Brooke raises an eyebrow at me. It's got the perfect shape, you know, like the curve of the Gateway Arch, this deep rounded design that makes me want to grab my kit from the car and pierce it. Brooke would look great with a few careful pieces of metal. I like to think of them as accent pieces for the human body, chrome detailing for an already a beautiful sports car. And Brooke, Brooke is a fucking killer sports car.
“What are they doing in South Africa?” she asks as she steps inside and kicks her shoes off by the door, setting her purse on the back of the couch. Before I get a chance to answer, Hubert's exploding from underneath it with a yowl, launching himself up the fabric and arching his back in Brooke's direction.
As soon as she sees him, she lets out a startled scream and I realize I've forgotten to introduce the two of them.
Oops.
“What the hell is this thing?” Brooke asks as Hubert yawns and stretches his ugly little peachy paws out, clawing the crap out of the back of the couch. When he's done, he arches his back again and tries to rub his wrinkly hairless body along Brooke. “Is this a … is this a cat?”
“Uh, yeah. He's mine … well, long story. An ex of mine left him at my place and we've kind of grown close.” I set Sadie down in her crib and move over to pat Hubert on the head. He hisses at me and tries to scratch me, but hey, we're cool.
“Why is he … wearing a sweater?” Brooke reaches out a tentative hand to stroke Hubert's head as I catch my breath and tell my cock to stop dreaming about her frantic, wild touch. She's so … inexperienced and amateur and … God. I want that hand wrapped around my shaft, gripping hard, palm sweating with nervousness as she tries to figure out my body. If Brooke Overland wants to learn what it's like to be with a man, I'd be more than happy to teach her.
No.
No, I would fucking not.
Didn't I just go over all the reasons this girl is bad news? Like, ouch. Clearly, if she's waited this long, she's looking for something “special”. I specialize more in the once in a lifetime variety of loving, if you know what I mean.
Best I just text Kitty Pink Hair a picture of my pierced cock and wait for a response.
If I need a friend with benefits, I can go hit the bars or something.
This here … this is gonna be straight-up platonic.
“He ain't got no hair.” I wink at Brooke and she raises her brows at me, her perfectly arched and begging to be poked brows. I grin again.
“You live in Vegas. As in desert. As in hot.”
“Yeah, but nobody actually hangs out outside. It's all about the A/C, baby. Hub's gets the chills, don't ya, Hubs?”
“Hyoobs?” Brooke asks as she pets the cat and then takes a very calculated step away from me. Damn. Not used to that. Usually girls are trying to find their way closer to little old me. “That sounds like boobs or pubes.”
“Aw, see, look at you rhyming again over there, Smarty-Pants.” That gets me an almost smile as I scratch Hubert's bum and he turns and bites me. Dickhead. “His full name's Hubert. Not my fault. I didn't name the little bastard.”
“It's kind of an ugly name, but then … he's kind of an ugly cat.” I raise my brows at her, but it looks like she's trying to hold back a smile.
“Well, you have kind of an ugly dog,” I answer back, wiggling my brows.
“Yeah, well, he would not have been my first choice either.” That cute little half-smile widens, turning Brooke's young face into something spectacular. I almost whistle. Wow. Wow, wow, wow. I don't usually go for girls like this, the emotionally damaged but ridiculously sexy fresh-faced kind. I like the take-no-crap tattooed, pierced, bitchy sort. But Brooke … she's fucking hot.
There's this long moment where we're just staring at each other. I'm checking her out, loving the way her hip's cocked to one side, her hand resting there with this little pop of attitude. I feel like she's scopin' me out, too, like her eyes are undressing me with a slow burning heat.
Brooke bites her lower lip and causes me to run my tongue across mine.
“Um. I'm home now, so …” Awkward pause. “You can go now.”
I blink a few times as I feel a frown start to take over my face. Huh? What?
“Are you … kicking me out?” I ask and Brooke shrugs, grabbing her purse and heading for the stairs. I follow her with my eyes, mouth gaping as she starts up the steps and glances over her shoulder at me.
“See you again tomorrow? You can bring your stuff over then.”
“Um. Yeah. You got it.”
I pick up my hairless cat, my monsters, and my chihuahuas.
And I leave.
Feeling ten times as intrigued by the girl I shouldn't let myself have than I did before.
Nicely played, Brooke Overland. Nicely played.
I kick Tattoo God out of my house and then watch as his minivan pulls out of the driveway.
Gah.