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I blink at her, my mouth falling open in shock. But she is so in love with him.
“And you were okay with that?” Disbelief colors my tone. Shelley shrugs, grinning at me.
“I was head over heels in love with him.”
“I’mnotin love with Viper,” I stutter, my hands fidgeting with my coffee cup.
“Are you in vagina-melting lust with him?”
I start to shake my head, my cheeks hot again. I stop after one movement, remembering his mouth… and his dick.
“I don’t know,” I admit slowly. “It was pretty good sex.”
Understatement of the century, but I’m not about to jump on the table and scream about the best two orgasms of my life. They’d never let me back in here.
Shelley shrugs, plucking up her coffee again. “So go with it.”
It sounds so simple. Just go with it. I don’t know if I’m capable of not overthinking things until I’m paralyzed with anxiety, but it’s a nice thought.
I should probably still keep my options open. What if things get weird between us? What if he decides he’s done with me out of the blue and needs me out of his house, A.S.A.P?
“Can you still keep an ear out for any apartments? But don’t let Viper know?” I blurt out.
Shelley’s eyebrows shoot up, and she eyes me carefully. Sighing, she nods.
“Yeah. I’ll tell Lisa too.”
My heart sinks. She knows Viper better than I do. Did she agree because we’re friends? Or because she knows he will eventually ditch me and kick me out of his house? I stare at my coffee again as Shelley cheerfully launches into a description of the new couch she ordered for their apartment.
VIPER
Inhaling the sweet peach scent, my hand gripping her smooth thigh, I thrust harder. A car backfiring has me wrinkling my nose as I wake with a start, rolling over and closing my hand around empty sheets. Fucking hell. That was a hell of a place to be pulled out of a nice dream.
Maybe I’ll go and make it a reality. Shoving the coverlet back, I slide out of bed, tugging on some sweats, so I don’t march into Naomi’s bedroom standing to attention. I tuck my achingly hard cock into the waist of the sweatpants and slip out of my room.
The house is silent, so she must be having a lie-in. God, she probably needs it. I can’t think of anything worse than looking after rugrats every day.
My hand lands on the doorknob, and I hesitate. Should I knock? Nah. Opening it, I peek in, frowning as my eyes land on the neatly made, vacant bed. Weird. I could have sworn the rest of the house was empty.
Leaving her bedroom, I search for her, getting increasingly annoyed with each empty room. She’s not fucking here. I’m saved from thinking she ignored my message last night and packed her things to find a rental because all her shit was still in her room. It’s hard to tell it’s there – she’s so fucking neat, everything tucked away tidily – but it was there.
Returning to my bedroom to retrieve a T-shirt, I tug it on over my head, ignoring my cock. He’s not getting any action – Peaches isn’t here to bury myself balls deep in.
Striding into the kitchen, I make some toast, smearing it with PB&J and eating it over the sink. If Mom were here, she’d scold me for not using a plate, but I don’t see the point of making extra work for myself. Why use a plate when I have a perfectly good sink to catch any crumbs in? And I don’t need to worry about washing up. It’s a win/win situation. Women don’t get it.
She isn’t home when I finish, dusting my hands off and striding back to the living area. The annoyinglyemptyliving room. It’s not like Peaches and I live in each other's pockets. She goes into her bedroom or sits at the table doing shit on her phone if we’re home at the same time. But she’s stillhere.
Not even a fucking note. I turn the TV on, tuning it to ESPN and ignoring it. Anything could have happened to her, and how would I know? I don’t even know where she is. We are going to need to have a conversation about this shit. How am I supposed to keep her safe if I don’t even know where she is?
I’m sitting here, watching a fucking golf game –golf– when the front door finally opens. My head snaps around, my eyes glued to Peaches as she walks through the door. She looks unharmed and unconcerned. Thankfully.
“There you are,” I grunt. Naomi blinks in surprise, leaving her purse on the sideboard and crossing to me, sinking onto the couch opposite me.
“I went for a walk to meet up with Shelley.”
I wait, but she doesn’t elaborate. Instead, she turns her attention to the TV, like she finds golf interesting. Who the fuck findsgolfinteresting to watch? It’s not even interesting toplay. Crossing my arms over my chest, I glare at the side of her face.
I’m reminded of her absoluteballs of steelwhen she ignored Joey’s glaring at her at the clubhouse because she’s not flinching now. It’s like she doesn’t even notice the daggers I’m shooting her. So that’s how she wants to play it, huh? Fine. I turn stiffly back to the TV, watching the Masters. More annoyed than I thought it was possible to be.
