by Eve Langlais
“Shut up.”
“Not possible. I never stop talking.”
“I’ve noticed.” He strode right into my building and eschewed the elevator for the stairs.
Show off.
He stopped at the sixth floor and strode down the hall, stopping exactly in front of my door.
“How come you know where I live?” I asked as he held me securely with one arm, his knee propped under my ass as he jangled my keys to open the door.
“I know a lot of things about you, kitten.”
He made it sound so ominous.
The door opened, and he went inside, then kicked it shut before he set me down.
I leaned against the wall, my purse feeling heavy, way too weighty. Peeking out of it was that wretched bag of cookies. Like I’d eat any more of those.
I tossed them on the table by the entrance. I’d burn the fuckers later. Or put them out on my window ledge for those pigeons that liked to roost there and poop.
People might not know, but pigeon poop stank, which meant I kept my windows closed a lot and often thought about buying a BB gun.
Dale kept a hand on my elbow as I tottered to my bathroom. With the vile taste of barf coating my mouth, I was in dire need of a toothbrush.
First, I threw up again. Something about seeing my white porcelain toilet sent me to my knees, heaving up my guts.
But I felt immensely better after, especially once I scrubbed, spat, scrubbed again, gargled, and even flossed until my mouth tasted minty fresh.
Then I went straight to bed. Fuck Dale. My body screamed for sleep.
I passed out almost immediately and suffered through some truly messed-up dreams, one involving a giant cookie with teeth and red eyes chasing me.
When I woke, a gritty-eyed peek at my clock showed three hours had passed. I staggered into the bathroom, happy that my stomach didn’t appear to want to vacate my body anymore. I brushed my teeth and splashed my face, feeling eminently more human. I slipped out of my pretty blue dress for something more comfortable and bra-less. A T-shirt with a piñata that said I’d hit that and my track pants that said Sweet on the ass.
I exited my bathroom to find Dale still in my apartment.
Great.
With the luck I’d had today, he was probably waiting to start round two of his lecturing. Whatever. Didn’t mean I’d listen to it.
I made a beeline for my couch and flopped on it face-first.
“Are you all right? I didn’t hear you throwing up again.”
He’d heard me puking before? Lovely. Nothing screamed “aren’t I sexy?” like blowing chunks. Then again, I’d probably dropped out of any sexy category when I barfed on him at the Peabodys’.
“I’m fine.” I waved a hand. “You can go now.” I couldn’t believe he’d stayed while I slept.
“I don’t think so. You seemed pretty sick.”
“So sick you didn’t call an ambulance?”
“I would have had you shown signs of distress.”
“Well, as you can see, no distress. So, you can go now.” Leave so I could bang my head on a wall for permanently ruining any chance with Dale.
“I’ll go but only if you promise to stop investigating the Peabodys.”
“No.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“You’re not the boss of me.” Chloe was. And even then, I didn’t know if I’d listen. Even with my guts feeling as if someone had taken a knife to them, I couldn’t quell my curiosity.
Why would Mrs. Peabody try and poison me? Or had her plan merely been to incapacitate me? Had Dale not come along, would I have awoken in her house, tethered to a bed?
Naked…
Who knew what that woman wanted from me.
“Don’t make me tie you up again.”
At the threat, I turned my head sideways and managed a lopsided smirk. “Have you ever heard that Rihanna song, the one about bondage being exciting?” I propped up my ass on the couch and purred. “Go ahead and spank me.”
I expected more grouchy warnings, maybe even a good smack—after all, we had precedence.
Instead, he pulled me off that couch and dragged me to my feet. His hands gripped my wrists tightly. So firmly.
He held me against him and glared down at me.
I smiled.
A low rumble vibrated from him. “You have got to be the most—”
“Sexy and vibrant woman you’ve ever met.” I helped him finish his sentence. I was helpful like that.
“I was going to say irritating, stubborn, and lacking in common sense sexy woman I’ve ever met.”
“You think I’m sexy?” Focusing on the one word meant my grin widened.
“That’s the part you chose to listen to?”
I shrugged. “You say the other things like they’re an insult, but my meemaw taught me to embrace my faults. They are part of what makes me, me.”
“You are driving me nuts.”
“Then leave. Out of sight, out of mind.”
“Leaving won’t mean out of mind, though. You think I haven’t tried to forget you?”
Hold on a second. What? “You’ve been thinking of me?”
Dale reeled me in closer, and his head lowered so that our noses almost touched. “Every fucking day. Even when I sleep, I see you. You’re like some weird addiction I can’t shake.”
“Why, Dale, that was almost romantic.”
“I don’t want to be romantic. I want you.”
Swoon. The words any girl wanted to hear. But I just had to put my foot in it.
“I feel like I should probably mention that I kissed Mike today.”
“What?” He might have yelled the word.
“It happened after the Peabody incident. We ended up in his office, my mouth ended up on his, and next thing you know, he might have touched my va-jay-jay.”
“Touched your what?”
I arched a brow. “You know, my girly bits.” I hastened to add, “I don’t know if it will lead to anything, or even if it means anything. I’m still not entirely sure Mike even likes me, but given he’s like your best bud, I feel like I should tell you.”
His expression turned stormy. “Did you like it?”
No point in lying at this point. I nodded my head and added, “It was nice.” Nice in an explosive, my-body-would-have-enjoyed-seconds kind of way.
“Fuck nice. How does this feel?”
Dale then proceeded to kiss me.
He. Kissed. Me.
And what a kiss. He claimed my mouth. Dominated every inch, cell, and atom of it. Branded me with his embrace. Ignited my passion.
Was it any wonder we ended up on the couch? His heavy body atop mine, my legs parted to cradle him. His hips moved, grinding against me, pushing against my crotch in a way that had me panting and clawing at his bare back.
It was wonderful. And exciting. I wanted more.
When his hand reached under my shirt to cradle my breast, I moaned and arched into his grip. When he pulled back enough to nip at the tip through the fabric covering it, I gasped.
My legs wrapped around his waist, hugging him close as he sucked and nipped at my sensitive nipples. Playing with them. Exciting me so much that a mini orgasm rocked me.
And he knew it.
“That’s it, kitten. Wait until I sink my cock into you. I can’t wait to feel you clenching it. I want to make you come all over me.”
“Yes. Yes. Do it.” The dirty talk had me panting and groaning and…meowing?
Dale pulled away, and through heavy eyelids, I got a glimpse of his face, softer than I’d seen it before and yet, at the same time, fierce with passion.
And creased with annoyance.
“Fucking cockblocker.” Pulling away from me, Dale yanked a phone from his back pocket and answered it with a barked—human, not wolf—“What now?”
His face lost the sensual connection we’d shared, becoming stonier and harder with each word he heard.
“Yeah. Yeah. I’m coming.” And no
t in a creamy way, I’d wager. “Bye.” He shoved the phone away and stared at me.
“I get the impression we’re not going to keep making out.” Bummer. Two men and two orgasms in one day and yet not a single dick to truly put out the fire in my vagina.
For a moment, he looked pained as he ran his hand through his hair. “Sorry, kitten. I can’t stay. That was Mike on the phone.” His lips twisted. “I’m needed elsewhere.”
Yeah, in my pants, right now. But the mention of Mike kind of threw a bucket of icy water on my ardor. What was I thinking, making out with Mike’s best friend? What was Dale thinking, making a pass in the first place? “You should go.”
Rising from the couch, he grimaced down at his bare torso. “I don’t suppose you have a shirt I could borrow.”
I did. Not one he liked, but he put it on anyway.
At the door, he paused, and I thought for a moment he’d say fuck it and take me against the wall. Instead, he said, “Lock the door once I leave. And whatever you do, stay away from the Peabodys.”
I crossed my fingers behind my back. “I’ll be good.” When Hell freezes over.
“Speaking of good…” He stepped into the hall before turning around and giving me a panty-dropping smile. “How would you rate our make-out session?”
I couldn’t help myself. I was bad. So bad. Which was why I said, “It was nice,” before slamming the door shut.
Dale Interlude
Nice?
She thought that kiss was nice?
Nice was for thoughtful gestures, like a card or flowers on special occasions. Nice was holding open the door for someone going into a building.
Nice shouldn’t describe the electric kiss they’d shared.
Argh.
Dale stomped down the stairs and emerged on the sidewalk, his gaze immediately drawn by the truck belonging to Brenda.
Talk about a surprise. When he’d arrived at the Peabodys’ place—dropped off by Sebastian on his way to work because of a phone call from Pete telling him to get his ass over there—he’d done a double take.
Who expected a kitten-sized woman to drive a monster truck?
Big all over, even the wheels, and painted a bright electric blue emblazoned with flames along the side, her Dodge diesel-guzzling truck with twenty-two-inch chrome wheels didn’t just rumble when you started its three-hundred-and-fifty-nine-cubic-inch engine. It fucking growled.
Growled loud enough to give any man worth his salt a boner. It was a man’s truck.
Cute little blondes were supposed to drive Smart cars or practical hybrids, and yet…the fucking thing suited her.
A gray sedan, four-door and practical, which, of course, belonged to Mike, was parked behind the truck.
His buddy got out and whistled. “Damn. That’s a fine set of wheels.”
“Drives like a dream, too.”
“How would you know?” Mike asked, turning to face him.
“Because it belongs to Brenda.” Just like Brenda should belong to him.
Not Mike.
Mike, who’d kissed her first, even though he didn’t like her.
Mike, who’d touched her first, trying to steal her from Dale.
Crack. Dale’s fist hit his friend in the face before he even knew he’d thrown the punch.
Reeling back, Mike rubbed his jaw. His glare almost burnt Dale to a crisp. “What the fuck was that for?”
“Making out with Brenda. I thought we all agreed”—not exactly willingly—“that the girl was off-limits.”
“We didn’t agree. Pete said Brenda was off-limits on account he’s shagging the best friend.”
“And you thought what? Fuck Pete? Fuck our promise?” Dale yelled.
“Don’t shout at me. The kiss wasn’t my fault. She was the one who threw herself on me.”
“And did you shove her off?” Dale arched a brow.
A ruddy color filled Mike’s cheeks. “Not exactly.”
“Not only did you not shove her off, you also fingered her.”
“How did you…” Mike’s words trailed off as he found his balls and scowled. “It’s none of your fucking business what we did.”
“I’m making it my fucking business.”
“How did you find out?”
“She told me.”
Mike bristled. “Which begs the question, what the fuck were you doing with her?”
“Pete asked me for a favor. Seems Brenda decided to go off and do something dangerous on her own. I had to rescue her.”
“That woman is a menace to society.”
“That woman needs a keeper,” Dale said with a snort. A keeper like me. “I found her outside the Peabodys’ place.”
“Peabodys’?” Mike’s voice pitched. “Is she fucking stupid? After what happened with the husband this morning?”
“The woman has no sense of self-preservation.” Dale shrugged. “Even though she was poisoned by Peabody’s wife, she won’t back off.”
“How do you know she was poisoned?”
“She puked on me.”
At that, Mike smirked. “I guess that explains the T-shirt.”
Dale didn’t have to look down to know what it said. Save a Lollipop. Eat a Dick. A sentiment he couldn’t disagree with. At least he’d managed to wash and dry his pants while she napped. As to the underwear he might have handled while doing laundry…he’d succeeded in not sniffing it.
“Let’s focus less on my clothing and more on the fact that Peabody’s wife felt a need to poison Brenda.”
“The same wife nobody’s talked to since the day after the fire?” Mike arched a brow.
“The same.”
“I thought the house was empty.”
Dale shrugged. “So did I.” Random knocks and patrols hadn’t yielded any signs of life.
“If she’s been home this entire time, then why would she answer for Brenda and not us?”
“Fuck if I know, but given the wife tried to poison her and what happened with Peabody, I’m thinking maybe I should keep an eye on her.”
At that suggestion, Mike stiffened. “Maybe I should be the one to do that.”
“Because she made out with you?”
A smug look crossed Mike’s face. “Not my fault she found me irresistible.”
“So compelling she called your make-out session ‘nice.’”
“Nice?” Mike frowned. “Maybe you misunderstood.”
“Nope.” Dale hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans and rocked back on his heels. “She most definitely said your moment together was nice.”
A familiar scowl took the grin’s place. “I’ll show her nice. What’s her apartment number?”
“None of your business. I said I’d handle her.”
“Why would…” Mike’s eyes widened. “Holy shit, you still have a thing for her.”
“So what if I do?”
“The what part is the fact that you just gave me shit for not staying away and keeping my hands to myself.”
“That was before. Things have changed.”
“Damned right they have. She kissed me.” Mike jabbed his chest. “Which means she chose me, so I should get to guard her.”
“Don’t feel so special, bro. She kissed me, too.” A kiss he’d started, but she certainly didn’t stop it.
“Was this kiss before or after you found out about the one we shared?”
“After.”
“Why, you dirty bastard, you couldn’t stand that she chose me.”
No, he couldn’t. The jealousy was strong in Dale. And for the first time in his life, he’d not followed the bro code, the one that said, “don’t touch.”
Because he couldn’t resist.
Couldn’t resist her.
“She’s mine,” Mike snarled.
“Are you sure about that?” Dale retorted.
“I’ll show you sure.”
Mike lost his cool and dove on Dale. The pair of them exchanging punches, hard smacks as they fought to deal with the first
true test of their friendship.
A relationship strained by a woman.
But this woman was special.
So special Dale didn’t want to lose, and neither did Mike, apparently, so they brawled in the street until a certain familiar voice hollered from a window. “Scratch the paint on my truck, and I will rip off your balls and feed them to the lions at the zoo.”
The window slammed shut, hiding Brenda from sight, but it did its job. The fizzle had left the fight.
Dale stared at a glowering Mike. “Truce?”
Mike eyed the hand Dale held out. “I’m not giving up.”
“Neither am I. But I also don’t want to fight you.”
A sigh heaved out of Mike. “Me either. But where do we go from here?”
Where indeed.
I want her. Mike wants her.
“I guess we’re both going to chase her until she chooses one.” Dale smiled. “May the best wolf”—me!—“win.”
9
Whatever crap Mrs. Peabody put in her coffee and cookies had hit me hard. I may have stopped puking—thank goodness because that would have put a damper on my interrupted make-out session with Dale—but I still felt weak.
I also felt guilty. It didn’t take a genius to realize that Mike and Dale fought over me in the street. Which meant, along with the guilt, I experienced a good dose of elation.
Hello, two guys fighting over a girl? Super sexy. But sad, too. I guess it meant they weren’t into sharing, which would have really been the ideal scenario.
Who would have thought three close buds, in this day and age where reverse harems were the norm, would be so old school?
Could I be content settling for one man? A funny question given, just a day ago, I had no man in my life. Now, I appeared to have two vying for my affections. Could they come to an agreement and share?
It had happened to Chloe. When Pete and Anthony first got involved with her, they hated each other. Out of love for Chloe, they’d learned to get along, and now they seemed to share her without a problem.
However, that didn’t mean Mike and Dale would do the same.
If that were the case, if I could have only one, how would I choose?
With my mind muddled, I chose to not make a decision. Fatigued by my ordeal and dilemma, I went back to bed.
And dreamed. Oh boy, did I dream.
Dreamed I sprinted like a crazy woman, which totally wasn’t my thing. Short legs were made for walking, cute skirts, and footstools to reach high places. Yet, here I was, panting, my lungs burning with physical exertion because I ran as if my life depended on it.