“Oh, yeah, I didn’t think about that,” I admit as I look at my bare feet. “So, when is Detective Michaels going to be here?” I try to act as if I’m not nervous, but I know he sees it.
“I’m going to go grab a pair of your shoes for you and then I’m calling Max to see if we can meet them somewhere else.” Before I can ask why, thinking I’d much rather do this at home, he adds, “I doubt the living room will be cleaned before the police arrive, and right now it looks and smells like a scene from a bar brawl. They’d probably lock my ass up because there is no way they would believe you did all of that.”
I look at him in amazement, unable to believe he’s actually laughing at his assessment of the wreck in the other room. I am completely appalled to have done something like that to his home. He should be kicking me out, not shaking in laughter. Despite myself, I am unable to stop the grin from fully forming on my mouth. “It’s not funny,” I attempt to scold both him and myself. “It’s going to cost a lot of money to clean and replace everything I’ve broken.” He just continues to laugh until I add, “I mean it; I’m paying you back. I’m all healed except for my wrist and fingers, so I can start cleaning again.” His laugh morphs into a scowl before I can complete my sentence.
“Don’t even start that with me, baby. You aren’t my housekeeper, and you’re not going to be.” When I start to protest, he suddenly looks serious. “Please don’t worry about paying for some broken glassware. What you bring to me just by being in my life is priceless. Hell, baby, I owe you if anything. I should be your housekeeper because I’ll never be able to repay you for what you’ve given me.”
“No, no, no,” I whisper as my eyes water. He lifts a brow, looking bemused by my reaction to his sweet declaration. “Um…sorry, I just don’t want to cry again. It seems like that’s all I do anymore. You’re just so sweet to me.”
He looks slightly offended and then just downright …wicked when he steps between my parted thighs and presses his quickly hardening cock against my core. “I’ve got your sweet right here…”
I drop my head onto his shoulder, shaking with laughter. “You did not just say that. Hello, Lucian Quinn, some horny high school boy called and wants that line back.”
“Oh, really,” he purrs against my throat as he thrusts tighter against me. “How many ‘boys’ have that?” I’m helpless to contain the moan which works its way from my throat. He turns his head and bites my ear, causing a jolt of pleasure to shoot straight to my core.
“Don’t start anything we can’t finish,” I warn him as I wrap my legs around his waist to pull him even closer. My panties are flooded as I rub myself against his hard length, completely lost in the moment.
In the blink of an eye, he pulls back, causing my legs to drop. “You’re right; we don’t have time for this now. Lock and load ‘em, baby,” he says as he walks out of the room, leaving me stunned and not just a little frustrated.
“WHAT. THE. HELL?” I say to myself as I continue to gape after him, thinking he’s going to suddenly turn and come back to put me out of my horny misery. What a perfect end to a messed-up day. I wreck Lucian’s apartment, cry more than a newborn baby, and finally leave crotch drool all over his granite countertops. Okay, maybe the last part is a little bit exaggerated, but if not for my layers of clothing, it would be true. Now, dammit, I can’t get down. Couldn’t he have set me next to one of the stools? Well, I could jump, but I’m afraid of jarring the cast on my wrists or my fingers if I land wrong. I’m shifting onto my stomach so I can try to shimmy down when a loud smack on my ass has me squealing. Luckily, the arm now wrapped around my waist sets me gently on my feet before I can fall on my face. “Ouch,” I grumble, holding my stinging butt cheek.
He looks completely unrepentant as he says, “You know you loved it.” All right, so what if I did—I’m not about to admit it to him. Instead, I take the tennis shoes he is holding out to me and wedge my feet inside them without untying the laces. He just shakes his head but wisely holds his tongue. “We’re going to meet Detective Michaels at Max’s house. I told him our apartment was in the middle of renovations, and we needed another place.”
I stick my tongue out at his continued playful jabs over my earlier tantrum. The man is truly not right; otherwise, he’d find nothing amusing about having his multi-million dollar apartment trashed by his crazy girlfriend. “So, where does Max live?” I ask, picturing something similar to Lucian’s home.
“Actually he has a house a few miles from my aunt. He hates the downtown area. He never understood why I bought a place here.”
I realize I know nothing about the man who is Lucian’s friend, as well as his lawyer. Curious, I ask, “So, he’s not married, right?” Okay, so maybe I’m interested for Rose, in the name of sisterhood and all that.
“Nope,” he replies without expounding on his answer.