Page 123 of Resist

With a roll of her eyes, she rushes from the room while I stand from the couch. First, I don’t like the guy out of principle because he’s a guy. Second, I don’t like him because now she’s putting a shirt on. And third, I’m so fucking tempted to open the door like this—dick hard to make a point, literally, about what was just about to happen.

But it’s not my house. It’s not my place . . . and by the time I cross the room, my hard-on has died, so I open the door.

“Hi.” It’s all I say as I enjoy the shocked look on his face. He’s a little under six feet, soft in the middle, not bad looking, but the surprise that flashes in his eyes is way worth it. “Joey, I presume?”

Yeah, fucker. I’m in Vaughn’s house. It’s midday. I don’t have a shirt on, and my hair is still fucked up from when she ran her hands through it this morning as we had sex after our shower . . . so I hope you get the point to back the fuck off.

“Yes. Joey. And you are?”

“Joey!” It’s Vaughn’s singsongy voice as she ducks under my arm braced on the doorjamb. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong.” He eyes her and then back to me.

“Have you met Ryker?” He shakes his head. “Ryker, this is Joey—Joey, Ryker.”

We shake hands, and the little ghost of a smirk I give is the one I practice for court. The you’re-fucked-and-you-don’t-have-a-chance-so-don’t-even-try smirk.

“Nice to meet you,” I say as the three of us stand there in awkward silence for a few moments. My little way of making sure he knows I’m not going anywhere. “Well, I’ll leave you two to talk, then.” I press a kiss to the side of her head in a show of “she’s mine” before I retreat back to the couch to watch them.

Their voices are low, heads bent over, and every few seconds, he glances my way. I meet his look to let him know I’m paying attention. That I’m watching.

And I am. They’re familiar with each other. Her hand on his shoulder. Her laugh at something he said.

It’s not like I have any right to claim her, but it’s not like I’m going to let that stop me.

The longer they talk, the more I know I like this woman. The more I’m glad no matter how fucked it was for me to chase her, it was the right thing.

I’ve never let a woman consume me before. Always thought they were a dime a dozen . . . but Vaughn Sanders has consumed me.

And I want her to keep consuming me too.

I don’t know how long they chat, but it’s too damn long in my book. They hug, and when she shuts the door and heads my way, I don’t try to hide that I was watching them.

“What was that all about?” I ask.

“He came to talk to me about Lucy.” She stops at the edge of the couch and angles her head and stares at me.

“A government employee who makes house calls? Shit. That’s a miracle.”

“Don’t be an ass.”

“I don’t like him.”

She laughs and rolls her eyes. “You’re jealous?” she asks as if I’m crazy.

Not jealous. Just making sure he knows what’s mine.

“Whatever.”

“Well, I don’t like Roxanne,” she says and folds her arms over her chest.

“That makes two of us. I don’t like Roxanne either.” I lift my eyebrows and wait to see what her reaction is.

She sits down on the opposite end of the couch. “Joey’s harmless and means well. Lucy has been having some issues lately. Things that have to do with some of the visits with her dad. Technically he’s not allowed to talk to me about it since she’s a ward of the state. If he does and is overheard, he can lose his job.”

“So he comes here instead?” I ask, knowing all too well how a man’s mind works, and it’s far from innocent like she assumes. “He can pick up a phone, can’t he?”

“Jealousy is cute on you.”