“You good, brother?” Morpheus’s voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater.
I blink, trying to clear my head. “Yeah. Fine.”
He follows my line of sight and a knowing smirk spreads across his face. “Ah. I see you’ve spotted Pinky.”
Pinky.
The name fits her perfectly.
“Who—” My voice cracks and I clear my throat to try again. “Who is she?”
“She was one of our Cherries. Been here about six months, but she’s leaving soon.” Morpheus whistles sharply, catching her attention. “Pinky! Come here, baby.”
She stops dancing immediately, her head whipping in our direction. When she sees Morpheus waving her over, a bright smile breaks across her face, and she bounces—actually fucking bounces—over to us.
Christ, even the way she moves is sexy.
“Hey, Morph!” She throws her arms around his neck in a quick hug.
Something hot and possessive flares in my chest at the casual display of affection. Which is fucking ridiculous. I don’t even know this girl.
Morpheus wraps an arm around her shoulder, and I have to consciously keep my hands from balling into fists.
“Pinky, this is Rambler. He’s a Nomad from our St. Louis charter. He’s visiting for a few days.”
She turns those incredible blue eyes on me, and I swear to God my knees actually go weak.
“Hi!” She holds out her hand, and I take it automatically. Her skin is soft and warm, her hand almost comically small in mine. I notice the small butterfly tattoo on the inside of her wrist. “I’m Pinky. Well, that’s what everyone calls me, anyway.”
Her voice is higher than I expected, sweet with a slight Southern twang.
“Aaron,” I hear myself say.
What the fuck? I never tell people my real name. Never. I fucking earned my road name. And yet, here I am, offering it up to this little slip of a woman on a silver platter.
She beams at me like I’ve just given her the best gift. “Nice to meet you, Aaron.”
Morpheus grins, clearly picking up on something I wish he couldn’t see. “Pinky, be a doll and show Rambler to the guest room. Last door on the left upstairs.”
“Sure thing!” She releases my hand and gestures toward the staircase. “Follow me!”
As she turns, I catch Morpheus’s eye. The smug bastard winks at me.
I’m going to kick his ass later.
“Coming?” Pinky calls over her shoulder, already a few steps ahead.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Right behind you, butterfly.”
And I am. Right behind her. Watching the hypnotic sway of her hips as she leads me up the stairs, those tiny shorts riding up with each step to reveal more of her perfect ass.
Jesus Christ, get it together, old man. She’s young enough to be your daughter.
I try to focus on anything else. The scuffed wood on the stairs. The pictures on the walls. The Christmas garland wrapped along the banister.
But my eyes keep going back to her bottom.
We reach the top of the stairs and turn down a hallway lined with doors.
