“I'm Dimitri.” I lean back and continue to ignore my drink. “And, for the record, I rarely come here. Just glad someone else who doesn't have great-grandchildren found their way to this crap hole.”
Her expression and shoulders relax. She takes a drink. “Dimitri. That's Russian, right?”
“Nah, Greek. I think.”
“You're Greek?”
“Not that I'm aware of.” I give in and chug my rum and coke.
“Ah, well, my family is Irish and some Arabic,” she says.
Comparing ancestry reports is not what I have in mind.
She continues. “So, what do you do for a living?”
“Private armed security,” I say. My usual answer. It's not entirely dishonest, and it also helps explain my arsenal if a woman happens to see it between the front door and bedroom. I try to guide the conversation back in the right direction. “You live in Phoenix or just passing through?”
“Live here,” she says.
Damn. Tourists are easier to convince into a wild night.
She glances at her phone and frowns again. She isn't impressed with me whatsoever. I probably should just let her go, but I only have twenty-four hours to catch and release.
And now parts of me are riled up. I really would like to find the rest of her tattoos.
Might as well go all-in.
“Yeah, I live here too,” I say, “and I think it's very important to know thy neighbor.”
She sizes me up. “Don't you mean, 'love thy neighbor'?”
I smile at her. “I'm willing if you are.”
Her eyes glint as she leans forward. “Oh, thank god. I thought we were going to talk about our family history all night or some shit.”
And just like that, it is time to go tattoo hunting.
***
I'm far too drunk to be behind the wheel, so we take Syd's white Chevy Impala. I give directions and admire what's going to be wrapped around me in a few minutes. The more I look, the more I like. I'm sure she's smart and has a great personality and all that, but I don't intend to ever know.
When we pull into my carport, I get out and come around to open the driver side. Syd chuckles as she pulls her purse out of the back seat and follows me to the front door. Come to find out, I can still manage the lock. I push the door open and stand aside. The lights are already on.
Syd steps inside, scoping out the place but pretending she isn't. The house looks far more inconspicuous on the outside.
“Not bad, right?” I shut the door behind us and head toward the kitchen, though I'm sure I'm staggering a little. “Want a drink?”
“No, thanks.” She drops her purse by the couch. “But that answer might change soon.”
I lean back. Her face is dancing with mischief. It's a good look for her. I grab a couple of water bottles from the fridge and nod for her to follow me down the hall.
When I halt in the doorway, she is right behind and nearly bumps into me. I place the bottles on the nightstand and unload my pockets before sitting on the edge of the bed.
I rub a hand over my face. “You sure you good with this?”
She tips back her head a little and runs a finger up and down her slender neck. I would like to pin her against the wall and start from her jaw and work down. But I'm opposed to mauling a woman until she has settled herself on my bed. Seems less pushy that way.
She straightens. “So, let's get the responsible out of the way. You clean?”
“What?” I tear my focus from her neck and meet her gaze. “Me? Yeah.”
“Me, too,” she says, though I could have guessed that since she started the conversation.
“What about the getting knocked up bit?”
“Got that covered,” she says.
I inhale a deep breath and survey her again. She's so tight and made up and fresh. I, on the other hand, just came in from a kidnapping.
“Since we're taking the less passionate route, I'm going to go wash up. Been on the road all day.” I pat the mattress and stand. “Come relax.”
She smiles and crosses my path as I head into the bathroom. A quick splash-bath, some body spray, good to go. I leave my jacket and shirt on the vanity and step back into the bedroom.
Syd is sitting on the mattress, feet planted on the floor, hands on her lap. She smiles up at me, and I'm pretty sure this isn't a typical night for her. I'll do my best to make it memorable.
I lift her chin as I sit next to her and bring her mouth to mine. She tenses, and I keep the urge to strip her down in check. This needs to be on her terms, even if parts of me disagree. After a moment, she relaxes into the kiss. Her arm drapes over my shoulder, and she urges me forward as she lies back on the bed.
My hand slides under her shirt and works its way up to massage her breast. She gives a soft moan, sparking all sorts of ill-mannered thoughts.
I break from the kiss, my lips lingering near hers, and whisper, “I really want to fuck you.”
“You make my girly bits tingle.” She smiles up at me. “But you're pretty drunk. Sure I'm not taking advantage of you?”
“I wish you would,” I say. “That would require you to be on top, though.”