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I want us.

And I’m going to get that real quick because I’m tired of waiting.

Knocking on her door with clear impatience and urgency, I don’t get the response I normally get.

Which is Adeline whipping the door open like the chaos she called about can happen again at any second.

I knock again, then hear the faint voice of Adeline on the other side to come in.

My instincts kick into high gear as I open the door, immediately searching inside for my curly-haired woman, but find nothing in the foyer.

“Kitchen,” I hear her call out, immediately getting my feet to move toward it.

When I enter, I freeze mid-step because my brain doesn’t register the sight in front of me right away because it’s the last thing I’m expecting to see.

The absolute last.

Adeline is in nothing, see-through pink lingerie with flowers embroidered on it, but it takes nothing away from her tits and the sweet spot between her thighs.

Cautiously, I move forward, waiting for the catch. “What seems to be the problem here?”

Her green eyes stay grounded on me when she says, “I think I sprained my ankle.”

My brows clash together because Chloe didn’t mention an injury, so it’d only mean Adeline was just trying to get me here.

And that helps nothing with the feral need to be inside her right now.

“Can you move?”

Adeline is leaned up against her small kitchen island and places both her palms on top of it to lift herself up to sit.

Then crosses her legs.

Nice try, woman.

“I think so.”

“How’d you do that?” I press, stepping closer.

“Tryin’ to get in this get-up,” she replies as she watches me loom in.

I cup the back of one of her ankles, not sure of which one we’re playing with here, and raise it. “Need me to call an ambulance?”

“Not unless ya have somethin’ else you can give me.”

“I have plenty to give you, AK. I’m just tryin’ to see where we’re at.”

She uncrosses her legs, pulling the ankle resting in my palm out of my grasp. “I thought this outfit might help ya out with that. I got you here for a reason.”

“Noises or somethin’.”

“Yeah,” she confirms. “But then I really did twist my ankle⁠—”

“Shit.” I step back and look down between the two. “Which one?”

A fistful of my shirt is suddenly clutched between Adeline’s fingers and she yanks me closer, right between her spread legs. “I’m fine. I just tweaked it.”

“Are ya⁠—”