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It was on the fourth day that I finally put my foot down.
Literally, actually.
I’d stomped my foot.
Because that was how frustrating Slash could be at times.
Though, to be fair, I was every bit as immovable at times, so I couldn’t even be mad at him when he’d told me he’d called me out of workagain.
“I need to work,” I insisted, standing in the bathroom doorway, a frothy toothbrush in my hand, finding myself a little annoyed that he looked so damn good when he was being a pain in the ass.
I mean, I’d always known I liked how the man looked without a shirt on, but because of the previous rules, I’d never really been able to drink him in. We were too busy grabbing at each other to memorize each other’s bodies.
But there he was, lounging in bed with one arm cocked up behind his head, his phone on the mattress at his side, giving me a great view of those abs, that chest, those tattoos, and the stupidly appealing face that was smirking at me in my panties and t-shirt.
“It’s only been a couple of days,” Slash insisted, rolling his eyes at me.
Rolling his eyes.
“Hold that thought,” I said, turning to go back into the bathroom, spitting the toothpaste out of my mouth, then moving back out into the bedroom, storming over to the side of the bed.
“Uh oh,” he said, but he was still smirking at me.
“Let’s get one thing straight, shall we?”
“Can’t wait,” he agreed.
Damn him.
He was stupidly hot when he was being all cocky.
“You don’t get to make decisions for me. You’re not my father.”
“Never said I was.”
“And yet you called my work and told my boss that I can’t come in when I am clearly perfectly capable of coming in.”
“First, it was fucking Cill,” he said, shaking his head. “Secon—“
“Ah no. We’re not counting like you haveanyleg to stand on here,” I said. “Let alone two of them.”
He moved so fucking fast that he was a damn blur.
One second, he was lying there on the bed, calm, casual, being cockily insufferable while I glowered down at him.
The next, I was flat on my back on the mattress with him over me.
I won’t lie.
It was fucking hot.
“Second,” he started again as his hips ground down into me, making his cock press against me, “I was planning on fucking you long and hard enough that you wouldn’t be able to walk straight tonight,” he told me. “If you want, I can double-check with Cill to make sure that’s a valid excuse for calling out of work.”
“We could have fucked and I still could have gone into work.”
“Not the way I plan on doing it,” he told me.
My sex clenched tight in anticipation, knowing damn well that the man had the kind of stamina required to literally go all night if he was so inclined.
