I glance toward the view. “I knew exactly where I was.”
“In my bed.”
“Yeah.”
“With your dirty boots on my floor.”
“Didn’t hear you complain.”
She stretches slowly, and the sheet slides down her body like it’s trying to test my discipline. Lady doesn’t have to work hard to wreck a room. She just breathes and men start making promises they’ve got no business making. Her skin glows bronze in the morning light, smooth except where I marked her. A kiss at her shoulder. Fingers at her hip. Teeth at the side of her breast where she dared me not to.
I remember every one. Damn.
Her gaze follows mine and lands on the bite near her ribs.
“Proud of yourself?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“Caveman.”
“Biker.”
“Same disease, different vehicle.”
I almost smile.
That’s another problem.
Lady sees it too.
“What kind of vehicle does a caveman have?”
Her eyes sharpen, dark and amused, and she props herself up on one elbow. “You know, the ones with the feet holes.”
“The Flintstones?”
“Yeah,” she laughs and winks. “You’re that cute blond gringo one but with a Harley.”
The sheet slips lower. She lets it. Lady weaponizes skin the way other women weaponize tears. She knows exactly what she’s doing and does it anyway.
“Careful,” she says softly. “You almost looked happy.”
“I was thinking about traffic.”
“Liar.”
“Always.”
She reaches for me, nails dragging over my stomach where the sheet covers my hips. “Then lie closer.”
I catch her wrist before her hand gets where she’s aiming.
Her pulse jumps under my fingers. Her smile changes shape, turning slower, hungrier. Outside, the city wakes up with horns and engines and money moving. Inside, it’s just her breathing and mine.
“You got a meeting,” she says. “Church?”
“I got a lot of things.”
