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“Sure you don’t have time for a quickie?” he playfully asks as I straddle him, feeling his thickness beneath me. Brandon sits up, palms my breast, and releases a small groan of desperation. I slightly rock on him as he arches his hips, feeling his arousal but knowing we can’t start something right now.
“Babe, if you make me late—” I start as he moves his hands to my ass and squeezes, pushing me harder against him.
“Then I’ll get to fuck you for the next hour?” He arches a brow. The morning sunshine barely lights the room, but I see his cocky smirk.
“You’re the ultimate tease. You know I’m gonna be thinking about this all day now,” I admonish as I climb off, squeezing my legs together. He knows damn well I have to get going.
Brandon lets out a light chuckle. “Have a good day, my little sex kitten.” He flashes me a wink.
“Shut up,” I mock before telling him goodbye for real this time.
As I walk into the hallway, I spot a pair of red lacy panties on the floor that aren’t mine. I look down at them, and my nostrils flare. I try to ignore it until I walk into the kitchen to find cabinets open, half-full beer bottles on the counter, and dirty dishes piled high. A loud groan releases from my throat when I see a bowl in the sink with dried cereal on the bottom.
“What the hell?” I whisper as I turn the water to a scalding temperature to soak the bowl. He knows I hate this because the cereal becomes rock hard and essentially super-glued to the glass, which makes it nearly impossible to clean without scrubbing. Hunter walks past me to place another dirty ass bowl in the sink that’s full of what looks like old macaroni and cheese. When I see the random noodles stuck to the bottom of the bowl that’s clearly been in his room for days, maybe even weeks, I almost lose my shit.
I turn around and glare at him. He’s shirtless, wearing pants that hang off his hips, and has his normal no-fucks-given attitude. If he weren’t such an asshole, maybe he’d be able to find a woman to help take care of him because he’s obviously unable to do it himself.
“Are you serious?” I ask, trying to keep my tone level. “Are you incapable of using the dishwasher?”
He shrugs, opens the fridge, and lifts the gallon of milk to his lips, taking a drink directly from it.
My eyes widen, and my mouth falls open as I gag. I make a mental note not to have any milk until we buy more or maybe not ever. “What the actual fuck, Hunter? Have you lost your damn mind?”
He places the jug back in the fridge and slams the door shut. Turning and glaring at me with deep brown eyes, he finally responds, “I lost my mind when you moved in.”
I growl, unable to keep my frustration buried inside. “Ugh! You’re such a freakin’ slob!”
Hunter walks away, and I hear his door close. My heart gallops in my chest as I look at the mess, and it angers me to no end. Every night before I go to sleep, I clean the kitchen spotless because I can’t stand to wake up to a dirty house. Each morning, I feel as if I’m living in the twilight zone because I find different articles of women’s underwear scattered on the floor and dirty dishes filling the sink. I’m no one’s maid or babysitter, especially not his.
More empty beer bottles and chip bags litter the coffee table in the living room. The cushions are haphazardly thrown around, which I hate. It looks like a fucking tornado went through here last night. I close my eyes and suck in a deep breath, hoping I find the restraint not to walk into Hunter’s room and strangle him to death because he deserves it right now.
Before I leave for work, though I don’t have time for this shit, I have to clean up the mess, or it will bother me all day. I quickly throw the random trash away, situate the couch cushions, and pick up until the place looks semi-normal. Hunter enters the kitchen, fully dressed this time, and places two slices of bread in the toaster.
“It’s a new year. Think you can start cleaning up after yourself? New year, new you?” I ask, hopeful, but the sarcasm isn’t lost on him.
“That’s what we keep you around for.” He shoots me a snarky smile, and I’m two seconds away from slapping it right off his smug face.
I huff, seeing red. “Why are you so insistent on being like this? No wonder you’re single. No one can stand you once your clothes are back on.”
Hunter places a hand on his chest over his heart and gives me a fake pouty look. “Oh man. That one really hurt. What will I ever do with myself?” He makes the extra effort to roll his eyes with so much exaggeration, I’m afraid they might get stuck. “Try again, Lennon. Your jabs have become as old and worn out as you.”
