Page 31 of Risk

My girl kisses me with her whole body. I can’t explain it, but that’s how it feels. She’s heavy against me, her lips supple as they press to mine. Her arms wind around my neck and tits push against my chest. We inhale the same breath while our tongues twirl around each other.

I swear I’m floating.

Then she breaks away slowly, shaking her head. “This is crazy.”

Not gonna argue with that. “But it’s fun, right?”

“Yeah.” Her cheeks redden when she giggles. “Okay, Buster. We have one more house to clean.”

“Then dinner,” I re-confirm.

“Yup. But I pick the place.”

My victory smile goes a mile wide. “Whatever you want, Princess.”

Chapter 11

Leah

The third cleaning job is a disaster and by the time we finish, it’s late and I’m exhausted.

Mason loads my cart and looks like he barely broke a sweat. He’s rolled the sleeves of his white shirt up, displaying yummy forearms, and his neatly slicked back hair is all disheveled. Strands have fallen into his eyes, making me bite back the urge to run my fingers through it.

He stretches, lifting his arms over his head, and groans. “How the hell do you clean like this every damn day? My arms feel like rubber noodles.”

I pass him a water out of my little cooler. “You get used to it.”

“I can’t believe this place was such a wreck.”

“The family bought the house to have somewhere to stay when visiting their son in college. He uses it way more often than they do and throws massive parties here. I’d bet ten bucks his parents will be arriving tomorrow morning.” Saying that much about another client feels like I’ve violated the terms of my contract with the cleaning service, but oh well. Mason just polished their sink drains and did a hell of a job getting dust bunnies and condom wrappers from under the beds, so he should at least get something for it.

“I honestly do not miss college.”

Me either. “Where did you go?”

“Yale.”

“Fancy.”

Mason arches a brow. “Is that code for boring, expensive, and pretentious?”

“Nope. Just fancy. I went to Penn State.” It might just be my imagination, but I swear it looks like he’s trying to hide his surprise. Standing up, I brush off my shirt and grab the cart so we can finally leave. “What? Can’t house cleaners have a college degree?”

He stares at me for a few heartbeats, all playfulness gone. “Why do you do that, Leah?”

“Do what?”

“It’s like you keep digging around, poking to see if I’ll say something rude about your line of work.”

His accusation is like a punch in the gut. He’s right. I have no idea why I keep doing it when he hasn’t once looked at me like I’m gum on his shoe.

“Sorry,” I say, quietly.

Mason grabs my hand, pulling me towards him. “Don’t be sorry. Be proud.”

“I am proud.” It’s just that sometimes I feel judged for my choices. And I’m no longer talking about cleaning, but he probably doesn’t realize that.

“You’re a hard worker.”