“Hey, I’m sure he’s fine. April works long shifts,” I coax, wrapping my arms around her shoulders, steering her back to bed. “You can’t drive drunk. I’m an officer of the law, remember?”
“You know, you’re kind of cute when you’re being all bossy.”
“You should see me in my uniform,” I flirt, knowing doing so won’t lead anywhere. We tried that once.
She buries her face in the crook of my neck, inhaling my aftershave. Her lips brush against my ear, and I should remind myself that this is Fifi and she’s intoxicated.
“You smell good too,” she murmurs.
“So, I hear.”
“You gonna cuff me and read me my rights.” She tugs on my belt loop, reaching for the cuffs I forgot I have on me.
“Go to bed, Fi, you’re drunk.” This was why she doesn’t drink. When Fiona gets drunk, she gets all touchy and well, horny.
“Only if you come with me,” she teases.
“Not tonight, lightweight.”
Getting her back in the bed, I tell her she needs to sleep it off.
Fiona gazes at me with a lazy smile and bloodshot eyes. “Goodnight, Roomie.”
What did I just get myself into? I groan, wiping the back of my neck as she pulls her dress over her head, getting it stuck.
“Easy, killer,” I say, avoiding the swell of her breasts as they threaten to fall out of their lace cups.
Pulling her dress back down, I kiss her forehead as she begins to snore again.
Fiona
What is that pounding? I blink. My eyes don’t want to focus and my throat feels as if I’ve swallowed sand.
Thump.
Bang.
Thump.
There is that damn pounding again.
Wiping the crust from my eyes, I throw the covers back. Glancing around the room, I start to freak out until it dawns on me I am at Devlyn’s.
My legs are stiff as I leave the warmth of his bed. I follow the noise to the kitchen. Dev is wearing a wife beater and navy boxers. He’s cooking breakfast and also talking to a cat.
“New friend,” I interrupt. “I thought I was your favorite pussy,” I tease him and make a purring sound. “Should I be jealous?”
He smiles flipping the egg in the pan.
“Nah, me and Skittles go way back. She eats breakfast with me every morning. Lives upstairs. Belongs to Mecca. I think you’ve met her before.”
Some of the fog clears from my head and I remember her. “The marathon runner.” She’s pretty and single. “She’s pretty. Is she single?” I raise my brow at him and he frowns.
“Don’t start with me. Skittles is the only pussy I have time for right now.” He avoids my judgmental glare, sliding a mug across the counter with two aspirin.
“You make time for me…I’m just saying,” I tease him.
“You can just say all you want to. I gotta go. You coming to the parade?”