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Not bothering to hang around and not wanting to waste time in case he suddenly changed and she figured out what she was getting and tried to give him back, we jogged back to the truck and began offloading everything from it and carrying it into her house.
“Wait… What’s all of this?”
Faking excitement, my brother stopped and clapped his hands. “Surprise, he’s all yours. We hope you enjoy Damian.”
“I thought we agreed on Damon?”
“Ah, did you say Damon? I thought you said Damian.” I facepalmed and did my best to look remorseful. “I’m sure he won’t mind if you change it, though. It’s still a character from a movie.”
We worked faster and harder than I think we’d ever worked in our lives, offloading all his stuff until the last box was safely inside her house.
“Everything you need’s there. If you think of anything else, just text me.” I started jogging to where Reid was sitting in the truck with the engine running, ready to make a quick getaway. “See ya later.”
“Wait,” she called. “Why am I getting him?”
I didn’t answer her. I just yelled at Reid, “Go, go, go!”
CHAPTER SIX
Jacinda
I wasn’t amused.
See, a woman’s sleep is sacred but not as sacred as the things she holds dear to her. And somebody had violated some of the things that were very dear to me.
I wasn’t ashamed of the fact that I had a healthy sex life—with myself. Yes, I spoke about it and exaggerated it to the girls, but I didn’t see the harm in making myself feel good behind closed doors. Serotonin, it was good for the soul, and that’s what my toys did for me.
I also followed Tony’s advice and made sure I wore nice underwear and spent time on my makeup and hair so that I felt good about myself. It all worked to make it easier for me to leave the house. An orgasm relaxed me, underwear made me feel sexy, and a bit of makeup and hair magic made me feel confident. Fake it ‘til you make it, right?
That fucking cat had ruined almost all of that for me.
He’d somehow managed to find my favorite vibrator, my ride or die, Magic Mike—who really could work the magic his box had promised—and had used it as a chew toy. When he’d hit the on switch, and it’d begun vibrating, he’d apparently seen this as a challenge to assassinate it before it got him and had given it his best try.
I’d woken up to hissing and growling and the sound of something vibrating across the floor, and had watched half-asleep as he’d attacked it with angry swipes until what was going on had hit home properly. I can say with absolute confidence that I’d never moved faster in my life than I did when it all sank in.
Sadly, he was a goner—my vibrator, not the cat.
After that, I’d stormed into the bathroom to get ready to go and kick Canon in the balls, only to find that Damian had also ripped all the bristles out of my Mason Pearson brush. My hair was particular, it rebelled if I didn’t give it the luxury it was used to, so this was a tragedy. The only other brush I had would leave me with static so bad, people would wonder if I’d licked a plug socket. Aces!
The tragedies didn’t end there. In front of my vanity was a trail of tiny multi-colored paw prints, which would have been adorable if it wasn’t for the fact they were made by a mixture of my makeup. Eyeshadows, blush, and powder.
This left me with only my foundation and having to dig out a powder compact that I’d hidden away because it was two shades lighter than my normal skin tone and had a slight metallic sheen. Looking like something out of Twilight, I gave up on trying to make it work. Fortunately, my mascara was untouched, so I used what little I had available to me to make the best of a shitty situation. I probably could have tried using some of the remnants of my normal makeup from their containers, but I didn’t trust Damian not to have done something foul to them.
And then there was my underwear. My favorite set had big rips in the satin, and there were holes in the lace of three pairs of panties and two bras.
“I will not kill the kitten. I will not kill the fucking kitten.”
Yanking on my clothes, I pulled my hair up in a ponytail and stormed toward the kitchen, where he was now hanging from the handle of one of the drawers.
“Don’t make eye contact with me,” I snapped at it.
There was no way it didn’t understand what I was saying. I refuse even to contemplate that being a possibility, so just to make sure he knew I was serious, I shot him the bird, too.
