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My hand slides lower, my fingers skimming along the folds of her pussy. Her breath hitches and thighs clutch tighter. “Look forward to what you have planned.”
I lean in, crashing my lips to hers. She whimpers low when my tongue sweeps around her mouth. That sound, her taste, the warmth of her wrapped around me, has my dick hard as steel and throbbing. I tear myself away, easing her to her feet.
“This is not fair. I’m supposed to be seducing you.”
“I’m about four seconds away from kicking him out. Get dressed or I can’t be held responsible for what happens next.”
She shuffles away, digging in her bag on my dresser and rushing into the bathroom. My cock is no longer an issue as I stare at the bag. She comes out dressed in frayed jean shorts with my shirt tucked in the front, hanging low in the back.
The familiar sense of possessiveness rears up. Before I can say anything, she takes my hand and pulls me along.
Dad’s in the kitchen, staring into the back yard. When he hears us, his head swings our way, his gaze dropping to our joined hands, and it’s impossible to miss the warmth in his smile.
“Harley, sweetheart, you are a vision.”
She releases my hand and moves to his outstretched arms. “Hey, Mr. Kingston.”
“Pete, honey. Call me Pete.”
“Okay, Pete. How are you?” She braces, holding on to his forearms and giving him her blinding smile.
“I’m great. Didn’t know you were living here.”
“I’m not.” She shakes her head rapidly, stepping out of his embrace. “I parked around back. Achilles has a private entrance to his room. My job allows me to work remotely, and today I set up my office here.”
The timing sucks, but I don’t hold back what’s on my mind. “The dresser has three empty drawers. You need more, I’ll go through and clean out. I can rearrange the closet any way you want to fit your things.”
She jolts, her eyes crinkling. “Pardon?”
“I hate your bag.” I reach out and tug her back to me.
“You hate my bag?”
“I hate what it stands for. You shouldn’t have to pack your things to come here. I want you to have a stash of things here, so you always have what you need. Not only the soaps and shampoos. I want you to walk in my door and know you have everything here without packing a fucking bag.”
“I-I… ummm, packing doesn’t bother me. I never know what I’m in the mood for. And three empty drawers and a portion of your closet is more than a stash.”
“The more the better.”
“We’ll talk about this later.”
“Nothing to talk about.”
“Now is not the time. We’ll discuss it when your dad isn’t here to see me lose my mind at your absurdity.”
“Doesn’t seem absurd to me,” Dad pitches his support.
Her eyes flame, swinging between us. “Shacking up with my boyfriend in a house of four bachelors is not sane!”
“Three bachelors. As you mentioned, I’m spoken for,” I correct her and fight my grin when her nails dig into my side.
“It’s going to be four if you don’t shut don’t this ridiculous, and very private, conversation.”
“Is this the first time you’ve mentioned it?” Dad asks me, ignoring her.
“Yes.”
“Is she close to blowing up?”
“Quite possibly.”
“Maybe you should finesse it better, explain the benefits.”
“With my shifts, we have three nights a week together. I’d hope she understands the benefits.”
“Hello! I’m right here, hearing everything you’re saying. And I don’t need finessing. Achilles has a way of telling instead of asking.”
At the mention of my name, his chin jerks. “She still calls you Achilles?”
“The only person in this world who does. And honestly, the only person I want to.”
The intensity of her nails ease, and her hands flatten on my chest. “Don’t try to sweeten your way out of this.”
“Either you do it, or I’ll go over and load a suitcase.”
“You can’t get into my apartment. I have a security system.”
I cock an eyebrow, not hiding my grin anymore. “I’m a cop and a Marine. I have my ways.”
“I can skate out of work tomorrow if you need help,” Dad adds, and that’s what pushes her to the edge.
Her hands fly in the air, and she drops her head back, screaming at the ceiling. “MEN!”
Dad chuckles. I take the opportunity to run my lips along the column of her neck. Her head pops back up, and she shoots me an evil smirk before twisting to Dad.
“Don’t—“ is barely out of my mouth before she intercedes.
“Pete, we’d love if you’d stay and join us for a late breakfast.”
His smug grin is his answer. Fucker is enjoying the hell out of this.
The hard slam of the locker ricochets around the room, and a few veteran cops turn my way, giving me ‘the look’ that they’ve been in my shoes.
