Chapter 22

• Megan looked at the driver, but he didn’t answer. He was already scoping the hailing hands along her block, searching for his next fare. She nearly collided with an eager woman in a pink trench coat, trying to crowd into the cab before she’d left it, and blindly speed-walked into her building. The doorman greeted her, the older man who reminded her of her great-grandfather, and she forced herself to mumble an inquiry about his grandkids. He beamed, and she suffered a five-minute response before escaping into the elevator.
• Once inside, she sagged against the wall and squeezed her pussy again. Still raging. Still insanely wet and aching. The climb of the elevator took an eternity. Finding her keys was a struggle. Rushing out of the elevator and onto her floor should have been a sweet relief, but it wasn’t.
• Relief shattered in fragments as soon as she saw Emily huddled in her doorway, a tiny duffel bag at her feet. Fuck.