Leave it to me to get caught in such a crazy position with Syn. I shouldn’t feel guilty for shooting him with the pellet gun. In fact, he deserved more than two hits for scaring the bejesus out of me. Thank the lord Syn is trained in medical crap because there’s no way I could have dealt with that myself. He told me exactly what to do and how to do it.
All I did was follow his directions. Not as easy as it sounds with a sexy man between my legs, but I managed. The man has a body made for sex. My thighs clench together when I remember straddling his nearly naked body. Every smooth line and muscle bunched as I pulled the two pellets from his leg and ass.
A giggle bubbles up when I think of the girly squeal he let out as I took the pellet from his firm backside. Allistar, Marak, and Maverick ran in with their guns drawn and made the whole awkward situation even more awkward. The look of shock from the three of them when they found Syn and me is something I’ll never forget.
The buzzing of my phone on the dining room table interrupts my musing. I dropped it when I went after Syn and never picked it back up. He was bleeding, and I was semi-worried about the wimp. Scooping my phone up, I throw the bloody cloth in the trash and the tweezers by the sink for sanitizing. Syn probably doesn’t have cooties, but why risk it?
Whoever called isn’t in my contacts, and the call ends before I can answer. While I pull a Diet Coke from the fridge and debate whether to call the unknown number back, the phone buzzes again. The same number pops up, and I slide my thumb across the screen to answer it.
“Hello?”
No response.
“Hello?” I repeat. If it’s one of those offers for a free cruise and all I have to do is give them my credit card information, I’m going to be pissed.
“Taylor.” The throaty male voice grates at my nerves for some reason. “It’s good to see you.”
My skin prickles in fear. “Who is this?” I turn in a slow circle to subtly check out my windows.
“You may call me master. You’ll want to get used to it now.”
Master? “Who is this? I don’t have time for stupid prank calls from dumb kids. Go bother someone else”.
The man laughs darkly. “You’ll know me a lot better once you come home with me where you belong. I saw you that day, when you tried to run. I knew then you’d be my new toy, and I only needed a bit of time to make the arrangements for your...training. If those idiots weren’t caught, I’d have what’s mine by now, and you would be on your way to becoming a well-trained pet.”
My mind goes blank as fear grips my body. The can of soda in my hand slips, dropping to the floor and exploding all over the cabinets.
The guys race into the kitchen, probably to see what the loud pop was. With the four of them near me again, I’m able to pull myself back to the present. The douchebag on the other end of the line can’t get to me with SWAT and police all over my apartment. When the man’s heavy breathing comes through the phone, I realize I never answered him.
My shock turns quickly to anger. “I won’t call you anything except a sick son of a bitch. How the hell did you get this number?”
Marak raises a brow, mouthing, “Who is it?”
I wave him off, not sure what to say. It isn’t like the guy gave me his name, address, and social security number. Marak frowns, and Syn scowls. I scowl back but get distracted when the man talks again.
“My, my, my, we are going to need to teach you some respect for your owner.” He sighs heavily, and my nose wrinkles with disgust. “I really think we will have so much fun teaching you how to be a good little bitch. Don’t you, Taylor?”
My nerves must show on my face because the second I turn to face the guys again, Maverick grabs for my phone. A quick smack has both his jaw and hand dropping at the same time. Syn and Marak point at Maverick and giggle like little girls. Allistar looks to the sky, clearly exasperated. Allistar puts a hand on Maverick’s shoulder when he takes a step toward me, his focus completely on my phone. He may be stronger, but I’d have no qualms jabbing him in the junk if he tried to take my phone again.
The prick called me, not them, and I’m going to make sure he knows he’s messing with the wrong girl. “Listen here, you shit spitter. You’ve got half of the state’s law enforcement looking for you, and they’re all on my side. Either you’re bluffing, or you’re stupider than you look.”
“Put the fucking phone on speaker.” Maverick’s angry whisper distracts me, but I do as he asks with a heavy roll of my eyes.
Allistar cringes, shooting me an apologetic look for his friend. His whisper is much softer, “He means, please.”
A menacing growl sounds, pulling our attention back to the phone. “Now, it’s your turn to listen, bitch. I own you, you are mine, and I always get what’s mine. The cops haven’t caught me, and they never will. I’m always one step ahead. They’re not nearly as smart as I am, and I have quite a lot of people on my side as well.”
“I have neither the time nor the crayons to explain this at a level you’ll understand. You’ve got no way to get to me. You’ve gone from hunter to hunted. Maybe if you give yourself up, they won’t kill you. No promises from me, though.”
The guys look incredulous, but I’m too pissed to be afraid of this idiot. “I have a very good way to get to you, Taylor. A few of them actually.”
The sureness in his tone has my stomach dropping, and the bravado I had moments ago dwindles. “Like what?”
“Like those two friends of yours, Evelyn Porter and Michelle Christie, or her husband, Dylan. Perhaps your grandfather? You call him Grumpy, I believe.” Shit. How does he know about them? What would he do to them in order to get to me? “Think about what’s more important to you. The safety of your family and friends or your safety. I can guarantee I’ll let you live, but I won’t make promises for them or anyone else who may stand in my way. I’ll be in touch.”
The line goes dead as the first tear drops from my eye, followed by a flood of hundreds more. Allistar takes the phone from me, handing it off to Marak, before he scoops me into his arms. He doesn’t say anything at first, no one does.
Allistar eventually carries me to my couch. He sits down, then situates me sideways on his lap with his arms still protectively around me. The comfort his embrace brings me is something I don’t have the time or energy to think about. His arms firmly holding me ease the shakes that always come when I get upset.
Hushed voices from the other side of the room catch my attention, and I look up to find Syn and Maverick with their heads bent together. Maverick has a phone in his hands, but it isn’t mine. With a quick scan of the room, I find Marak on the opposite end of the couch, my phone in one hand and a different phone in the other.
He glances toward me, his eyes softening. “I’m having some people track the number that called you, Red. I promise I’m not going through your pictures or anything.”
His teasing earns him an unladylike snort. “All you’d find are a bunch of memes and pictures of me and the girls.”
Marak wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “You and the girls, huh?”
Kicking my foot out at his thigh, I gain some satisfaction when he grunts upon impact. He mock glares at me, even as his lips twitch with hidden amusement. “I’ll get you back for that, Red.”
“Yeah, I’m really afraid of you.” My tone drips with sarcasm as I sniffle back a few tears.
“Okay, children,” Maverick calls out, effectively putting a stop to the staring contest between me and Marak. “Grumpy is on his way over. Evelyn, Michelle, and Dylan are, apparently, out of town with their families.”
Allistar shifts slightly and nods at Maverick. His small movement reminds me of my position on his lap, and I wonder if he does this for all the girls they help. No one seems to find his form of comfort odd, so I remain silent in his lap. “So that’s three people we don’t need to worry about.”
A thought occurs to me suddenly, and I turn back to Maverick. “How’d you find out the girls are out of town?”
“We managed to get their numbers before you were discharged from the hospital. We wanted them to be able to contact us in case anything happened,” Marak answers instead, but Maverick nods a confirmation.
The logic behind their excuse is sound, but my bitchy side rears its ugly head. I want to yell at them for asking for my best friends’ phone numbers. There’s no good reason for me to be upset; the four of them reserve the right to ask anyone for a phone number. Michelle probably gave hers up easily because she worries too much. Evelyn probably gave hers for a completely different reason. She is like my sister—I love her to death and I always will—but the woman has seen more action than a ten-dollar hooker on payday. If she wasn’t the one who said those exact words to me and Michelle last time we talked about our sex lives, I would probably be labeled a terrible friend. Since she said it first, though, I’m allowed to simply agree. At least that’s how she said it works.
It isn’t as if I have a claim on any of the guys. They probably have girlfriends or wives somewhere. Hell, Evelyn would be a catch for any of them, and if they don’t see that, then they’re idiots. But the jealousy simmers anyway. What if one of them texts Evelyn for a date? Would it be horrible of me to be upset over it? Saying it out loud would never happen, but I hate that the thought even popped into my head.
“Shit.” Marak drops his phone onto the coffee table harder than necessary and sets mine, only slightly softer, next to it. Everyone turns to him, my confusion and frustration pushed to the side for now. “The number was from a burner. There’s no way to trace the call.”
Before anyone can respond to Marak, a hard knock sounds from the front door, scaring the holy hell out of me and putting all the guys on edge. It only takes me a second to come to my senses and get up to answer the door. “Guys, a psychotic douchebag isn’t going to knock on the damn door and ask me if I’d like to go for a stroll. Come on, isn’t this your job?”
“We’re being cautious, brat.” Syn takes my hand before I make it to the door, tugging me back a few steps to his side. Allistar stands from the couch to take my place and answer the door. “We aren’t about to deliver you on a golden platter to the guy.”
“It’s silver platter, genius,” Marak corrects, shaking his head at Syn.
“What the fuck ever, she knew what I meant.”
“You still need to say it right, or it makes you sound like a dipshit.”
“I’d rather sound like one than look like one.”
“If ya boys keep on with yer bitchin’, I’ll give ya both somethin’ ta bitch ‘bout.” Grumpy’s threat from the other side of the door stops Marak and Syn’s bickering.
Allistar quickly opens the door for Grumpy, who scowls at the four men. Grumpy has a shockingly powerful way of making grown men and women feel twelve years old again. His magical powers show themselves in the form of Syn and Marak’s contrite expressions this time.
Grumpy comes farther into the apartment, hugging me tightly as he walks by. He takes a seat on the couch Allistar and I vacated moments ago. “One a y’all best be tellin’ me what in the good goddamn I’m doin’ o’er here, ‘stead a loadin’ ma shotgun ta get huntin’ this prick.” His drawl is thicker than usual. He may be hiding his anxiety, but I know him too well. “Ya can’t go callin’ a poor ol’ man, sayin’ there’s a crazy bastard callin’ his little girl. Then expect ‘em ta go ‘n do nothin’ ‘bout it.”
“We have no idea where he is,” Syn reminds him. “He could be in fucking Egypt for all we know.”
Something the guy said on the phone flashes in my memory. “He said he could see me.”
All eyes turn to me.
“What’re ya mumblin’ ‘bout Tayter-Tot?”
“When the guy called—we really need to give him a name by the way, like Douchy McCreeperson. Anyway, he said it was good to see me. Not hear but see.” The memory of his voice sends a nasty chill through my body.
Marak puts his right arm across the back of the couch behind me, his hand rubbing small, comforting circles on my back. "He could have been bluffing. We don't know for sure he's even in the country. Also, we have an alias for him, Paul Pearson. Though, Taylor’s nickname is way better."
"Should we even take the risk?" Allistar speaks out, his brow furrowed with worry.
"You guys can't lock me up in my apartment or some crap. I'm not going to let Pearson, or McCreepearson as he should be named, dictate my life."
The four of them share a loaded look, and my stomach drops. "What? Why are you looking at each other like that? Knock it off. Use your words."
Maverick speaks up first. "Maybe you shouldn't be alone for a while, Taylor."
At first, No way in hell am I going to agree to a babysitter, comes to mind. But before I can start bitching at everyone for even thinking about such a dumb idea, Grumpy speaks up. "Maybe it ain’t such a bad idea fer ya ta have a bit more protection, Tayter-Tot."
A quick scan of the guys shows worry to some degree on all of them. Even Grumpy seems concerned. His kick ass, take names, then ask questions attitude has always been something I admire about him. He doesn't like to worry about crap; he finds ways to take care of it. If he's worried, you know the situation is serious.
It isn't like I'm burying my head in the sand. Clearly, I'm in danger, and I need to be careful. But I've gotten used to living on my own, and I don't want to move back in with Grumpy no matter how much I love him. He’ll smother me metaphorically, and in turn, I’ll smother him literally.
"Maybe she can stay with us," Syn offers. His suggestion shocks the hell out of me.
“Us?” I squeak.
Syn nods. “We’re roommates. We have a spare room, and it would make sense.”
"Actually, that may not be a bad idea." Maverick scratches his jaw as he contemplates Syn’s suggestion. "We would be able to keep a better eye on her if she's with us all the time, and between the four of us, someone would always be watching."
"Okay, first of all," I shout, then jump to my feet and plant my hands on my hips, "I’m standing right in front of you, so quit talking about me like I don't have a say in what happens in my life. Second, I don't need to go anywhere. I can look after myself or maybe even stay a few days with Grumpy. Third... Well, I don't have a third thing, except you're irritating me."
By the time I finish my rant, my feet have taken me from in front of the couch to less than a foot from Maverick. His lips twitch with amusement, an action I think is probably rare for him. If he wasn't so damn big, I'd probably hit him, but the odds of me hurting my hand in the process are greater than causing him any pain. A good crotch shot might be an option if he keeps up the crap, though.
"Okay, Rambo, let's calm down a little bit," Syn steps next to his friend. His soft eyes shine with mirth. "We should probably talk about this calmly and come to an agreement. We don't want to tie you to a bed and make you stay there until the bad guys are caught."
Maverick chokes, his hazel green eyes wide as he elbows Syn in the ribs. Maybe he does want to lock me up instead of having me stay with them. The debate as to which one is better rages in my mind. Would I rather go spend an undetermined amount of time living with four incredibly annoying and sexy men or just have them lock me up in a holding cell for a few weeks? Such a tough decision.
"I'm not leaving Grumpy with no protection," I remind them. "If I stay with him, maybe I can protect him and myself."
"Taylor." Allistar sighs and comes to me. He puts his hands on my shoulders, ducking his head to reach my height. His sexy as hell dark blond hair falls a bit into his eyes, and my hand twitches with the urge to reach up and brush it away. He has amazingly soft hair and to run my fingers through it would probably feel so good.
"We need you to understand something." Allistar brings me back to the conversation instead of ogling him like a freak. "This guy won’t stop until he finds you and takes what he believes is his. Until he takes you. There is no way for you to protect yourself or Grumpy on your own. If you want to be safe, if you want him safe, you'll listen to us."
If a plea could be made to sound hot, Allistar would be the one to do it. His eyes never leave mine as I think things over in silence. His hands remain on my shoulders, an odd comfort rather than an annoyance.
In reality, I know my choices are limited. Option one would be to stay in my apartment and serve myself up to McCreepearson on a silver platter. Option two, I can move in with Grumpy for a while and hopefully keep him safe, though it isn’t likely. Finally, option three, move in with Allistar, Marak, Syn, and Maverick.
No one knows how long the arrangement would be for. It could be two days or two months. Is there really any other smart way to handle the completely fucked up situation, though? Nothing comes to mind, and I groan loudly at the realization of what I need to do.
"Okay, I have some conditions though," I say, then step away from Allistar. Being close to any of them turns me into a drooling preteen at a boy band concert. Maybe if I got laid, I'd stop undressing them with my eyes and calm the hell down.
"We're listening." Marak gestures for me to sit back on the couch next to him.
I comply with a heavy plop onto the couch then roll my head back. "Honestly, I cannot believe I'm agreeing to this crap. But if I stay with you guys, Grumpy needs to come, too."
"Ain’t gonna happen, Tayter-Tot," Grumpy growls, crossing his arms in defiance. "I ain't gonna go livin’ with a buncha boys ‘n their loud music ‘n shitty video games ‘n fast food crap."
"You're not staying at your place alone. If you won't go someplace safe, then neither will I."
Grumpy frowns momentarily before his eyes light up. "I'll give yer cousin down in Oklahoma a holler. I ain't seen that shithead in ‘bout two years. He's always gripin’ at me ta come’n see ‘im. Now’s as good a time as any, I'd say."
"Isn't Howard my second cousin?"
"Ya really fixin’ ta get into the details of our damned family tree right this minute, Tayter-Tot?"
"I'm just saying, I think he'd be considered a second cousin to me. Maybe a third cousin? I don't know, I need to look that up again. I mean, he's more like an uncle, and you guys used to call him my uncle Howard, but then suddenly he was my cousin." The couch behind me vibrates with Marak's silent laughter. "Do you know how confusing that is to a kid? Hey, this is your cousin, but he's like an uncle, but he isn't an uncle, he's a cousin, but you can call him uncle."
Grumpy rolls his eyes. "Oh, for pity sake, Tayter-Tot. Shut yer trap ‘n let the boys finish hearin' ‘bout yer half-assed demands. I'm gonna step into yer room ‘n give yer uncle cousin Howard a ring."
"Now, we just sound like a crazy hick family," I call to him as he hurries away from my banter. "I think I'll call you Uncle Grandpa from now on."
"Only if ya wanna pick a switch, girl!" he shouts back with humor in his tone.
With a giggle, I turn back to the guys spread around my living room. "My only other demand is that I will be going to work, the store, and any other places when I want to. I'm not going to wait for a chaperone or bodyguard. If you guys want to tag along, that's fine, but if you're busy and I need to get to work or something, I'm doing it."
"How?" Syn asks, raising a curious brow.
"How what?"
"How do you plan to go places on your own?" He smirks.
I frown, not understanding his question. "I have a driver’s license, Syn. I know how to operate a motor vehicle."
"Smart ass," he mumbles. "I meant, what car would you take? That beetle in your driveway is dead as a doornail. Unless you want to spend a lot of money on the sucker, there's no bringing it back from the grave."
Shit. I'd forgotten about my ladybug going belly up on me. Still, I refuse to give in and agree to be toted around all over. "I'll take a bus or call for an Uber."
"The hell you will." Maverick's voice rises, and his anger turns his cheeks an adorable shade of red. He probably wouldn't appreciate the compliment if I said it out loud, though, so I keep my mouth shut and let him flip his lid. "You've got a sex ring operator, potential murderer threatening you and promising to take you and use you as a damn toy. You're not going to take a fucking public bus alone or whatever other crazy half-assed ideas you have. One of us will always be with you, problem solved."
Finally, I can't hold it in anymore. A Cheshire cat grin takes over my face, and Maverick frowns, probably confused by the reaction. "You're really adorable when you get all mad, and your cheeks turn bright red like that."
He freezes, completely caught off guard. Syn and Marak dissolve into fits of laughter, and even Allistar chuckles a bit. Maybe they took it as a joke, but I was being genuine. He's really cute when he's mad. His normal frown and crossed arms are rough and sexy. The bulk of his arms and the way his lips press into a hard line all the time make me want to kiss the tension out of him. But when he gets all upset like he is now, he lets loose and gets some of his pent-up frustration out. As strange as it sounds, I like angry Maverick.
Grumpy interrupts Maverick’s fish-like gaping when he stomps into the room. The man cannot walk quietly. He’d make a terrible spy.
“God Almighty, the kid never shuts his yapper. Anyhow, it’s all fixed up. Howard bought a plane ticket quicker’n yer cousin Jimmy atta pie eatin’ contest. Said he’d be scoopin’ me up tonight when I land. Now, I gotta get ta gettin’. My plane leaves in three hours n’ I gotta pack my crap.”
He shoves his phone back into his pocket and pulls me in for a big hug. He whispers quietly so only I can hear him, “Don’t ya go gettin’ hurt’r nothin’ while I’m gone, Tayter-Tot. I don’t wanna have ta tan yer hide.”
Tears sting the back of my eyes. Being far away from Grumpy is never easy for me, but if it means he’s safe, I’ll suck it up.
With my arms wrapped around him, I give him a hard squeeze. “You be safe too, old man.”
“I love the hell outta you, Tayter-Tot.”
“I love the hell outta you, Grumpy.”
He pulls back and spins around to face the men who remained silent during our quick goodbyes. Grumpy and I can’t handle long, sappy goodbyes. We get it out, then we get gone. It’s how we work.
The suddenness of Grumpy’s action startles them, and their eyes widen simultaneously. “Which one a ya boys is takin’ me home ‘n ta the airport?”
They exchange glances, probably waiting for someone to bite the bullet and volunteer. No one speaks up, and Grumpy huffs loudly. “Well don’t everyone go ‘n volunteer at once, now.”
“I’ll take you,” Syn offers finally. “I have my car here. The others will need Maverick’s truck to get everyone back to the house with Taylor’s stuff.”
“I’m not going to your house tonight.” Syn spins and pins me with a glare. He doesn’t scare me; he has too much humor in his eyes to truly pull off a glare, anyway. “I need to pack my stuff and sort things out before I just up and leave. I can come over tomorrow morning. One night isn’t gonna kill me.”
“It fucking might!” he shouts, throwing his arms up in the air. “That’s the whole damned point of you coming to stay with us, Taylor. So, no one gets killed.”
Crossing my arms over my chest in defiance, I turn my nose up to him. “I’m spending the night here. I need time to prepare, and I’m not going to deal with packing right now.”
Grumpy growls, clearly annoyed. “I gotta get home ‘n pack up all ma shit tonight, why the hell can’t you?”
My eyes roll upward. Men can be so clueless. “Because you only need to pack your clothes and hopefully, remember a change of socks and a toothbrush. I have my makeup, my hair crap, my shoes, and everything else that makes me a girl that I need to get together and pack.”
While Grumpy shakes his head, Syn appears to consider my logic before nodding. “Okay, yeah, I can see that. Girls have a lot of crap. At least, I know my sisters and my mom always did.”
My interest piques at the chance to know more about Syn. “How many sisters do you have?”
“Four. Two older, two younger. They’re up for grabs if you want some siblings. Just don’t tell my mom, she yelled at me last time I tried to trade them for baseball cards.”
The idea of having siblings always appealed to me, though I’d never want my mother to procreate again. Grammy and Grumpy laughed when I put a little sister on my birthday list two years in a row. Grammy said she was done having little ones, and they only had enough love and energy for me.
“I’ll stick with being an only child, it’s probably for the best. The world can only handle one person like me.”
Realistically, having more young kids to raise wouldn’t have been a good idea for Grumpy and Grammy. It was a miracle they managed to raise me without going completely insane. The amount of trouble my best friends and I would get into was enough to make a grown man cry. With broken bones, cuts, scrapes, falls, adventures that got us lost, and the tendency to piss off our teachers, it’s lucky the three of us survived into adulthood.
“A’righty, Smurf boy, let’s git ta gettin’.” Grumpy points at Syn then to the door.
The two of them leave Allistar, Marak, and me in hysterics. Even Maverick cracks a smile. Grumpy obviously came up with the name because of Syn’s silvery blue hair, but I happen to like it. The color brings out his eyes and suits his playful personality well, though he’ll never live down the nickname.
Maverick regains his composure before the rest of us. “Alright, if you insist on staying the rest of the night here, one of us will need to stay with you.” He must sense the impending argument because he holds up a hand, stopping me before I can open my mouth. “Taylor, just let one of us stay here with you. It’s not babysitting, it’s taking the appropriate measures to ensure your safety.”
The hard look of determination from Maverick gives me little hope of winning a war over staying home alone tonight. To have one of them with me would bring a bit of security anyway.
“Fine, I’ll go track down my extra blankets. Let me know who draws the short straw.” With that, I turn and leave the room.
My excuse for leaving the room is bullshit. The extra blankets live on the top shelf of my bedroom closet, no searching necessary. But my mind might explode if I don’t get a second to sort through my thoughts.
My life used to be boring. Going out on Friday nights with Evelyn and Michelle was as crazy as things got for me. The occasional date with a loser, flirting with our favorite bartender, Greg, and needing to call an Uber because we drank one too many were the highlights of my life. My job is great, but it’s not exactly the most exciting career. School was never like those college books and movies I’ve seen. I went to class, did my work, came home, and studied. On occasion, I find time to get really wild and paint or draw for fun. The walls of my apartment are decorated with my work, and Michelle, Evelyn, and Grumpy have several of my creations in their places, too.
Now, I’ve got some crazy bastard after me, hoping to train me to be his kinky trick pony. My two best friends left town, and now, they need to stay away for who knows how long so they don’t die because of me. Grumpy is off to visit my uncle cousin Howard. And then there’s the small detail of the four hot men I’ll be living with for god knows how long.
At first, I figured my attraction to them was some warped hero worship type thing. I’ve been free and away from them for a while now, yet the jerks won’t leave my damn mind. There must be a dozen or more times I’ve thought about each of them and more than half of those times included images of them naked. In my imagination, all four of them look damn good naked.
When Syn showed up, scaring me to death and getting himself shot in the ass, I thought maybe he was the one I really have feelings for. He’s too fun and hilarious. With his dark tan contrasting against his soft blue eyes and matching hair, he would draw the attention of any girl, and even a few guys, in a room. The confident way he carries himself turns me on more than I’d ever admit. At the same time, he makes it easy to be around him. He can take it as good as he gives it, and he doesn’t hold back because I’m a girl. Seeing him in only his boxers, lying on my bed, was the highlight of my week. Syn has a really nice ass. It will have a small pellet shaped scar on it once he finishes healing, but that doesn’t make it any less round or firm. It took a lot of effort not to pinch it while I attempted to patch him up.
My hope of Syn being the only one to keep my attention was destroyed when Maverick, Marak, and Allistar showed up like my three knights in shining armor, or maybe dorks in tin foil, but either way, it was sweet of them to rush over. It was perfect timing with the phone call I got.
Maverick had a murderous glint in his eyes when he realized McCreepearson was threatening me. My heart gives a hard squeeze at his protectiveness. A few other things give a squeeze when his arms flex, and he gave me several playful glares throughout the evening. My imagination went wild with ideas of how I could get that playfulness to come out in other ways.
My stupid, deprived body decided lust for two crazy hot men wasn’t enough. Allistar took care of me, held me when I cried. He didn’t call me a sissy for my freak-out. Even though my tears soaked his shirt, he didn’t utter a single complaint. He simply made sure I was okay. He managed to convince me to go along with this crazy idea and he did it in a sexy way.
Marak had to go and be sweet and flirty with me. He’s the only one who has a nickname for me. He calls me Red because of my auburn red hair, and I kind of like it. His humor mixed with his reassurance draws me in, and I don’t want to leave his side. While we sat next to each other on the couch, I wanted to take off the beanie he always wears and run my hands over his light brown hair. The small bit of hair that peeks out from the beanie tempts me. Would it be long enough to give a good tug? It would be a fun game to find out. Even though he never stops talking, he manages to make me feel at ease. My skin still burns where he drew soothing circles on my back. My shirt prevented skin-on-skin contact, but it didn’t stop me from wishing we had a lot more body parts and skin in contact.
Spending more than twenty minutes under the same roof with the four of them might be the end of me or the end of my irritatingly long dry spell. We’re all adults, in age at least. If they’re not attached to anyone, why can’t I have fun? Evelyn always tells me to go for it. Maybe this time I’ll take her advice. It isn’t as if I’d break any sort of law or make any commitments. It would be like scratching an itch.
My resolve hardens. If one of them shows the same interest in me as I have in them, I won’t say no to some fun. If Michelle were here, she’d be suggesting that one of them could be my happy ending.