck out but couldn’t do that either. “That’s it, breathe with me.” The parallel scars went from her hip all the way to her belly button. That dimple was the end point for two slashes of white that marred her otherwise perfect skin. Tiny speckles of white dotted each side of the scars. Each perfectly spaced. She’d been sewn up. He knew the sight well. He had several places on his own body from multiple trips to the ER. Two caused by his foster dad, one by his mom’s “friend,” and two by fighters who’d stuffed something sharp between their damn knuckles. “That’s it. Slow down.” As he struggled to keep his voice calm, her struggle to twist off the bed eased.