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She stopped abruptly and turned back to face me. I hadn’t been expecting that, so I collided with her. She wobbled on unsteady legs, but my arms were around her in an instant, holding her up.
“What list do you think?”
“I’ve no fucking clue. That’s why I asked.”
Her hands landed on my chest and she pressed herself closer against me.
Fuck.
This was getting dangerous. Monroe was dangerous. Those curves called to me. Fuck, everything about this woman called to me. I remembered the first time I’d laid eyes on her. She’d been in her kitchen rambling on about broken doors and religious shit or something. I’d copped one look at those curves and I’d been fucking lost for words for a minute. It wasn’t just her body that did it for me; it was everything about her. From that red hair, to her voice, to the way she’d handled herself when Devil and I had come over—she had something I couldn’t put my finger on or describe. But whatever it was, I wanted a taste.
“You had much experience with women, tiger?”
Tiger?
Fuck, though, I’d answer to that.
“Depends on your definition of much.”
“Mmm, I’m betting that by your definition, you probably have. I can’t imagine a man like you not getting your fill. But I’m asking about your experience with dating and relationships, not purely sex.”
“A man like me?”
“Yeah, tall, hot with muscles for miles, and a voice that makes me wanna beg you to take my vibrator away and replace it with your cock.”
I raised a brow. “Is this the alcohol talking or do you talk to all men this way?”
She ignored that question. “So, do you have much experience?”
I gripped her waist and moved her away from me. “Can’t say I do.”
“I figured. It’s a damn shame you’re not into dating. But I’m taking a break anyway, apparently. If you listen to my mother and Tatum. They think shoes can make up for cock. Pfft. That’s what women with cock in their life say. Us singles girls would give up shoes in a heartbeat.”
I stared at her, no clue what she was going on about. But then, that seemed to be how most of this conversation was going down. “Okay, let’s get you inside.”
She placed a hand on her hip. “You trying to tell me to stop talking?”
I chuckled. “I doubt any man could tell you that and get away with it.”
My answer seemed to work for her. She finally turned, unlocked the door and entered her house. I followed close behind, steadying her when she stumbled. We walked the short distance to her kitchen where she threw her bag on the counter, kicked off her shoes, and poured herself a drink of water.
Eyeing me, she said, “What are you doing here? We never did cover that.”
It had surprised me that she’d allowed me into her home so easily, but I figured her drunken state had a lot to do with that decision.
“King sent me to ask you about the guy you work with and who he gets his drugs from.”
“You think I know that kind of information? I don’t do drugs, so I’m not up on who the drug dealers are in this town.”
It was what I’d suspected and had said as much to King. “Yeah, I figured. I’ll need to talk with your guy tomorrow. You know where I’ll be able to find him?”
“He’s working.” She reached for one of the pens she had stashed in a mug on the counter, and a piece of paper. Scribbling an address down, she said, “He’ll be here from about nine until three.”
I took the paper when she offered it to me. “You good from here?”
She smiled and cocked her head. “You offering to help me some more?”
I was far from a fucking saint, but taking advantage of drunk women wasn’t something I did. Even when that was all I wanted to do. “I think it’d be best if I didn’t help you too much tonight.”
