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I watch as his full attention is on Echo. His belly laugh is infectious as he fends off her doggy kisses. Warmth unfurls through my chest, taking in his interaction with her, and for a brief moment, time stands still.
"Whoa. Hey, hey, slo—" He falls backward, and Echo is immediately on top, pinning him to the mattress. He's shit outta luck now. She knows how to use her fifty-eight pounds to hold you captive.
"Echo, heel." I keep my voice low but use the commanding tone her previous owner taught me. My girl immediately swivels her head, and when she takes in my expression, she is off our guest in no time and by my side.
Wes raises himself onto his elbows, and our eyes lock. Taking him in on my bed, my breathing accelerates, and all my good intentions to move on from him and Stonebriar are out the window.
I envision myself walking over slowly and straddling his legs, pressing my already needy core to his—nope, not going there. I shake my head at myself, and Wes quirks a brow.
Neither of us says anything, and I use the elongated silence to calm my racing heart. It's time to let the old King out again. Maybe if I remind him of my knives, he'll leave.
I tilt my head and scan him up and down. She snaps into place, and I let the numbness spread through every cell Wes's presence has sent into disarray.
"What are you doing here?" Most guys would flinch when she comes out to play, but not Wes. He is not impressed.
"I was looking for you." He makes no indication of abandoning his comfortable position.
I snort, crossing my arms over my chest. "And what gives you the right to invade my home?"
Wes's eyes drop to my boobs, which are—thanks to my motion—pushed up and halfway out of my low-cut tank top. When I packed, I went for comfort and did not consider who I might encounter upon my return. This shirt is one of my favorites and is oversized. It hangs loose and low on my frame, and my unzipped hoodie doesn't help to cover anything up either.
"Eyes up here!" I bark. Not that I don't enjoy them on me. The slickness in my panties definitely contradicts my attitude, but I need to keep up the charade.
"I didn't invade your home." Wes finally sits up and scoots to the edge of the bed. "Your roommate let me in."
I'm going to kill her.
I hollow my cheeks, signaling him that I'm not buying it. I know he's telling the truth, but he doesn't need to know that.
"I got here when she was on her way out," he elaborates. "She said you should be back soon, and I could wait inside."
"Inside did not mean on my bed." I grind the words out between clenched teeth, propping my hands on my hips.
Wes shrugs, and I want to throttle him for his nonchalant attitude.
I pull my phone out of my back pocket and tap the screen. "I have to get ready for work." Maybe switching gears will help.
"Okay."
I'm starting to lose my patience. Not because of him, but because my body wants him here while I change and maybe him touching me…
"Get out!" I cut my internal thought process off, and instead of stomping like a toddler, I channel my pent-up (sexual) frustration toward Wes.
He slowly pushes himself off the mattress and saunters over. He stops next to me, but I keep my eyes forward as he leans down, whispering, "I'll be waiting outside."
His breath against the shell of my ear… His arm brushing against mine as he moves on… Even the old King pants like a dog in heat.
I remain in place as Wes walks down the hallway.
"Echo, come keep me company." His voice travels through the house, and before I can stop her, my dog dashes after him.
"Motherfucker!" I whisper-screech, stomping my foot. What is he doing here? I don't understand.
The creak of the back door, followed by it swinging shut, signals that Wes took Echo outside. I drop my arms, and the breath I was holding leaves me with a whooshing sound. Resigned, I pad to my closet and pull my medium-wash skinny jeans off the hanger. I'm so glad Grizz doesn't care what we wear as long as it's paired with the bar's T-shirt. This particular pair has seen better days, and the ripped material over the knees and up the thighs reveals more skin than my self-cropped work tops. I glance behind me at the open door, then decide that I don't care. This is my house. Plus, he's outside.
Despite my non-caring pretense, I change quicker than usual, then head to the bathroom to apply mascara and pull my hair up in a messy bun. It's the best I can do after sleeping in a beanie last night.
Through the glass of the back door, I see Wes throwing Echo's favorite ball. She chases after it and brings it back. He repeats the motion a few more times before he calls out, "Are you coming outside, or are you gonna keep ogling me?"
