He smirks. “Long enough to watch you shake your ass in the mirror.”
He looks sexy in his all-black suit—he really looks like a trained killer. He has a pocketknife through a green apple and takes a bite, chewing.
“Creep,” I say playfully.
“Slut,” he snaps back, smiling.
I grin and waltz up to him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, and I take a bite of the juicy apple. His body molds with mine. “Old fart. In the next year or two, I’m going to have to buy you a box of Depends.”
He gives me a belly-aching laugh. “Jailbait.”
“Funny, you weren’t saying that when I was sucking your dick earlier this morning before you went to work.”
He grips a fistful of my hair, pulls me back, and kisses me deeply. Everything about this man makes me melt like cheese. “I’ll say it with your mouth on my dick, and I’ll say it when my dick is in your pussy and asshole, my dirty jailbait.” Then he slaps my ass hard.
“I’m buying you a bar of soap for your dirty mouth.”
He nibbles on my neck, and his goatee tickles my skin, and I giggle.
The doorbell chimes, and I pull away. Nervousness burns in my chest.
“Too bad your friends are here—we could have had a quickie.”
He winks, then pulls off his shirt but doesn’t respond. His abs flex, chiseled and defined.
I shake my head and lick my lips. “One day, you can fuck me with this on.”
“I will, soon.” He slaps my ass again.
I yelp, and my flesh stings. “Viper, not too hard!”
“Go answer the door, and I’ll go change.”
The doorbell rings again, and I rush out of the bedroom and exhale, then turn the doorknob. Three people stand outside the door, two men and a woman. According to Viper, they are like family to him.
The dirty-blond-haired guy, I recognized from the bookstore—the one who sits at the coffee shop and reads a book but never buys it. The other man is about the same height as me—five-six or so—and he’s built like a linebacker. His dark green eyes give me an up-and-down look, and it gives me the chills. The hairs on the back of my neck stand, but not in a good way. Then the petite woman with light brown hair and chocolate eyes gazes up at me, and she folds her arms across her chest.
They are all dressed in designer clothes and look as if they drip with money. They bleed power and elegance.
“You must be Autumn. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” the woman says, her tone as light as a flower. “I’m Amelia.”
She appears around the same age as Viper, and her eyes are kind. Her expensive perfume invades my nostrils, and I grow shy, staring at her. Calling her gorgeous is an understatement—she’s far more beautiful than anyone I’ve ever seen.
“Yes, I am.”
“You sure are prettier than I thought, and young.” Her tone is as cool as peppermint.
I sidestep and let them stroll past me. Exhaling, I shut the oak door as nervousness bubbles in my chest.
The two men sit on the couch, and the maid, Teresa, pours them each a glass of red wine. When she offers me a glass, I kindly decline and perch on the recliner.
They speak among themselves, and I listen attentively as they talk about the upcoming football game in the fall. The other guy is quiet, broody, as if he has a lot on his mind. He is as good-looking as the blond guy—it’s the scars on his face that make him beautiful.
Are they skilled killers too? Does Viper work with them? I would ask, but if I tell them and they don’t know, then Viper might not trust me again.
My eyes snag onto the guy who sits at the bookstore. He had to have known who I was before I knew he knew Viper. He hasn’t been by in a long time, so I had assumed the books I recommended for him weren’t enough.
“What’s your name? Why did you sit at the bookstore and watch me?” I ask, folding my arms and crossing my left leg over my right.
