Seth (Damage Control 3)

Drawing a breath of a sweet scent—vanilla?—I take stock of my situation. Sofa. A slim body tangled up with mine. No pain.

This doesn’t seem so bad. Not bad at all. Actually, this is interesting, could be interesting—only we’re both dressed.

And this is Manon in my arms.

Who’s pretty and sweet and is dating another man.

Dammit.

Even worse, someone’s knocking on the door. Fuck.

I sit up, the blanket slipping off both of us. She’s wrapped up in a black, silky robe. It has fallen open in the front, and underneath she’s wearing a white nightie with black lace.

My mouth is dry, and my dick is growing hard. Not a good thing, all things considered.

Not when the doorbell starts ringing, too.

“Oh God.” She rolls over on her back, blinking those dark green eyes, and jerks. “Shit. Is that…?”

“The doorbell? Yep.” I throw my legs off the sofa and swallow a groan as I bend my knee. The compress fell to the floor sometime last night. I gather it up as I look around for my boots and socks. “Any idea who it might be?”

“No. Wasn’t expecting anyone today.” She’s tying up her robe tightly, covering up her nightie. “Stay here.”

“Don’t want me to hide in your closet?”

“You wouldn’t fit.” She sighs and goes to get the door, but she throws me a tiny smile over her shoulder before she does, and it burns through me like a wisp of fire.

I grab my cell phone from the coffee table and pretend to be busy with it as the door opens. I take out the battery, put it back in. Turn it on.

And it works. It’s working again. Fuck, yeah.

I’m so happy about this little victory that I miss the entrance of Manon’s visitor until she’s standing right in front of me.

“Hey, Seth. Whatcha doing here?”

The. Fuck.

Cassie, smiling at me like the Cheshire Cat from hell. Why is she here?

Oh, right. She’s Manon’s friend. Forgot about that for a moment—what with waking up with Manon in my arms and all. Go figure.

“I was just leaving,” I mutter and try to figure out how to grab my still wet clothes and boots and get the hell out of Dodge.

“What do you want, Cassie?” Manon snaps, and uh-oh, sounds like there’s trouble in paradise.

“To see you?” Cassie’s smile falls, and she turns to face Manon. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Been busy.” Manon’s face is closed off.

“With Sethy here?”

“Oh, get out.” Manon folds her arms over her chest and glares. “I mean it, Cassie.”

“You can’t… Manon, I really need to talk to you.” Now Cassie seems close to tears. Her blond hair is hanging limp on her shoulders, and her eyes are bloodshot.

Oh shit. I shouldn’t be here. I may hate the bitch’s guts for what she tried to do to Jesse and Amber, may want to plant my fist in her face, but I won’t. Wouldn’t do it then, won’t do it now.

Besides, this is between two friends. I have no place being here.