He couldn’t possibly know that.
Could he?
29
uncross
Liam
She looks suspicious, but stands anyway, sashaying that full ass down the hall behind me.
I look to the ceiling once again. Praying for patience isn’t working… that much I know. I make sure the doors are locked and shut off all the lights. I turn on the microwave light though. She tends to do that on most nights.
I grab my laptop and head back down the hall.
My earlier perusing means I know her guest bedroom has no furniture in it. She has a queen-sized mattress in her bedroom, giving the room an overall larger feeling than my own which has a king. Hers has pillowy covers as opposed to my heavier, denser ones. We’ll have to figure this out.
“Do you have a side?” I ask through the bathroom door as the water runs.
“Uh?”
Oh good, we’re back to her answering questions with questions.
“Left or right?”
“From the foot or the head?”
A smile escapes me on that one. Only her mind would ask that kind of question.
“Either.”
“Left from the foot. Right from the pillows.”
“Thanks for the clarification, Wifey.”
“My pleasure, William.”
If the woman speaks about pleasure too much, I’m going to cross a line I can’t uncross. My resolve is being whittled away moment-by-moment. Day by day.
Hell, it wasn’t twenty-four hours ago when she played with my beard and kissed me. Fuck if that didn’t take all the discipline I had not to roll her onto her back, part her thighs, and sink inside her.
Deductibles. Marital arrangements. My nieces and nephew. My father.
That does it.
Erection gone. I look down, wondering if my dick has turtled itself inside me. Seamus Murphy has that effect on me. He’s the ultimate tool to kill anything good.
Speaking of…
Me: Did you talk to Ayla and Cian?
Christian: Ayla’s on board. I’ll reach out to Cian tomorrow.
Me: If Ayla’s on board, Ci will be too.
There’s no response from my brother-in-law. None is required.
I check the cameras around our units noting nothing out of the ordinary. I empty my pockets onto the nightstand on the right side, from the foot as Lorien calls it. I kick off my shoes and socks, drop my pants atop them, and am grabbing my shirt from between my shoulder blades when the woman in question walks out of her bathroom, rubbing lotion or something down the column of throat.
