Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Surprised you’re not working,” Emilio said, tone suggestive enough to have my hackles rising.
“He was. I got him to agree to take a little break,” Saylor said, her voice taking on a tone I hadn’t heard yet. Something, I don’t know, flirtatious. “I can be very convincing,” she went on, laying it on thick as she leaned into me, her fingers toying with one of my shirt buttons.
“I’m sure you can, sweetheart,” Emilio agreed. A retired manwhore, he always appreciated it when I seemed to be picking up the torch he’d lain down. “So, is that your brownie batter coffee creamer in the fridge?” he asked.
“Totally,” Saylor agreed, lying through her fucking teeth. “I love all things chocolate,” she went on, fingers walking up my chest. “So, ah, are you planning to be here for a long visit?” she asked, actually batting her eyelashes at Emilio.
It was so out of character for her that it was taking actual effort not to laugh at her.
“Oh, just a couple minutes, honey,” he said, barely holding back a smile.
“Good. Then I’ll just go get… comfortable then,” Saylor said, confidently walking toward the hallway like she’d been to my place a hundred times before. “Nice meeting you, Emilio,” she called as she went into my bedroom and closed the door.
“She’s pretty as fuck,” Emilio said, turning back to me.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “And you’re keeping me from enjoying all that pretty. So, get the interrogation over with.”
“I’m just checking in,” Emilio said, shaking his head. “Don’t need to get defensive.”
“Milo, we both know it’s never just checking in,” I told him. “Lorenzo trusted me with this. And I’m all over it. You don’t need to look over my shoulder.”
“I’m just looking out for you,” he insisted.
“You’re trying to make sure I don’t make a fool of you,” I said.
“Hey, no, that’s not—“
“I’m a grown man now, Milo,” I said, finding the words I’d been tongue-tied with flowing out easily all of a sudden. “My fuck-ups, if or when they happen, are my own.”
“Fuck,” Emilio said, sighing hard. “Look, I get why it feels like that to you, man. But I honestly never meant to make you feel like I think you’re going to fuck up. I’m just… protective, I guess. And, besides, who am I to comment on fuck-ups? I allowed a fucking spy into my house,” he said, shrugging.
“Then married her,” I agreed.
“I’ll try not to look over your shoulder on this. But I want you to know I’m here, y’know? If you want to bat ideas around. Or if you need backup. Don’t want you to hesitate because you think I’m going to think less of you for needing an extra set of hands. Ma would fucking box my ears if I let anything happen to you. Speaking of,” he said, gaze going to my forehead where I’d whacked it on the desk the night before.
“A little mishap while trying to fuck Saylor on her mother’s desk,” I admitted, getting a big grin out of him.
“I’ve never been a prouder brother in my life,” he said, moving toward the door, and smacking a hand on my shoulder as he went. “Saylor’s waiting for you,” he reminded me. “Try not to get yourself hurt again,” he added, letting himself out.
Alone, I exhaled hard, feeling like a boulder I’d been carrying around for years had just been lifted off of my shoulders.
“You can come out,” I called to Saylor.
She must have been listening at the door because it whipped right open at that.
“Feel better?” she asked, looking at me as she moved into the living room.
“Yeah, actually. Thanks for taking the heat on the coffee creamer. I’d never hear the end of it if he knew it was mine.”
“Brothers love to tease,” she said with the kind of certainty that came from experience.
“I can’t imagine you let your brother tease you,” I said, curious about why she always kind of shut down when he came up in conversation.
“Not anymore,” she said. Then, like an afterthought, she added, “he’s dead.” Then, likely feeling a little too exposed by that admission, she rushed to say, “So, where’s the cash? I looked through your nightstands already,” she admitted. My mind flashed to the contents of my nightstand, hoping there was nothing too embarrassing in there. “It says a lot about you that you keep bandaids and instant icepacks in your top drawer,” she said, smirking. “Right next to your condoms. Because, priorities,” she said, walking into my bedroom, leaving me to follow behind her. “The bottle of lube is considerate of you,” she added.
I’m not proud of the way my mind immediately flashed to her naked on my bed, writhing and begging for more.
Clearing my throat, I moved to the wall, taking down a picture I’d bought off the wall at a coffee shop, and exposing the wall safe.