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I roll my eyes so hard, I swear they might fall out. “Suck a dick, Travis.” I grab my basket and walk to the basement door.
“I was hoping that wasyourspecialty!” I hear him yell out, but as soon as he does, I hear Drew’s fist collide with his shoulder.
“Dude, quit hitting on my sister.”
“In his dreams!” I yell out, opening the door and stepping down the stairs.
God, I can’t wait until I have my own place and can limit these not-so-lovelyvisits.
CHAPTERTWO
TRAVIS
WatchingViola’s cheeks turn bright red gives me a thrill every time. She’s easy to rile up and even easier to embarrass. She pretends to hate me, but let’s be honest, there’s hardly anything about me worth hating. Even when she was just ten years old and we’d just met, I could make her blush without even speaking.
I work out every chance I get, eat right, and work my ass off both in and out of the gym. When I’m not lifting weights or at my job, I enjoy other types of recreation.
Currently, her name is Rachel, and she’s basically salivating at the mouth as she waits for me to give her what she’s begging for.
I give in, of course.
I’m a guy, after all.
When we’re both sated and panting next to each other, I clean up and pull my boxer shorts back up. She curls her body around mine and places a quick kiss on my shoulder. “Are you kicking me out now?”
I look over my shoulder and give her a sympathetic grin. “Sorry, babe. No sleepovers.”
That’s not entirely a rule set in stone, but I prefer to sleep alone. Especially if there’s no chance of morning sex the next day. I get up at five a.m. and head to the gym before I have to be to work at eight.
“All right.” She gets up and searches for her clothes. Once she’s dressed, she grabs her purse and walks over for a goodbye kiss. “Call me later.”
“Sure.” I escort her out of the house and kiss her once more before shutting the door. I spin around and nearly run over Viola as she passes in the hall.
“Aw…another victim released. How sweet of you.”
“They aren’t victims if they’re willing,” I retort matter-of-factly.
“Well, they’re airheads if they are.” She continues walking to the kitchen, and I follow reluctantly.
“You sure sound pretty envious.”
“It’s not. It’s pity. There’s a difference.” She opens the fridge and reaches for a bottle of water.
“Trust me…she’s not feeling any amount of pity right about now.” I lean up against the doorframe and watch her take a long drink.
“If not pity, then definitely regret. Or perhaps she’s wondering where the nearest clinic is so she can get tested.” She takes another pull of her water and ignores my glare.
“Just because a woman likes sex doesn’t make her an airhead. But you wouldn’t know that, would you? Not when you keep your V-card hostage like it’s a million-dollar diamond.”
“For the hundredth time, I’m not a virgin!” she retorts sharply. “Just because I don’t spread my legs as much as a gymnast doesn’t mean I’m a prude.”
“Well, it sure as hell doesn’t make you a delight.”
She tosses the bottle out and steps toward me, shoving her shoulder against me as she walks past. “Knowing how to use your dick doesn’t make you a god, Travis.”
I spin around and face her as she walks away. “You speak as if you know from experience.”
“Trust me. The walls are thin. The entire neighborhood knows from experience,” she calls over her shoulder.
