Текст книги "Exposed"

Автор книги: Ivy Stone

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Lindsey

Fate. I never believed in it. Fate was a bitch I wanted to bury. But one chance meeting, one touch, it left me questioning everything. If it wasn’t fate, what was it?

The toxic liquid burns down my esophagus as I swallow another shot of straight bourbon. The alcohol allows me to float with lightness for just a short while, temporarily washing away the worries of work and life. I was going to need something strong to keep my mind from wandering to one tall, dark, and handsome police officer. He’s nothing more than a stranger, and I don’t know how, or why, but he makes me want to feel. After years of guarding my emotions, I want to release every overwhelming feeling bursting to break out, and I can’t have that, so I got up and walked away like a coward. But no amount of dancing or drinking was pulling my attention away from him. Maybe the attraction isn’t about him. Maybe it’s that he’s something I can’t have. He’s stunningly gorgeous without a doubt. Could it all be because he’s forbidden fruit?

“Jesus, Linds. Stop eye-fucking the shit out of him and put the guy out of his goddamn misery. Every straight guy in here with eyes and a dick watched the little performance you just put on,” Olly comments as he grabs his ringing cell phone from the pocket of his jeans.

“Oh, please, it was only dancing.”

“Yeah, babe. You. Dancing. You were practically fucking me on the dance floor by the end of the last song. You were trying to make the cop jealous now that you’ve got some liquid courage happening.”

I frown. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.” I look away in an effort to avoid where this conversation is undoubtedly heading.

“I don’t need to tell you what a bad idea it is, but I think I will anyway.” Olly reaches across the table, placing my hand in his. I sigh. Here it comes. “Lindsey, he’s a cop, and you’re a pretty little criminal. Doing anything with him is not a smart move, let alone screwing his brains out. You know it and so do I. You want to get laid, babe, I’m right here.” Oliver squeezes my hand, grinning confidently like he’s stating the obvious. I refrain from rolling my eyes at his cocky attitude. I know he’s right, and any other time, I’d take him up on his offer, but not tonight. He’s got the wrong colored eyes, too much hair. He’s not him. “I know, Olly. Trust me, I get what you’re saying. He’s gotten under my skin today, is all.” I lower my shoulders removing my hand from his, and circle the rim of my empty glass. “I don’t plan on anything happening with him. I guess the alcohol has turned my brain cells to mush, which means it must be time for some water.” I stand to make my way to the bar when Olly stops me.

“Today was rough. It’s no wonder you’re shaken up and need to let loose. But, Linds, don’t do anything you’ll regret later.” He turns his head in the direction of Mason and Detective Tate before turning back to me. “For his and your sake.”

I open my mouth to respond but am interrupted by Jet’s “Cold Hard Bitch” blaring out of Olly’s cell phone. With my brows raised, arms crossed over each other, my interest now definitely piqued, I wait for Olly to answer.

Snatching it off the table, he glares at the screen, then back at me. “What?” he asks, feigning indifference. “It’s Marissa.”

“Okay, well, if you don’t want to deal with her, then don’t answer. We can sort her out tomorrow. Your call.”

Ignoring my suggestion altogether, he picks up the phone and answers, just like I knew he would. After our chat earlier, I became well aware of how much this woman has him tied up in knots. I berate myself for not paying more attention, and not realizing how he felt sooner so I could have pulled him from the job. My mind’s been waging a war with my heart lately. Do I leave it all behind, once and for all? We don’t need the money, or the trouble. It’s the life we’ve always known. I could always justify it, putting my mind at ease. But now, I have no excuses, no reasons, no justification for doing what I do and when I search deep for some underlying reason, I come up blank. There is no excuse good enough to extinguish my sins. Every day, every job, my mind weighs on the idea I am no better than Giuseppe, no better than my stepfather, the whole reason I fell into the Marino clutches to begin with. I don’t want to believe I am anything like either of them, two men I despise but I am. I had hurt innocent people, just not by choice. In the early years within Giuseppe’s world, I was indebted to him. I didn’t know any better. I did everything he asked because I had no choice or power then. I’d also seen so many dead bodies in my life by that time, I was slowly becoming immune to the effect killing another person should have on me. I still steal, hurt and kill, but only those who deserve it. I’ve broken so many laws I’ve lost count.

Grand Larceny.

Aiding and Abetting.

Assault and Battery.

Fraud.

Extortion.

Forgery.

Robbery.

Murder.

I always believed I’m doing it for the right reasons, unlike Jeremy and Giuseppe. I do it to sweep criminals off the streets. But now I’m questioning everything. The guilt of my actions is catching up with me. The line dividing right and wrong is blurring and I can no longer see straight.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll be there,” Oliver grumbles into the speaker then hangs up.

Bracing both hands on the table, he stands, and shifts out of the booth. “I have to go, Linds. You all right getting home or you want me to walk you?”

“I’ll be fine, Olly. You, be careful with her. I already wound up in one police precinct today. I don’t plan on having to visit another one anytime soon.”

He scoffs, clearly unconcerned. “I’m too smooth to get caught, Linds, and definitely too fucking handsome for a prison get up.” He leans in and pecks me quickly on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And then he’s gone, already nearing the bar’s entry.

“Okay, yeah, bye!” I yell for good measure when he most likely can’t hear me anyway.

My ribs scream in pain reminding me of the day, my head now pounds, the painkillers I’d taken earlier wearing off. Feeling cold and very much alone, I wait for a glass of water from one of the bartenders, who are busy serving other customers. Placing my clutch down on the counter, I lean on it for balance. Wooziness washes over me and misjudging as I go, I nearly fall on my ass. Yep, that’s me, clumsy when sober, twice as bad when drunk.

A hand steadies me at the small of my back and my muscles tense. “Whoa, you all right there, sugar?”

I spin around to acknowledge the person speaking to me. “I’m fine, but thanks.”

A gasp escapes my lips. My heartbeat thrashes in my ears as I lay eyes on one of the bikers from this morning’s shootout. He’s young, early twenties at a guess. He’s so close his words feel like ice on my skin. What does he want? I step back cautiously, ready to defend myself, while anticipating his next move.

“Don’t look so worried. I take it you recognize me. Just know I’m not here to hurt you. Want to have a little talk. Drinks are on me,” he replies softly, contrary to his frightening demeanor.

“Back the fuck off, Ace.”

A very pissed-off Mason appears by my side placing a protective hand on my hip. He pulls me into him, but does so gently. If it were any other time, I’d drop him on his ass for being so possessive. But his Neanderthal move might just work to my advantage right now. My eyes catch Ace’s patch, Misery’s Angels. I shudder, the scar on my thigh searing open like a fresh wound, the pain radiating through me like wildfire. I retract my hand to Mason’s thick thigh and I feel him tense beneath me. Remembering a job I’ll never forget, I can’t recall this man. He must be fairly new. And if he believes I have Mason by my side, I am double the force to be reckoned with.

Ace raises his arms, palms facing out in a surrendering gesture. “Don’t want any trouble, Cole. Just checking on Lindsey here after this morning. Knew she got hurt so Prez wants me to make sure she’s all right.”

The sinful gleam in his eyes as they roam the length of my body has me questioning his motives behind the visit. While I don’t feel remotely at ease around him, I also don’t get the impression he would hurt an innocent woman. Innocent in this case.

“You tell Cannon he touches even one hair on Lindsey Jenkins’ head, he’ll live to regret it.  Got enough dirt on him to lock him up for fucking years, deal or not. You go ahead and remind him of that,” Mason states. “Now, we done here?”

I could cut in and say something, stand my own ground, show them the strong, independent woman I am, who I’ve tried to be my entire life, but I don’t. I give us both this moment that may never happen again. I soak up the feeling of having him protect me in a way no one else ever has and for whatever his reasons, he stands there, publicly threatening an outlaw biker for a woman who’s no more than a stranger.

I wanted to be protected by my mother when I lost my father. I needed to be protected by her when Jeremy took everything from us. Nobody apart from Olly has ever shielded me from pain before. Yet here he is, safeguarding me with no expectations.

“Sure, Cole, we’re done, for now.” Ace smirks. “I’ll be sure to tell Prez you’ve gone and got yourself a woman,” he goads, and without turning back, he casually walks away like he didn’t awaken a beast who I’m now holding back from charging forward. Mason’s muscles bunch beneath my hands and his body shakes with anger. He doesn’t look at me. I just watch him intently as he breathes heavily, staring down the path where Ace just stood.

“Don’t. Don’t give him what he wants,” I say sternly, still grasping his forearm in an effort to prevent another physical altercation, as if one wasn’t enough today. Slowly, his gaze falls to where my hand rests on him and I can almost feel the burn from the heat of his stare. I pull it away, suddenly aware of our closeness, and distance myself from the man who’s stepped up for me for the second time today.

My head droops with exhaustion. I don’t have the effort to spend another moment figuring out Mason’s reaction to me. What’s the point in trying?

My mind now full of clarity, my adrenalin pushing aside the alcohol in my system, I pull myself together and ignore my body’s desire for a man I’ll never have.

“Well, not that any of your assistance was required or anything, but I still feel I should thank you for standing up for me with that guy. It was a nice gesture. I’m not naïve as to think he was actually here to check up on me, but now that that’s over, I think I’ll be heading home. Thanks for returning my coat,” I say with as much sincerity as I can muster up. Grabbing my coat and clutch, Cole replies before I have the chance to leave without further conversation.

“You’re not walking home alone, Lindsey. Give me a minute to let Roamyn know I’m heading out and I’ll walk with you.”

I stand up straighter, crossing my arms. “I don’t need an escort for the whole three minute walk to my loft, Detective. I’m quite capable of walking myself home.”

“Not asking for your permission, sweetheart. Doing it anyway,” he retorts, locking me in between the bar and his body. The air becomes thin, my breathing deepens and my body temperature rises. Why does he have to get so close?

A stubbornness matching my own stares back at me and I blurt out the only thing that might deter him from wanting to accompany me home. “I’m not having sex with you.”

He chuckles and the sound is divine, yet surprising to hear from a man who’s so intense. It would be music to my ears if he wasn’t so frustrating.

“Never thought you were going to, Linds. Now are you going to stand here and throw a tantrum some more, or are we leaving so we can both get home to our beds?”

My brows furrow. “It’s Lindsey. Not Linds,” I reply swiftly, my nickname sounding far too satisfying leaving his kissable lips. More of that and I’ll be begging for him to take me on the sidewalk.

“Oliver calls you Linds,” he points out.

“Well, yeah, he does, Mason. We’ve been best friends for seventeen years. He was allowed nickname rights after two of those.”

“Linds,” he reiterates, his tone now more serious than playful. “Shut down your sass and get your ass moving.” Seriously? Who the hell does this man think he is? I sigh, my eyes itchy from lack of sleep and my head’s now pounding. “Fine, you win this round. But don’t ever expect it to happen again.”

“Be back,” he mumbles as he marches off to where Detective Tate, who I now know is Roamyn, is sitting, his back to us with two blondes either side of him. Hesitating, Mason stops mid-stride. “Don’t go anywhere.” Yelling over the music, he eyes me like I’m about to make a run for it.

“Not moving, Mason, now hurry up.” I jab my arm out, gesturing for him to get a move on. If he doesn’t hurry up, I will leave.

After a quick goodbye and cheeky grin from Roamyn, I let Mason lead us out of the bar while giving him the directions to the loft.

Leaning in so close I can feel his hot breath on my ear, he whispers, “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

I melt, melt into a puddle of mush this gorgeous man created the moment he opened his mouth. Those deep blue hues, that foreign chuckle, his hard chest, and that dark hair on top of his head that I just want to run my fingers through, it all screams bad news at my carefully crafted routine I call life.

I want him, bad. I want him to slap those cuffs on, tell me what a bad girl I’ve been, and fuck me into oblivion. I hold back my grin. This is so not going to end well.

Mason

Her breath releases in visible clouds, the winter’s night even colder than the last. Thank fuck her place is only minutes away. Freezing my balls off or not, I’d still be walking her home. She lives in a nice neighborhood, but no fancy penthouse is safer than any alley, and people would be stupid to think otherwise. Nothing about her screams damsel. In fact, I’d say she doesn’t need a lick of my help. But I keep digging for more conversation, more about her. Just a few more minutes. Surely, she’ll give me something to go on.

She tucks her hands in her pockets after pulling her jacket up around her neck. “So, Mase, you make it a habit to walk home all the women you meet at work?”

I turn to her, smirking in surprise. “Mase, huh?”

She shrugs. “Only fair I get to nickname you after you gave yourself the right to use mine.”

She plays it off casually, and I chuckle. This may be the lightest moment we’ve experienced.

“Think you might be just what I need,” I mutter softly, the words escaping my mouth before I have a chance to take them back. I turn ready to accept the attitude she’s bound to throw me but instead, shock rocks me to my core.

“Me too.”

She stares into space; her eyes vacant. Her voice is so quiet when the words slip out I think she surprises herself.

Maybe I imagined it. I wanted it so badly to be real. Why, I don’t even know.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Mason

Our worlds collided with a violent crash, the impact stronger than either of us could have ever imagined. We didn’t realize until the damage was done and we had more than just broken bones.

My breathing deepens as I trail soft kisses down her stomach, her skin rippling with pleasure beneath my touch. Her body trembles and her small pink nipples harden. A raspy moan slips past her lips and her back arches off the bed when my thumb glides back and forth over her clit. She’s so soft, so wet.

“Oh, God, Mason. I need you,” Lindsey whispers through a haze of lust, her half-lidded eyes shutting completely.

I groan, my voice raw with need. “You got it, sweetheart.”

I pull her thighs around my hips, positioning myself at her entrance. Cock in hand, I squeeze my shaft and swirl the head through her wetness. Fuck, I can’t hold off any longer.

Thrusting forward in one sharp movement, my hands hold her in place. I stretch her, her pussy contracts, the tightness spiking a shiver of pleasure to rush through me. I fight the overwhelming urge to plow into her, hard and fast. I want to savor every touch, every kiss, every thrust because no other woman feels this good. Leaning in, I rest an arm beside her head, and use the other to graze my thumb over her cheek. She’s so goddamn beautiful. I slide my palms down her chest, her body so smooth under my calloused fingers. I caress her bare tits while pumping my hips back and forward in pure ecstasy. Fuck.

Lindsey circles her arms around my neck and smashes her lips to mine in a bruising kiss.

My balls tingle, the edge is near, one more pump of my hips, it’s all it’ll take. It’s so close, then it’s not. A small, soft voice drifts into my subconscious, pulling me from my sexually infused state. “Dad! Come on, it’s time to wake up.”

Any desire still left in me shrivels and I open my eyes, waking to the angelic face of my sweet daughter.

“Can we get breakfast at the diner on the way to school?” She beams, eyes filled with hope.

“Sure, baby girl. Give me a minute to shower and get ready, okay?” I ask, staring into little hazel orbs resembling my own.

“Okay!” She jumps in excitement as she turns away, but I halt her in her step, reaching out for her arm while keeping the sheets completely covering me. “Be out in a minute,” I say, placing a kiss on the top of her head. She skips out to the living room and I make sure I lock the door as she leaves.

Shredding my boxers, I step under the hot spray of the shower. The moment alone sends me spiraling back into thoughts of Lindsey and the day that we met a week ago. Between work, Charlotte, and everything else, she’s still managed to appear in my mind. On the walk back to Lindsey’s building, we fell into a pattern like a couple in sync. She made me laugh, I appreciated the humor. I made her smile, my heart cheered. Conversation flowed easily for the short few minutes in her company. It was barely enough time to work her out but what I did learn, everything I saw and heard, made me want to make the smile on her face a permanent fixture. It was unreasonable to want such a thing without even understanding why. I racked my brain the whole way home trying to figure it out. What is it about her that makes her stand out from the rest? She’s smart and different, unique in her own way, and despite her trying to hide it, heat lit a fire inside her eyes every time I touched her. I saw it. We both felt it. She’s still as much of a mystery to me now as the day I saved her from flying bullets, but she let her guard down for a minute too long, and it was enough to let me get a peek at what might be underneath.

My dick now stands to attention with Lindsey’s sexy body hijacking every damn thought. Water trickles down my stomach and my hand slides easily down the front of me until I wrap a hand around my shaft. Fisting my length, a drop of pre-cum leaks out and I swirl the liquid over the head. It’s sticky between my fingers. Bracing my other hand on the wall, I pump a few times before dropping my head and closing my eyes, hoping my brain committed my earlier dream to memory so I can relive it. What I wouldn’t do to get a taste of the real thing. I pull harder, faster, imagining Lindsey’s luscious lips all over my cock. Another vicious tug, desire pools in my balls, my cock hardens in my hand and I’m blowing my load all over the shower wall. I grunt. I can’t think, can’t see. The pleasure blinds me as I soak up the best fucking feeling as I shoot out the last of my release. Finally, the pressure that’d been building from thinking about the woman ever present in my mind dissipates. I grab the soap and scrub clean before turning off the taps to get ready for the day. And I do so with Lindsey still in my goddamn head.

She fiddles with the keys in her hand before lifting her gaze to meet mine. “Well this night sure turned out different from what I expected but, uh, strangely enough, it’s been nice. Goodnight, Mason.”

She turns around, walking up concrete steps to the door of her building. I have to cement my feet to the fucking ground to stop myself from moving toward her. I want to kiss her, hold her, and unfold all of her secrets.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. You’ve got my number now, anything happens with you or your sister, make sure you use it. I’ll be seeing you soon.” I call out confidently.

She doesn’t turn back to acknowledge me though, she turns her head to the side, looking out into the distance and replies, “If you’re lucky, you won’t.”

I stand speechless, brows knitted in confusion as she walks inside and shuts the door. My mind jumbles with questions, confusion, what the hell was that supposed to mean? I wait for her to get in and lock up, and while I’m still standing here racking my brain for a logical explanation behind her cryptic response, a light catches the corner of my eye a few stories up.  Her hair flashes past the window and her face comes into view. Her skin perfect, smile perfect, everything fucking beautiful illuminated by the moonlight shining on her.

A cell phone lights up in her hand and she puts it to her ear. A familiar ringtone sounds from my back pocket, so I pull out my cell and answer.

Lindsey’s silvery voice resonates in my ear. “Locked up, Detective. Now go home.” She looks down at me, a gleam sparkling in her eye, a playful grin on her lips. Her features as fierce as her personality, my heart smacks against my rib cage with that look. Slipping my phone back, I hale a cab and head home to spend another night alone in my bed.

It was such a strange thing how one encounter, one person, could affect my entire mindset within hours of meeting her. I never thought of my bed as being empty before, nor did I find myself lonely in it, because I was never lonely, not really. I had a daughter, who during the night sometimes ended up curled in beside me, or me squished into her small bed with her.

It was crazy. After one evening in the company of a woman I enjoyed being around for no other reason than her personality, she pulled at something in me. She forced me to recognize how closed off I’d become without even knowing she was doing it. She had me yearning for something. I just didn’t know what the fuck it was.

I tighten the tie around my neck and tuck my shirt into my pants hanging on my hips just as Charlotte yells out.

“Come on, Dad, we’re gonna be late.”

***

The shrilling sounds of phones ringing hit my ears first, sending sharp jabs of pain to my already aching skull, thanks to the lack of sleep last night. After the first nightmare, I stayed awake, but when I couldn’t hold my eyes open any longer, I fell into sleep which somehow became pleasant. It was a nice change. I stare into the mug of black coffee in my hands as if it holds all the answers, but it doesn’t. It’s dark and it burns, just like my dreams. I drown the reasons for the night terror last night with a sip of caffeine. Last night’s was one of the worst.

I couldn’t wash away her face. I couldn’t take away her pain. I tried to save them all, but I couldn’t. We were too late. When my eyes close, I see hers, the fear in them tearing me apart. Her tears fell in waterfalls as the gun pressed into her temple. Her arms and feet were cut from the chain tying them together on a lead. The screaming, the crying, my ears bled with pain. Their voices were everywhere, I couldn’t block it out. Sweat dripped down my forehead. My heart was ready to lurch right out of my chest. I was trapped. My limbs heavy, I couldn’t move.

Thank fuck that was around the time I’d wake up. After enduring the hell over and over in one night, I gave up on sleep until my body left me no choice but to fall back into a slumber unwillingly.

My foot lands on the last step of the stairs and all the eyes of my squad turn to me.

I clear my throat and acknowledge their presence, “Morning.”

I avert my eyes and give off an ‘I’m not in the mood to talk’ attitude as I head to my office at the back of the room, avoiding eye contact with any of them. They’re my closest friends. I trust them with my life, but I don’t trust anyone with my fears. How can I let them see how this shit affects me? How can they trust me to have their backs if they know every time a bullet ejects from a chamber, I’m sent back there, back to the warehouse, to the day five small children lost their lives?

The squad graces me with their usual morning greetings before I push the door to my office shut. Sinking into the chair at my desk, I close my eyes and embrace the moment of silence I know won’t last, because any moment now, Roamyn will barge in like he does every morning.

The silence is short-lived. Thirty seconds later, the door is thrown open and an overly cheerful Roamyn waltzes in. “Well, you sure look happy this morning.” He falls into the leather couch just on the inside of the office. “You look hungover as fuck, just so you know.” Making himself at home, he lies across the couch folding his arms behind his head, much like he does every morning.

“Well, I’m not. Just have a badass headache. What’s up?”

“Might wanna check the note and case file I left on your desk this morning,” he adds.

I turn around. “And?” I drag out, waiting for an answer.

He shifts, looking uncomfortable, and shakes his head at me sullenly. “You’re not going to like it, man. The DA called. They want both Alison and Lindsey Jenkins to agree to take the stand on the Marino Case. DA thinks if the girls verify everything they saw and Alison rolls on the boss there’s a chance the drug and weapons charges against him might actually stick.”

Cassidy and Elias appear at the door but I take no notice, the mention of Lindsey and taking the stand my only concern. After the bust at Sweet Tarts, Elias and Cassidy cracked one of Giuseppe’s associates. He gave his boss up because he and his family are living here illegally and we threatened them with deportation.

“If they don’t, there won’t be much hope for Giuseppe or Lucio Marino doing any prison time. As it is, Giuseppe’s charges are hanging on by a thread. And the help we had from Misery’s Angels, those gun charges on Lucio aren’t what they should be. Someone in the Angels had to have tipped them off we’ve been onto them. The shipment wasn’t even half the size it was supposed to be. If the girls can’t verify what they saw for the jury, those deep pockets Marino’s got hands in, they’ll get him and Lucio off the charges. I’d bet on it.”

“Not a chance, plus Lindsey barely saw a thing, she said she’d only walked in a minute before we busted in,” I growl back, snatching the small Post-It note off my desk while Roamyn sinks his hands into his pockets of his black slacks. My pulse quickens at the thought of the harm Lindsey and Alison will suffer if they testify.

“Hate to go against you on this, boss, but I’m with Roamyn on this one.” Elias, the other detective of our four-man squad, chimes in. I take a deep breath, trying to calm the irrational voice in my head screaming what a disaster this will probably turn into.

“I know it’s a shitty situation. I don’t like the idea any more than you do. If they do testify, it’ll bring them into the limelight. But you know without those testimonies they’ll never do serious time. With their connections, they’ll be in and out of Riker’s within a goddamn month.” Roam’s frustrated tone fills the thickening air with tension as each second passes. “And just to put it out there, I worked my ass off undercover for three horrible fucking months to catch these guys. It might not have been long, Mase. But it was brutal. The shit I saw and did.  My cover’s still intact in case I need to go back under but right now, this is all we’ve got to go on. I won’t exactly be thrilled if they walk out of a courtroom as free men. Not if I can help it.”

He’s right. How he pulled off even three months and made it out alive shocks the shit out of me. They’re ruthless bastards and no one’s ever managed to get on the inside without winding up dead. Not until Roamyn volunteered his suicidal ass.

I scrub a hand over my chin, my mind searching for another answer, something, anything. “Yeah, I get it. I do. I don’t want to see those assholes walk free either. But making Lindsey and Alison testify in court? We’re slapping targets on their backs. They’ll both end up as floating corpses in the Hudson River next week.”

The truth ached against my throbbing heart.

“DA is willing to offer Alison immunity,” Roamyn adds.

“What?”

“The footage from the strip club came in showing Alison Jenkins being pimped out by Lucio. And we saw her pulling out the ICE we found in her locker and shoving it back in. She lied about knowing it was there. We’ve got to bring her in and now we have to tell them about this.” Roamyn points to the file.

I nod, acknowledging him, but I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes and accept the truth.

“It will end badly.” I grimace as the words leave my mouth. It was an inevitable tragic ending, one I didn’t want for Lindsey or Alison.

A second later, I feel a nudge on my arm. “Hey,” Roamyn says, seeking out my attention. “It doesn’t have to.”

But his pained expression says it all. It will.

Lindsey

Padding my sock-covered feet along the wooden floors, I yawn loudly as I wipe away the sleep still slick in the corner of my eyes. My twirled hair is a knotted mess hanging low down my back, hiding some of the oversized pajama shirt that’s seen better days. The distinct aroma of coffee wafts through the air, becoming stronger the closer I get to the kitchen.

“Mmm, Alison, please tell me you made enough coffee–” My mouth falls open in surprise as I round the corner.

“Shit,” mutters the bare-assed male awkwardly shifting on his feet to cover his junk.

“Who are you and why are you in my kitchen?” I ask, crossing my arms under my chest, my patience growing thin.

“Umm.” Naked Guy stills at my voice. “Making breakfast?” It comes out as a question rather than a statement and along with it, a grimace he tries to pull off as a smile.

“Oh, Jesus. Put some clothes on.” I move out of the way so he can pass and as he does, he drops his hands, letting all his naked glory shine. I roll my eyes and yell in the direction of the guest bedroom, “Alison you better drag your ass out here or find somewhere else to stay!”