“Dude. That’s how stalkers get in.” Coop frowns. “And burglars.”
It really says something about our lifestyle that stalkers came first.
The she-devil shrugs. “I knocked, but I guess you couldn’t hear me over the music.”
“What?” Coop shouts, cupping a hand around his ear.
“I said, I knocked but—” She cuts herself off, realizing he’s messing with her.
“You should’ve used the bell,” Reid suggests.
She presses her lips together and a beat passes before she answers. “I. Did.”
Next to me, Vaughn shifts uneasily and he opens his mouth to reply, but Coop is faster. “It didn’t ring.”
To her credit, she doesn’t make the same mistake twice.
“You should probably put in a maintenance ticket for that.” A wicked grin transforms her small mouth. “But in the meantime, maybe you couldquiet the fuck down?”
Coop’s eyes go wide and a ripple of laughter fills the room. Someone shouts “Dayum” and some other choice words are thrown around, but it’s all in good fun.
“It’s Saturday night,” Coop says, stretching the words for emphasis. Or maybe he’s drunk. It’s hard to say because the man loves fucking with people and the she-devil is making it too easy.
“So? I’m tired and I just want to crash.”
He smirks. “What are you, like seventy?”
She arches a brow and scans the crowded room, carefully avoiding my stare. “I know you’re all hotshot football players, but surely you have some common decency?”
She’s one to talk. What kind of person barges into a stranger’s house uninvited?
When no one responds—which is probably for the best—she stalks across the room and turns the speaker off, killing the music.
It’s so quiet I can actually hear my heart thundering in my chest.
Which is ridiculous.
The she-devil is hardly a threat. I’ve faced guys twice her size on the field. Ones determined to rip my head off.
Forget your head, that one will go straight for your balls.
It might be hot if she weren’t glaring daggers at me.
“Are we seriously taking orders from Sailor Moon?” an underclassman asks, breaking the silence.
The she-devil looks down, as if she’s completely forgotten what she’s wearing, and when she looks up again, her cheeks are scarlet.
My gaze dips to her pajamas. She’s wearing a white tank top with a blue and white ruffle around the neckline and a tiny pink bow between her breasts. The matching shorts have blue and white pinstripes and sheer blue ruffles around the leg openings. They’re short as hell and reveal miles of toned bronze skin. The girl might be tiny, but she’s fit as hell.
My cock stirs with interest because apparently, I’m a masochist now.
“How the hell do you know Sailor Moon?” Reid asks, turning to address the numbnuts who asked the question.
“Pornhub.”
The she-devil’s blush intensifies, spreading down her neck and over her chest, drawing my attention to the thin cotton covering her small breasts.
Fuuuck.
