Happily Enemy After (Hawthorne Brothers 2)

I cross my arms over my chest and grin. “Is that the best you can do?”

“You’re a man-whore,” she tells me next.

Ah. More insulting.

“And you’re a cocktease,” I tell her. “And a drama queen.”

She sneers. “You’re a man-child.”

“Surely I can’t be a child and a whore at the same time.”

“You’re everything vile.”

“Now that’s just vague.”

“You tell a woman you want to have sex with her so she shaves and goes to your apartment in freshly bought lingerie only to have another woman who looks like a cross between a Victoria’s Secret model and Aquaman’s wife open the door and slam it in her face.”

That’s specific. Is that what happened? Violet came to my apartment and saw another woman there? I think I know exactly who.

Hold on. Violet came to my apartment. That means…

“What are you grinning for?” she asks me. “It’s creepy.”

I keep doing it anyway. “Now I know what you’re talking about.”

She gives me a puzzled look. “What?”

She thought she knew what was going on, but she doesn’t. I do. The tables have turned.

“I finally understand everything,” I tell her. “You don’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“The woman you saw at my apartment, the woman you thought I was sleeping with—her name is Roxanne Garcia.”

“I don’t care who she is.”

“She’s my house manager,” I inform her anyway because she has to know. “That means she hires the people who clean and maintain my apartment and makes sure they do their jobs. She makes sure my laundry’s done, the linens are changed, the pantry is stocked…”

“I know what a house manager is,” Violet cuts me off.

And judging from the blush on her cheeks, she’s aware that she misunderstood the whole situation. Yup. She’s been spending the whole day getting mad at me for no reason. I think she owes me an apology.

I don’t hear one. Instead, she sinks into her chair, puts her elbows on the table and mumbles, “House manager.”

“Yes. House manager.”

I rest my arm on the back of the empty chair next to the one she’s sitting on as I move closer to her.

“She’s had the job for about two years now. The one before her was an older woman. Jane. I fired her when I caught her sleeping with the plumber in my bed.”

Violet doesn’t seem to be listening. She takes a few strands of her hair and presses them between her nose and her lips as she stares blankly at the table. Then she lets them go as she turns her head to meet my gaze.

“House manager?”

“Yes. I swear I’ve never slept with her.” I look into her blue eyes as I lean on the edge of the table. “And I haven’t slept with anyone since the last time you showed up in front of my apartment.”

Something flickers in her eyes. Surprise? Joy?

That disappears as they narrow. “And you think I’d believe you?”

“You should,” I tell her. “Because I’m telling you the truth.”

“So what? I’m just supposed to take off my clothes and have sex with you now?” she asks.

“Sounds good.”

Violet snorts. “Sorry but I don’t sleep with men who have house managers.”

Oh. She’s back to insulting me? Yet I can tell that unlike earlier, there isn’t any venom in her words this time.

I hold her gaze as I lean forward. “Stuck-up.”

“Man-child.”

“Drama queen.”

“Pompous ass.”

I lower my face so that it’s almost level with hers. “You shaved.”

She pauses a moment before answering. “I shaved.”

Which means she wants to have sex with me. And so do I. Right now.

I press my palm against Violet’s cheek and place my lips on hers. I apply just a slight amount of pressure at first, just enough for me to feel our lips touching. Then I push harder, smearing her lipstick. I part my lips and let just the tip of my tongue out to taste it as it runs across her upper lip. Then I take her lower lip and suck on it gently.

Violet’s hand goes over mine. For a moment, I stop, afraid that she might pull my hand away, slap me and walk off. Instead, she strokes my hand as her lips press firmly against mine. My heart leaps. My cock throbs.

I continue to kiss her, and more passionately. Now that I know Violet wants this, I’m not holding back. Over and over, our lips collide in perfect synchronization. My hand slides to her jaw, hers to my shoulder.

She clutches my shoulder as she gets out of her chair to stand in front of me. I straighten up, grip her hip and plant a long kiss on her lips. When she parts them, I push my tongue inside her mouth. She trembles. Her arm goes around me.

She caresses my back as my tongue caresses hers. My hand travels up and down the side of her dress. When my fingers brush against the curve of her breast, she moans. The sound sends ripples of heat beneath my skin all the way to my crotch.