My Landlord's Midnight Lips - Chapter 5: Chapter 5
You are reading My Landlord's Midnight Lips, Chapter 5: Chapter 5. Read more chapters of My Landlord's Midnight Lips.
I stumbled backward, my voice sharp with warning. "Take one more step and I swear I'll scream this whole building down."
The man threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Easy there, sugar. Just messing with you—no need to get all worked up." He plopped into the armchair with exaggerated nonchalance.
His sudden shift put me on edge. I kept my distance, arms crossed tight over my chest.
Noticing my hesitation, he adopted a wounded puppy look. "Sophia, I'm a damn fool. Women don't usually get under my skin, but you?" He whistled low. "Took one look and lost all common sense. Knew you were married, but hell—couldn't help myself. That's why I acted like such a jackass last night... and why I couldn't stay away today."
With a dramatic flourish, he peeled three grand from his money clip and slapped it on the coffee table. "Let's call this my idiot tax. Water under the bridge, yeah? Scout's honor—no more funny business."
He sounded almost convincing.
Truth be told, I wasn't looking for drama either.
And that thick stack of bills? Couldn't ignore that.
Daniel barely scraped together five hundred a month.
With me between jobs?
That cash meant breathing room.
"Better keep your word," I warned, snatching up the money. "Next time I'm dialing 911 before you can blink."
The creep actually had the nerve to chuckle. "Wouldn't dream of it, darlin'. This cowboy's learned his lesson."
I shot him my best death glare. "And cut the sweetheart crap."
Still... something traitorous fluttered in my stomach.
God, I hated myself for that.
"Crystal clear." He gestured to the thermal container. "Now eat up before your soup goes cold."
Damn if he didn't come prepared—even had proper silverware tucked inside.
For a predator, he played considerate disturbingly well.
With the tension diffused and my wallet heavier, my appetite roared back.
The turtle soup? Legitimately incredible.
Between bites, I caught him watching me like some creepy Renaissance painting.
"Let me wash this," I muttered, bolting for the kitchen.
But as I scrubbed, fire licked through my veins.
By the time I returned the container, my hands shook.
His smirk told me everything. "Leaving? Now? When you're like this, sugarplum?"
The room tilted. That bastard drugged me.
"Get... out..." The words came out slurred.
He caught my wrist, pulling me flush against him. "Why fight what you clearly want?"
The man threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Easy there, sugar. Just messing with you—no need to get all worked up." He plopped into the armchair with exaggerated nonchalance.
His sudden shift put me on edge. I kept my distance, arms crossed tight over my chest.
Noticing my hesitation, he adopted a wounded puppy look. "Sophia, I'm a damn fool. Women don't usually get under my skin, but you?" He whistled low. "Took one look and lost all common sense. Knew you were married, but hell—couldn't help myself. That's why I acted like such a jackass last night... and why I couldn't stay away today."
With a dramatic flourish, he peeled three grand from his money clip and slapped it on the coffee table. "Let's call this my idiot tax. Water under the bridge, yeah? Scout's honor—no more funny business."
He sounded almost convincing.
Truth be told, I wasn't looking for drama either.
And that thick stack of bills? Couldn't ignore that.
Daniel barely scraped together five hundred a month.
With me between jobs?
That cash meant breathing room.
"Better keep your word," I warned, snatching up the money. "Next time I'm dialing 911 before you can blink."
The creep actually had the nerve to chuckle. "Wouldn't dream of it, darlin'. This cowboy's learned his lesson."
I shot him my best death glare. "And cut the sweetheart crap."
Still... something traitorous fluttered in my stomach.
God, I hated myself for that.
"Crystal clear." He gestured to the thermal container. "Now eat up before your soup goes cold."
Damn if he didn't come prepared—even had proper silverware tucked inside.
For a predator, he played considerate disturbingly well.
With the tension diffused and my wallet heavier, my appetite roared back.
The turtle soup? Legitimately incredible.
Between bites, I caught him watching me like some creepy Renaissance painting.
"Let me wash this," I muttered, bolting for the kitchen.
But as I scrubbed, fire licked through my veins.
By the time I returned the container, my hands shook.
His smirk told me everything. "Leaving? Now? When you're like this, sugarplum?"
The room tilted. That bastard drugged me.
"Get... out..." The words came out slurred.
He caught my wrist, pulling me flush against him. "Why fight what you clearly want?"
End of My Landlord's Midnight Lips Chapter 5. Continue reading Chapter 6 or return to My Landlord's Midnight Lips book page.