Just A Woman (The Porter Trilogy Book 2) by Shannon Youngblood

my heart. My eyes finally settled on her, turned away from me, talking to someone I didn’t know. Her back was partially exposed, but hiding under a thin panel of sheer black lace. I scaled my way down her body, taking in her slightly smaller curves and the way her dress seemed to cling to every outline of her beautiful frame.
    The lace of the garment hung down to just below her knee but the black slip underneath stopped several inches above that, revealing her creamy thighs underneath the see-through material. My erection strained against my zipper, remembering those beautiful thighs wrapped around my waist, taking me into her very center. I let my thoughts float for just a moment longer before I regained my control and focused back on the object of my lust, and love.
    Although I made no sound and drew no attention to myself, I knew it wouldn’t take long for the static between us to reach her and for her to turn and face me. I immediately knew when that realization hit her because her back straightened in an almost painful way and she turned gracefully to scan the crowd. I stared at her, willing her to find my eyes, and I hoped my own pupils didn’t betray the lust I felt deep within me. It wasn’t the time or place, and I wished someone had told my cock that. 
    When her eyes landed firmly on mine, the emotion flaring within them made me internally shudder. I could feel the waves of pain, terror, love and remarkably, lust radiating off of her in waves, crashing in my direction. I could see the hesitation lingering within, and it took every ounce of my willpower to remain sitting and not rush her into my arms. I nodded at her and gave her a small smile. She nodded back and turned back around to the guests she had been previously talking with, but the tension never left her back and shoulders. Every few moments, I would catch her turning away from the crowd in front of her and innocently scanning the new arrivals, seemingly checking in on everyone but secretly meeting my eyes every time.
    After a short amount of time, the minister took his place at the podium in the front of the church and the mourners took their seats. Charlotte sat in the front pew with a highly distraught woman who I vaguely recalled as Dimitri’s fourth wife, Abigail. I noticed that Charlotte sat a person’s gap away from her, clearly not comfortable or close to the somber woman. Every few moments, Charlotte’s hands came up to dab a tissue at her leaking eyes and the need within me to comfort her grew to unsurmountable levels.
    When I felt like I couldn’t take anymore and I needed to either reach out to her or leave the uncomfortable temple of sorrows, Charlotte stood and walked to the podium, her piece of paper shaking in her hand. My heart dropped to the floor for her and I wished for the millionth time that day that I could absorb her pain and hold her until she was whole again.
    The crowd was eerily silent as she made her way up and took a stance behind the microphone. Her face was pale and, even from the back, I could see a bead of sweat forming on her forehead. With how vibrant and outgoing she was, I never pegged her for being scared of public speaking, but she looked as if she was going to be ill. Taking a deep breath, I watched as she looked up into the crowd and gave a shaky smile.
    “Thank you all for coming and celebrating the life of my dad, Dimitri Hightower. My father was, as most of you know, incredibly dedicated to his work. Not only was he highly talented, but he was an amazing employer and the proof can be found in most of you. My father was loved by so many of you and I know that this tragedy has hit you all just as hard as it has hit our family.
    Dimitri’s presence filled everyone here with warmth. I can’t express how many times he would tell me amazing stories of people from the highest management positions down to the hidden people in the mail rooms. He was always so proud of his staff, no matter their