“Love you too,” I call as I walk through the salon.
With Everett being out, I take the opportunity to head to my apartment to grab a few extra things.
I can only assume that living in Everett’s fancy penthouse has helped me forget just how awful my place is, but I hate it even more than I used to. The damp smell is stronger than ever, and my stomach turns over as the door slams behind me, and of course, the music vibrates the walls.
As fast as I can, I grab everything I need, but before I walk out of my bedroom, my eyes lock on my nightstand.
My core tightens in desperate need for what lies inside that drawer.
Okay, no. That’s bullshit; it’s proven time and time again recently that it can’t hit the mark.
Maybe I need to order a new one.
Or maybe you just need Everett Donnelly’s dick…
Forcing that thought from my head, I rip the drawer open and wrap my fingers around my vibrator.
As I stuff it to the bottom of one of my bags, I tell myself that it’s for emergencies. Emergencies when Everett is out of the apartment. This thing isn’t overly quiet, and the last thing I need is him knowing what I’m up to.
With my body begging for me to make use of my not-so-little friend, I quickly scan my living area for anything else I might need before hightailing it out of there and back to the luxury of Everett’s apartment.
In contrast to my place, when I step inside and breathe in, it’s only the fresh scent of Everett that hits me, and there is nothing but blissful silence.
I take off toward my bedroom, but my steps falter when I find an open notebook on the kitchen counter with Everett’s messy scrawl written across it.
Would you rather be chased through a forest by a zombie or by a lion?
I frown as I read the question, my head spinning.
After a couple of seconds, I grab the pen.
A lion.
“Umm…” I tap the pen against the page as I think of another one to add.
Would you rather live on a boat or in a treehouse?
When I take off again, it’s with a smile. It’s amazing how much a place can make a difference in my mood.
I’m busy finding a home for all my things and planning a nice long soak in the tub when a loud knock fills the apartment.
I glance at the clock, and assuming he’s home early, I head for the front door.
“Hey, did you forget your—” My words die as I find a young man with messy curly hair, an unkept beard, and tired eyes. And thankfully, from the amount of research I’ve done over the past few weeks, I know exactly who it is.
He holds my eyes for a beat before glancing at the door I’m holding open, I assume double-checking the number.
A frown wrinkles his brow when he realizes he is at the right place.
“There’s a woman at Rett’s apartment,” he blurts, his eyes returning to me.
I look around him to see who he’s talking to, but there isn’t anyone else.
“Uh…hi,” I squeak, realizing that I probably shouldn’t have run out here and opened the door without at least looking first.
I might love it here, but this isn’t my home.
Suddenly, he thrusts his hand toward me. “Hi, I’m Hayden Monroe, one of Rett’s team?—”
