Riot

“Riot, did you find them?”

Turning around, I show my loot. “Yeah.” I eye her thoughtfully. “I might just put them back, though, and climb into bed with you.”

“Riot!” But she’s laughing delightedly, and if I grin any wider, my face will split in two. “Gimme my clothes.”

“What will you give me in return?”

“What do you want?”

“Oh, I can think of a thing or two.” I approach the bed, look down at her. “We could pick up where we left off in the tub.”

Color rises to her cheeks. She bites her lip, and yeah, I think getting under the covers with he

r is the best idea I’ve had all day. My dick agrees with me, hardening, making a nice sizable tent in the towel that’s threatening to fall off my hips—when the doorbell rings.

Fuck.

“Expecting someone?” I give her the clothes and look around for mine.

“Could be Corey.”

“Your friend?” A bitter wave of jealousy hits me as I shove my legs into my pants.

“Yeah.” She sounds uncertain. “I told you about him, right?”

That he’s her best friend. And brought her a bottle of whisky, the one we hit on the other night.

“He probably brought me some food. He’s been worried. He checks on me.”

Oh I see. Worried, huh?

“I’ll go get the door.” I zip up my jeans and don’t bother with anything else. Vaguely I’m aware I’m staking my territory.

My girl.

And if this Corey who acts all concerned about her is good looking, I’ll redecorate his fucking face.

Hell.

***

“So you’re the famous escort Pax won’t talk about.” Corey is giving me a blatant once-over, blond head cocked to the side, one brow raised. “Holy shit, the girl has taste.”

I blink at him. He isn’t what I expected. None of this is. I mean, the guy’s handsome, I guess, almost as tall as me with bright green eyes, but the vibe he’s giving off…

“And you’re Corey.”

“In the flesh.” He beams at me and wanders into the living room, hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Didn’t expect to find you here.”

“Okay, go back for a sec to what you said.” I wave a hand, trying to sort my thoughts. “Famous escort?”

“Ah-huh.”

“But one she won’t talk about.”

“That’s right.”

“So how can I be famous if she doesn’t—”