He drops the pen again, clenching both fists at his sides. “Why? Why are we friends?”
“Because I’m fucking awesome,” I tout and just like that the tension melts.
“Keep telling yourself that.”
“Every morning in the mirror.” I take a gulp of my water. “Ready to meet her?”
“As ready as I’m gonna be.” He stands. “Please Lord, don’t let this blow up in our faces,” he mutters, making the motion of a cross in front of his chest before following me up the stairs.
I knock on her door lightly, but she doesn’t reply. “Stacia?” I call her name, knocking again.
“Hmm?” she calls back, and I take it as my cue to enter.
I stop dead in my tracks when I see her on the bed, tangled up in my Mimi Jean’s quilt. Her pants are nowhere to be seen and her shirt has scrunched up beneath her bust. She’s showing off more skin than she’s covering. My mouth feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton balls as I take her in—she looks like a fucking goddess, laid out on display. My hands ache to touch her, but I don’t, because that’d be pervy as hell. Everyone knows consent is sexy.
Colton clears his throat, simultaneously breaking my trance and waking her. Stacia’s eyes fly open. “Oh my God!” she shrieks, covering herself as quickly as possible. “What in the hell?”
“Shit!” Colton covers his eyes. “Sorry!”
I, however, am not such a gentleman and keep my blues locked firmly on her, my brow lifted in challenge. “I asked Colton over to draft up a rental agreement. So, throw some pants on—or don’t—and let’s get to it.”
Stacia huffs. “Aren’t you gonna give me some privacy?”
I widen my stance and cross my arms over my chest. “Didn’t plan on it. I walk around in my boxers all the time; I don’t plan on changing that just because you’re living here. I’m not doing the whole eggshells thing. Take me as I am.”
She stares at me for a beat before laughing. “Sure, okay.” She pushes the quilt all the way off and stands, her long, lean legs on full display. “Let me just get dressed.” She turns her back to me, and my eyes instantly fall to her ass—her very bare, smooth, bounce a quarter off of it, tight ass. I bow my head in thanks to the G-string gods above.
I groan audibly when she bends to step into her sweats. There’s nothing but thin silk covering the promised land between her thighs. “Fuck.”
“This is cool, right?” the she-devil murmurs as she stands and shimmies her pants up. “No eggshells, right?”
I gulp. “Riiiight.”
Stacia grins and winks. “Great. Let’s go talk.” She sashays right past both me and Colton, out the door. “C’mon, boys.”
The three of us set off down the stairs back toward the kitchen; Colton shoots me incredulous looks and glares every step of the way.
In the kitchen, Stacia hops up onto the island, and I can’t help but notice it leaves her at the perfect height for someone—me—to step between her legs and show her a good time. “You got any coffee?” she asks, swinging her feet.
“Um, yeah.” I nod my head toward my Nespresso machine.
“Sweet!” She hops down and struts over, making herself right at home as she fills the water reservoir and browses my different capsule options. I keep a keen eye on her, fascinated with how easily she moves about my kitchen—like she belongs here. And don’t even get me started on the deep satisfaction that strums through my chest when she selects my favorite—Arpeggio. “Y’all want any?” she asks, pressing the brew button.
Colton and I both say yes, and without batting a lash, she whips up two more. “Y’all want cream or sugar? Not that I know where you keep anything.”
I grab the creamer from the fridge and the sugar bowl from its place on the counter. “Here ya go.” The three of us doctor our coffees to taste before gathering around the island.
“So, what’s the deal?” she asks.
Colton appraises her with a cold stare. “The deal is, West has asked that in lieu of you paying rent, for you to cover the internet bill, a portion of the utilities, and half of the groceries.”
I can see it, so clearly, her desire to argue. Her pride is begging her to reject my offer, but luckily, her sensibility wins out. “Great,” she bites out.
“There are some rules,” Colton adds, before relaying them all to her. “Are these terms acceptable?”
Stacia hesitates, only for a second, though. “They’re perfect.”
“That just leaves one last thing. How long will you be staying?”
Stacia rears back, and I kind of want to smack him. “I, um. Well.” Her eyes glisten, and my gut churns. “Just um—three months should be enough time to be able to afford somewhere on my own. Is that okay?”