Page 18 of Robbin’ the Rich

“Hm.” I looked out the window innocently. “Maybe I’m plotting your murder instead.”

“I knew the nun costume was a trap.”

I laughed softly.

Then, at a red light, his hand settled lightly against my thigh. Nothing dramatic, just warm fingers against fishnets. But the spark that shot through me nearly stole my breath anyway. Jesus. I hadn’t even kissed him yet. And somehow that made everything worse… or better. It was definitely hotter.

Micah’s thumb brushed once against my leg, subtle enough that he could pretend it was accidental if he wanted. It absolutely wasn’t.

I looked over at him slowly. His jaw tightened slightly when he realized I noticed. For all the flirting and easy confidence, there was real restraint there too, like he was trying very hard not to push.

That settled something nervous low in my chest. I relaxed back into the seat slightly, pulse humming warm beneath my skin.

Okay.

Yeah.

I was very excited to see where tonight went.

4

MICAH

The closer we got to Robin’s apartment, the more the stage-confidence adrenaline started wearing off. Which was deeply inconvenient, because ten minutes ago, I’d been onstage flirting with her through an amplifier feeling smooth and charming and generally in control of my life.

Now?

Now I was driving through quiet streets at midnight realizing I was about to go home with the woman I’d been low-key obsessed with for months.

They were different emotional experiences entirely.

Robin gave directions from the passenger seat while I tried very hard to act normal. Which was becoming difficult every time I glanced at her legs in fishnets. Or remembered she’d invited me home completely sober. Or remembered she’d looked at me like she wanted to climb me in the parking lot.

Honestly, my heart rate was becoming medically concerning.

“You okay over there, Father?” Robin asked, amusement threading through her voice.

“Fantastic. Totally normal.”

“You’re gripping the steering wheel like it insulted your mother.”

“I’m focused on safe driving.”

“Hm.”

I pulled into an apartment parking lot and cut the engine. For one second neither of us moved. The charged tension from the car folded tighter in the sudden quiet. Robin turned toward me slowly, dark lipstick slightly smudged from her drink earlier. My brain briefly stopped functioning again. Then she smiled faintly like she knew exactly what she was doing to me, which she probably did.

“Come on,” she said softly.

I followed her upstairs, trying not to stare at the way her hips swayed with every step. That skirt was so short that if she were to bend over at all I would see whatever she had on underneath. That thought had me getting hard in the hallway, so I looked away with a hard swallow.

Her apartment sat on the second floor at the end of the hallway. Robin unlocked the door and pushed it open, then glanced back at me.

“Welcome to my extremely suspicious nun lair.”

I laughed under my breath and stepped inside.

The apartment wasn’t overly decorated, but it felt lived in. Bookshelves lined one wall packed with horror novels, finance books, roller derby trophies, and what appeared to be several organized storage bins. A leather jacket hung over the couch beside a fuzzy blanket. Framed art prints mixed with gaming posters and photos of her with the Reapers.