Not staged.
It’s like she has this quality that is simply her.
Real. Innocent. Sweet. And sassy, all in one super combination.
The kind of pretty that hits you out of nowhere and sticks.
Her lips part slightly, like she’s debating something—whether to trust me, maybe. Whether to tell me to get lost.
Honestly? She probably should.
Most women I know would’ve already told me to fuck off for getting this close.
But I don’t want that.
I don’t want her pushing me away.
I want her
I mean, I really want her.
I don’t have to grab my dick to know that I’m hard and ready. The realization lands hard and fast, sharper than anything I’ve felt in a long time.
And it’s—definitely new.
Clean.
Electric.
I can’t remember the last time I reacted to someone like this.
No pretense. No expectation. Just instinct.
Fuck.
Who is this woman?
“By the way, my name is David,” I tell her, because standing here staring at her like an idiot probably isn’t helping my case.
“David,” she repeats.
And I don’t know why, but I like the way it sounds coming from her.
Softer. Warmer. Like it might mean something.
And that is something I find irresistible.
“That’s right,” I say, dragging my attention—reluctantly—down to the oversized package still half inside her trunk. “You, uh, need help with that, linda?”
She bites her bottom lip, glancing back at it.
It’s big. Heavy. Wrapped in crinkled cellophane with a bright yellow bow that practically screams sunshine.
Like her.
So this is Hammonton, New Jersey?
Oh yeah. I definitely came to the right place.