“Wow,” I managed. “You’re even grumpier than yesterday, and that’s saying something.”
She stirred the mug’s contents with enough force to create a tiny whirlpool, simultaneously attempting to slice my face open with her stare.
Come on, Dakota. Just one little sip.
Look at her. The way she was concentrating on stirring her coffee, her tongue darting out slightly to wet her lips. My groin liked that a little too much.
“You look like a bear who got woken up from hibernation early and wants to commit mass murder for revenge.”
“Screw you, Pierce.”
There’s my girl.
The way she said my name, all venom and heat, shouldn’t have been sexy. But somehow, when Dakota told me to go to hell, it sounded like an invitation.
“Maybe you should go back to bed,” I suggested, leaning back in my chair. “Sleep off the jerk hangover.”
The image of her going back to bed—specifically my bed—flashed through my mind again. Of me following her there, pinning her against the mattress, showing her exactly how much her grumpy morning attitude affected me.
“Gosh, you are just the funniest man I’ve ever heard in my life.” She sat down across from me. “I’ll be out of your hair within the hour.”
That got my attention.
“I thought you were staying home to film content today.”
“Change of plans. I’m squeezing something in before that. I have to leave in—” Her eyes landed on the clock and flew open wide. She shot out of her chair like she’d been launched from a cannon. “What the hell?”
The sudden movement made the hem of her shorts ride up, revealing a strip of toned thigh that I wanted to trace with my tongue.Focus, Pierce. Focus on the prank, not on how badly you want to taste her skin.
“Problem, Sunshine?”
Her mouth dropped open. “I didn’t hit snooze. I came out as soon as my alarm went off.”
“Late for a meeting?”
“I’m going to visit Knox today.”
I set my phone down, suddenly serious. “You’re going to the prison?”
“Damn it, I had my whole day planned out down to the minute.” She ran a hand through her messy hair, and I tried not to notice how the gesture made her breasts swell.
The way she moved, all frustrated energy and unconscious sensuality, was driving me insane. I wanted to grab her wrist, pull her closer, show her exactly what kind of trouble that restless energy could get her into.
“Why are you going to visit Knox?”
“He’s my brother.”
“I’m aware. I meant, why today?” It was obvious this was last minute, and Dakota Blackwood didn’t do last-minute anything.
She sank back into her seat, seeming to accept the loss of twenty-seven minutes in her perfectly calibrated schedule. I could practically see her mentally reshuffling everything to accommodate this “mistake.”
“If we’re about to become anitcouple with people following us around, I really don’t want them trailing me to the penitentiary.”
She raised her cup for her first sip—finally, sweet vindication—but before it reached her lips, realization dawned on me.
“Your followers don’t know your real name is Dakota Blackwood. Or that Knox is your brother. In prison for murder.”
She paused, cup halfway to her mouth, staring at the dark liquid.
