Jaegar's pulse quickened, his trousers suddenly feeling tighter.
He smiled, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Megan, I—"
"Shh," she cut him off, pressing a finger to his lips.
Her touch was warm, her nail painted a deep crimson. "Don't overthink it, kid. Just come inside." She turned, her hips rolling as she sauntered into the house, leaving the door ajar.
Jaegar hesitated for half a second before following her, his sneakers scuffing against the hardwood floor of her living room. He wasn't sure he should be spending time here, leaving his mom. But his other hard head led the way for him inside.
The place was pure vintage: a floral couch with too many throw pillows, a bulky TV playing a show, and the faint smell of vanilla candles.
Megan didn't stop until she reached the staircase, glancing over her shoulder with a smirk that promised trouble. "Upstairs," she said, her voice a sultry command.
