Justice Mine: a Base Branch Novel by Megan Mitcham Page B

his outlook on life should’ve been rockets and race cars, but guilt shadowboxed his heart. And that pissed him off. He had no cause for angst. His hands had stayed folded over his chest like a good boy.
    The keys jangled as he slipped them from his jeans and inserted the correct one into the lock. Millimeter by millimeter he turned the mechanism to keep the smack out of the retracting bolt quiet. When he’d left, Magdalena had been sleeping like a dead bird stuck to the front of someone’s windshield. Her arms and legs spread out to all corners of the mattress. Just thinking about it brought the smile back to his lips.
    He eased the door open and stopped dead in the entrance. Magdalena curled on the floor in an inside out ball. Her belly button winked at the ceiling while her legs and arms tucked beneath her back, touching each other in a straining angle. This left her full breasts pointing toward the closet and threatening to fall out of her skimpy tank onto her neck. His lips both tucked into his mouth and he bit down to keep from laughing or running over to suckle the two erect nipples poking the fabric of her shirt.
    “What are you doing?” he asked after collecting his wits.
    Her head snapped to the door and he feared it might fall over at that angle. She wiggled her feet from where they rested under her long blonde hair. Her arms moved from compressed V’s to L’s and she kicked off the ground, raising her ass and legs into the air. Magdalena held the pose while he picked his jaw off the floor, closed the door, and set the groceries on the counter. Then she folded over onto her toes and stood.
    Sweat beaded on her forehead. Her face and bountiful chest flushed from exertion, but her breath came slow and steady. Palms together and fingers toward the sky, she bowed her head. Her loose hair framed her face as she turned and flashed him a radiant smile.
    “Trying to keep fit,” she said in answer.
    “I know a better way,” he blurted. Dumb ass.
    Magdalena’s brow quirked and she investigated him. Her eyes searched his face then traveled down his body, which responded to her attention. A wave of heat rolled over his skin and it had nothing to do with the rising temperatures on the London sidewalks. It had everything to do with the pursed lips and scorching stare across the room.
    She winked at him, thieving his signature move. “All right.” She walked to him, her gate even and the swing of her hips determined.
    Every nerve in his body screamed for him to take her. To grab two handfuls of her full ass and hoist her onto his erect penis. To coil a hand in her hair, holding her just where he needed her, while he pumped into her slick pussy. To drive her over the top until she screamed his name and moaned her pleasure. Until his own climax dragged him to the ground with sweet repletion.
    Law shoved his fists into his pockets as she stopped a mere foot away. Her scent crowded his air, spurring his hard-on to unseen heights. The damn thing nearly peeked out the waist of his jeans, challenging her to a winking contest. When was he going to learn to keep his trap shut around Magdalena Wells. She didn’t frighten like he’d expected her to. Sure, last night she’d been scared when things got buggered up, but that was understandable. Unlike with other women, his full-on cocky self-preservation techniques had the opposite of their intended effect.
    On bare feet she kicked a hip to the side and sized him up. “All bluster, that one,” she said with a pointed finger and an incline of her head. She made a little sound with her mouth and turned away.
    He caught her by the arm like he’d done in the loo the night before, only this time his hold had teeth. She stopped with a jerk, but she didn’t turn.
    “I’m sorry. I…I can’t.” His words sounded hollow. Because they were a lie. He could. He was just the biggest kind of coward. One who judged other people, his best friend, when he couldn't turn the light on