Chapter 28 The Delivery Guy (2)

I stood there in her kitchen, the package I’d dropped off plopped on the counter like some forgotten prop in a scene I didn’t sign up for. The place sparkled—stainless steel gleaming, white tiles spotless, all that suburban dream shit—but it didn’t feel tame. Not with her leaning against the island, that silk robe slipping just enough to tease a sliver of black lace bra hugging her tits. She’d tossed her name out casual as hell—Lila—like it was no big deal, but the way she eyed me said this was anything but. She was playing me, and I fucking knew it. “Long day?” she asked, voice thick with honey as she twirled a strand of that messy brunette hair. I nodded, throat dry, trying to keep it pro.