“Fuckingfine.” He flips his wrist. “Go home. Sounds like she might need some company. We’ll pick this up tomorrow.”
Ryder snaps his laptop closed when I’m already halfway across the room, one task in mind: get my girl a burger.
***
My foot taps against the tiled floor of a greasy fast-food joint.
They’re taking too long.
Or maybe my patience is gone after a day of walking around with a semi-hard dick, haunted by the image of Leilani licking sauce off her fingers.
The mouthwatering smell of grilled meat and spices doesn’t help, reminding me I forgot to eat all day while daydreaming about Leilani.
Twenty minutes later, I unlock my apartment, anticipation and excitement taking center stage.
“Hey!” I call out, closing the door behind me.
No response, other than the low hum of the vacuum cleaner. I round the corner, halting mid-step, my pulse kicking up.
Leilani’s on all fours, ass high, shoulders and head buried under the couch. Her leggings stretch indecently over her curves, outlining everything I shouldn’t be staring at.
Goddamn it. I saw a movie just like this. Though, if memory serves, the girl was stuck head-first in a washing machine, not under the couch.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter, grinding my teeth. “Leilani!”
She startles, head hitting the underside of the couch before she backs out slowly, powering off the vacuum with a click. There’s dust in her hair and a bright smile on her lips. I guess she doesn’t realize how fucking pornographic she looks on her knees.
“Hey! I found this.” She waves a crumpled receipt. “Do you need it?”
“What are you doing?”
“Oh, I’m knitting, can’t you tell?” She stands, dusting off her oversized sweater. “I’m cleaning, Mr. Maddox. There were three dead bugs there, too.”
“Whyare you cleaning? You’re my guest, not my maid.”
“Do you think I’m doing a bad job...?” She crosses her arms, chin tipping up with that stubborn spark I absolutely adore.
“What? No.”
“Because I wasn’t allowed to doanythingfor years, Koby, so you better not take this away from me or we’ll have a problem.”
I’m easily a foot taller than her, trained to break men without breaking a sweat, and somehow, I think she could end me.
My cock twitches at the thought.
“Okay, you win.” I present the takeout bag like a peace offering. “I’ve got the heart attack you ordered. Double the meat, triple the cheese, and enough sauce to paint the kitchen.”
Her face lights up, annoyance dissolving into gleeful softness. She jumps forward, flinging her arms around my neck, her little body pressing against mine.
“You remembered!”
The hug lasts mere seconds, but ruins me all the same. Her hair tickles my jaw, her breasts press against my chest, and fuck if that’s not the highlight of my year.
“Of course I did.”
My brain short-circuits when she stamps a chaste kiss on my cheek. Before I can recover, she tears the bag out of my hand, heading for the kitchen.
I’m slower to follow, another unwanted fantasy forming. I want to chase her. Slam her against the counter so I can feel her mouth on mine. My brain replays that featherlight peck in a loop, exaggerating and stretching it into something deeper, wetter, something it wasn’t.
