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I liked that she talked to me, not because I was Crisis from Tear Asunder because I knew she didn’t give a crap about that, but for me. I caught snippets of who she was underneath the fucked-up and I wanted more snippets. Damn it, I wanted all of them.
The smell of coffee wafted under the door and I shoved back the covers. I got up, brushed my teeth, and thought about jerking off, but the idea of Haven standing in the kitchen making coffee had me skipping the latter.
I walked down the hall, pulled the elastic band on my boxers and glanced at my hard throbbing cock. “You’ll have to wait a little longer, buddy.”
“Are you really talking to your cock?”
I let go of the elastic and it snapped hard on my abdomen. Haven wasn’t making coffee; she was coming up the stairs with an armful of clothes. Fuck, she looked hot, long blonde hair messy as if she’d tossed and turned in her sleep, and she had sleepy eyes—adorable.
“Yeah. He’s angry this morning.” I stood right in the middle of the top of the stairs so if she wanted to get by, she’d need to brush up against me. It was childish, but fuck, I was a guy.
Her brows lifted. “Why is he angry?”
I smirked, loving that she was down for a little play. “Placed an ‘out of order’ sign on him.” Her brows drew together and her eyes flicked to my tented boxers.
“Doesn’t look out of order.”
I laughed and couldn’t help myself as I stroked the back of my hand down her cheek. It took her by surprise and she swayed backwards. I grabbed her arm before she toppled down the stairs and pulled her up onto the landing next to me.
A white piece of clothing slipped from the pile she was holding and fell at her feet. I smirked when I realized what it was, and took great pleasure in helping her out since there was no way she could bend over and get it without everything falling from her grasp.
I let her go and crouched, picking up the white lace panties. I held them out and her nose twitched like a rabbit sensing danger. “I like white. Prefer pink though, for future notice. And lace I love.”
She was trapped because if she snatched them from my hand, she’d drop the clothes and if she didn’t then . . . I curled them up in my palm.
“They aren’t mine,” she blurted.
God, she was cute. “Darlin’ I know they are and I love that you’re denying it. Means you care.”
Now that raised a little heat in her cheeks and I liked it. Shit, I liked it a lot because when I left a few months back, that would’ve never happened and now that was twice. She was affected by me—good to know. “I don’t care.”
I shrugged. Then turned to head back to my room to hide my newly acquired treasure. I had no doubt she’d search for them the second I left the house. I looked back over my shoulder and caught her eyes staring at my butt; could’ve been my back, but unlikely. Really, it didn’t matter which. I was just impressed she was eyeing me up.
“You can look, but don’t touch,” I said.
Her mouth dropped open then snapped shut. I disappeared around the corner, then heard her stomping down the hall. Haven wasn’t a stomper. She was graceful, elegant and controlled. Too controlled. And that part of her was coming down.
I laughed to myself, then hid her lace underwear in my room. I went downstairs, and grabbed coffee that I knew Kite had made because he had his mug sitting beside the coffeemaker.
Dana, who had slept on the couch, must have heard me in the kitchen. I saw her arms stretch above her, then her head popped up over the back of the couch. As soon as she saw me standing half-naked in the kitchen, her eyes widened in what looked like horror.
Luckily, I was pretty confident—okay, overly confident—about my body and there was no way that was what scared her. She frantically straightened her hair and clothes, keeping her body turned away from me. My guess, she was more concerned about how she looked hung-over first thing in the morning.
“You look like hell.” Girls were funny about how they looked in the morning. Most of the girls I’d been with didn’t stay the night, but a few had and not one of them was confident about their appearance in the morning. “How do you feel? Want some coffee? Kite will be back down any minute.” I smirked. She looked as if she idolized Kite more than me, and that got her moving faster as she darted around looking for her purse. “On the floor by the TV,” I graciously offered.
“Ahhh, yeah, thanks. Tell Haven I’ll talk to her later.” She darted out the door.
“Sure thing, beautiful.”
She was already gone.
I drank my coffee while I watched the news for a half-hour, then went and showered. I jerked off in the shower thinking about Haven in that little black number last night. I hadn’t planned on it, but fuck, she was in my head and my cock was aching, balls hurting. There was no way I could hang with her today without being in physical pain unless I got myself off.
I tugged on a pair of worn-out jeans and a t-shirt, tagged my phone off the dresser, then headed downstairs to meet Haven for her first driving lesson.
I glanced at the clock on my phone—9:06 a.m. gleamed in the middle of the screen. After the panty incident I put a load of laundry in, but it was more like threw them in, taking out my frustration on the clothes. Why was I frustrated? There was no reason to be, except Crisis was getting to me. In one day. One day.
Of course, he knew the panties were mine. There was no one else currently living in the house. And why would he take them? It was silly. I was unaccustomed to silly and childish games. My entire life had been about survival right from childhood.
