Chapter 31: HANS: Chapter 32

When Cassandra lifts the key like she’s going to unlock her parents’ door, I make an executive decision and reach up, knocking on the door.

She pauses with the key in the air. “But I⁠—”

“I doubt your parents are expecting you to have a guest. I don’t really want to surprise them by just walking in.” I’m aware of the irony of feeling this way, but I don’t care.

Cassandra rolls her pretty eyes at me. “Oh my god. It’ll be fine.”

Before I can think better of it, I dart my hand up and grip her ponytail.

Her mouth pops open.

“Watch the attitude, Girl.” I give the command quietly, but there’s no mistaking my tone.

“Or what?” she breathes. “I don’t think your punishment worked last time.”

“No?” My cock starts to thicken. “I’m sure we can find your limit.”

She leans toward me, increasing the pull I have on her hair.

She presses her hands against my chest. “Promise?”

A low growl rumbles behind my ribs. “Cassandra.”

She keeps her eyes wide as she looks up at me. “You want to count to three again?”

I lower my face toward hers, then I hear a lock click open.

Releasing her ponytail, I straighten and face the door.

Cassandra is still turned toward me when her mother pulls the door open.

“Oh geez, did you lose your keys again?” Mrs. Cantrell asks her daughter.

I watch my neighbor’s flushed cheeks darken further with embarrassment as she shifts to face her mom.

“I didn’t lose my keys, thank you very much.” I love the sass in her voice. I hope she tries that tone on me soon.

“Then what are you—Holy hell!” Mrs. Cantrell slaps a hand to her chest when she notices me.

“Mom!” Cassandra sounds offended, and it takes all my effort not to laugh out loud.

Her mom runs her eyes up and down my form once before lowering her voice to her daughter. “Are you in trouble?”

Cassandra tips her head back and shakes her head.

“What?” Her mom defends her assumption. “He looks like security.”

“Someone called security?” an older male voice says from behind Mrs. Cantrell.

“No, Honey, it’s Cassie.”

An older man steps up beside his wife, filling the rest of the doorway.

Side by side, you wouldn’t mistake these two for anyone except Cassandra’s parents. All three of them are the exact same height. And even though Cassandra has the same hair as her mom, she gets her eye color from her dad.

“You in trouble, Cassie?” he asks.

Cassandra puts her hands up. “Oh my god, no one is in trouble.”

She’s barely finished speaking when her dad steps forward to pull Cassandra into a hug. But her hands are still up, so her arms get stuck between them.

“Hi, Dad,” she huffs good naturedly.

“Nice to see—” Just like his wife, Mr. Cantrell reacts with a jolt when he finally notices me. “Oh, Jesus!” He steps back from Cassandra and puts his hand to his chest.

Mrs. Cantrell gently smacks his arm. “That’s who I was talking about.”

Mr. Cantrell faces me. “Whatever it is, I’m sure she did it.”

“Dad!” Cassandra presses her hand against my side, trying to get me to move. “You know what? I think they’ve finally lost their minds. Let’s go back home.”

“Home?” her mom gasps. “You’re living with him?”

Cassandra stares up at me and whispers, “Help.”

“But you’re doing such a good job,” I whisper back.

The corner of her mouth twitches.

Then the door across the hall swings open.

“Is that my Cassie?” An ancient man steps into the hallway.

“Hey, Harold.” Cassandra lifts a hand and waves.

Unlike the Cantrells, Harold notices me immediately. “Well, well, well.” He folds his skinny arms across his chest. “You my competition, then?”

I dip my chin.

“You willing to fight for her?” He narrows his eyes, bunching his bushy brows on his forehead.

I make a show of clenching my right hand into a fist. “I’ve never punched a geriatric, but I’m not strictly against it.”

Harold grins widely. “I like you.” He leans to the side to look at Cassandra’s parents. “I like him.”

“We like him too,” Mrs. Cantrell replies, pretending they know who I am.

Cassandra snorts, and then something starts to beep inside the apartment.

“Okay, okay, everyone in.” Mr. Cantrell steps back from the door and waves us into their apartment. “That’s the egg bake.”

“I’ve got it,” Mrs. Cantrell calls over her shoulder as she hurries toward the kitchen.

“Alright, kids, take your shoes off, then come eat.” Cassandra’s dad follows after his wife, and I notice they’re wearing matching red slippers.

My body is still a bit sore from the last job, so it takes some work not to groan as I lower down to one knee and start untying my first boot.

Cassandra drops her purse onto the floor, then bends to untie her tennis shoes.

“They seem nice.” I can’t help myself.

We’re nearly eye level like this, so I can perfectly see the expression she gives me as she deadpans, “They seem insane.”

“That too.” I smirk, then switch so I’m on the other knee.

Cassandra shakes her head, moving to untie the other shoe. But as she does, she turns more of her back to me.

Bent at the waist, the back of her skirt has come up so far I can see the bottom half of her lacy white undies.

“That’s one, Butterfly.”

Cassandra turns her head toward me at my low words and sees where I’m looking.

She snaps to standing, smoothing her skirt down. “Sorry.”

My fingers itch to slide up the back of her bare thigh. To feel that lace under my hand. But I can’t right now. Because her parents are just feet away.

I stand and leave my boots next to her tennis shoes, the size difference as extreme as our height difference.

Before she can step away from me, I hook a finger in the front of her dress, holding her still. The warmth of her cleavage surges through my body.

“I swear, if you wear this dress out of the house and flash your sweet ass to anyone else like that…”

Cassandra shakes her head. “No. Never.”

Her chest rises with a deep inhale, and I have to force myself to step back.

I pull my finger free of her dress just before her dad sticks his head around the end of the short hall and tells us to hurry up.