Like now, as I’m roused from a much-needed dead sleep with the familiar inkling that I’m being watched, and without opening my eyes, by who.
That knowledge jolts me alert, and my eyes pop open to see her standing just outside the guest bathroom. Even feet away, it’s easy to make out the lust in her expression. Seeing she’s just as turned on as she was hours ago, I remain motionless, conveniently but unintentionally spread out for her viewing pleasure.
Taking her time, she soaks in every bared inch of me before settling her gaze on my cock. A cock that’s already betraying me as it stirs at the sight of her looking freshly fucked, lips swollen, wearing nothing but Sean’s T-shirt.
Her own alarm bells kick off as she senses my stare just before her desire-filled blue eyes fly to mine and widen. The now familiar electricity passes between us, my answering stare full of dare as I flick my gaze to my cock. A cock that now stands full fucking mast. I lift my chin a fraction just as she sputters out an apology before scurrying away like . . . a fucking mouse.
As Sean’s door quietly closes due to Cecelia’s hasty retreat, I can’t help but feel for the son of a bitch for his latest bold move. Intentional or not, he’s been baiting me with her since she got here. It’s past time for his wake-up call and hers.
Gloves off, sweetheart.
“Cha-ching.”
The ping jars me from the image of Cecelia running her hands along my dick when we faced off in the kitchen yesterday. I’d done my worst, and even in doing it, the hum of attraction was there, only strengthening with our latest sparring match. This one heavily incited by me. She’d given just as good as she got, but Sean’s latest test backfired in the end. He’d purposely left her in my path, again, and failed to make his point, again. She’s nowhere near ready or has the strength to endure the trials of being in our world. The more he tries, the more his efforts have proven futile.
The Dead Sergeants ring out through my earbuds as I eye the new balance in our piggy bank. Scanning the Nasdaq feed when the exchange opens for the day, the local news simultaneously pops up, streaming on another screen. Satisfaction thrums through me when I search for and discover Spencer’s company stock is plummeting according to plan. Once we’ve gathered enough evidence to bury him for the guns we found at the warehouse, it’s RIP for Spencer and onto the next target. Just as I think it, my phone rattles with an incoming text from Tyler.
T: Meet you at the garage.
Annoyance flares when I catch another whiff of the fucking carrot cake Cecelia plastered to my head yesterday, and I decide another shower is in order. Moving to push away from my desk, I pause when I catch a headline flash across the screen.
LOCAL WOMEN’S SHELTER RECEIVES A STAGGERING DONATION.
Killing the streaming music, I turn up the volume just as the anchor cues the reporter on site.
“I’m standing outside “Chance Two Woman’s Shelter” with director Loretta Dawson, where just days ago, an anonymous donor had a truck delivered. The truck was filled to the brim with supplies and non-perishables that will stock their pantry well through the new year. An unexpected but much-needed donation. Can you tell us a little more about that, Loretta?”
Sean’s old Sunday school teacher steps up, a mix of nerves and excitement in her expression. “When the truck pulled up, we were just blown away. We’ve received some generous donations in the past, but nothing of this magnitude. We were close to shutting our doors even after our annual fund-raiser last month. We’re so thankful to whoever found it inside themselves to gift us the ability to keep the shelter going and potentially change dozens of women’s lives.”
Satisfied, I lower the volume before cracking my neck and pushing away.
Muscles screaming due to pulling another all-nighter, I dread the long hours ahead. Heading toward the bathroom, my personal cell buzzes in my hand. Pissed it’s not my brother—who’s left my last two texts asking for a call unanswered—dread blankets me when BLUE RIDGE MEDICAL fills my screen.
In the bathroom, I study the dark half-moons under my eyes in the mirror as I answer. “Hello?”
“Dominic King?”
“This is he.”
“I’m sorry to call so early. It’s just that your . . .” I hear the flip of a page, “Aunt Delphine. Well . . . she’s early for her chemo appointment and in no state to drive herself home.”
Cupping the back of my head, I inhale a deep breath for patience. “How early?”
With her reply, I scrub my jaw. “Can you keep her there? I can be there in an hour.”
Hearing the woman panic at what’s sure to be the longest fucking hour of her life, I thank her and hang up before starting my shower. Once stripped, I palm the tiles, letting the water rain down my back as I close my eyes. “Jesus Christ.”
It’s the only prayer I can muster.
Somewhat revived after a brisk, cold rinse, I pull on my King’s tee before kicking into my boots. Taking the stairs with what little energy I have, I’m halfway down when Sean glances up from where he stands behind the kitchen island—the news still running on the living room TV. “See it?”
I nod as he grabs a mug from the cabinet, scouring me as he pours me a cup before pushing it over the island in offering.
“Another all-nighter?”
I grunt, taking a hearty sip before the bitching commences.
“Need you whole, man. Can’t keep burning the candle at both ends.”
“I don’t see anyone else around here capable of handling my workload, my way, and someone has to organize the mess that was left for me.”
“According to your impossible standards,” he snarks. “Did we really fuck up so badly holding the fort down while you were in Boston?”
“You feeling needy?” I ask between sips. “Want a compliment?”
“If I’m in need of anything or anyone right now, it’s not you. By the way, thanks for fucking that up for me. She snuck out last night without a word and won’t text me back this morning.”
I lift my cup in salute. “Anytime.”
“So, it was intentional.”
“As intentional as you leaving her here yesterday without playing guard dog.” I shrug. “Maybe you didn’t drill your point into her good enough with your little make up fuck.”
“I believe you heard evidence to the contrary.”
“You’re confusing me with someone who gives a damn. I’ve got more important shit to deal with right now than your fuck life.”
“Say what you will, man, but even with Tyler on our collective asses, you’re the one currently sabotaging progress.”
“She needs to know her place.”
“I understand why this is hard on you, but you can’t keep holding her ignorance against her when she doesn’t know what you’re really about. If you’d give her half a goddamn chance, I think she’ll surprise you.” He palms the counter. “If you’re honest with yourself, she already has.”
“You understand?” I walk around and stare out of the kitchen window, scanning the cloud-covered mountain ridge beyond our backyard. “Yeah, I don’t think you do.”