Fight Dirty (Black Rose Kisses 1)

He’s not wrong, and a blonde woman with huge tits wearing a bathrobe comes to the door.

“It’s four in the afternoon.” I frown, making a face. “Why is she in a bathrobe?”

“It’s called depression, Mercy,” Rory shoots back. “And I’d be depressed too if I was dating someone that bad at driving.”

“You are that bad at driving,” Sloan mutters from my other side. Rory misses it, but I smother a laugh.

It keeps going like that, the three of them giving each other shit and yelling at the screen as the movie goes on, and eventually I yawn and settle in to watch them watch the movie, letting my own comments drop out.

Before I know it, my eyes are closing, and I put my empty beer bottle on the table, deciding not to fight it.

I have no idea how much time passes, but when I open my eyes again, the screen is paused on the scrolling credits, and I blink blearily.

My head is pillowed on a strong chest, the soft material of a well-worn t-shirt under the skin of my cheek. I yawn and stretch a bit, trying to get my bearings while rubbing at my eyes with one hand. When it finally makes it through my tired brain that I’ve been sleeping on one of them, I stiffen and sit up quickly, cheeks immediately going pink in embarrassment.

It’s Sloan, because of course it’s Sloan.

If it was Rory, there would be some flirtatious teasing and that would be the end of it, but Sloan looks stiff and tense, and when I glance at his face, it’s unreadable.

For once, he doesn’t look like he’s a second away from punching a hole in a wall, but it’s clear he’s acting like nothing happened, like he doesn’t give a shit.

His eyes meet mine for all of a second, and then he’s back to staring at the TV again. He’s playing it cool, and he doesn’t say anything, but the fact remains that he let me curl up like that. He didn’t move me off of him while I was sleeping. Given how easily he’s been pushing me around and grabbing me when he wants to, if he didn’t want me there, he could have just pushed me off with no issue.

Instead of bringing any of that up, I yawn and stretch and get to my feet, hurrying up the stairs so I can curl up in my own bed and stop thinking about how broad and warm Sloan’s chest is.

I change into a comfy tank top and get under the covers, and it’s not hard to recapture that feeling of comfort and warmth that lulls me back to sleep easily enough. Just as I’m drifting off, I realize I can still smell him. That sharp, woodsy scent settles around me, clinging to me and now my sheets. I catch myself inhaling it deeply for a second, and then I frown.

Goddammit. Why is that smell so fucking addictive?

Why is he?

20

A few more days pass, and it’s almost weird how routine things have become. It was once so strange to be here, in their house, being trailed around by them whenever I wanted to do anything, but now it’s just mundane. It’s become a part of my life, and I can’t tell if I should be worried about that or not.

On Friday, I step out of my last class of the day with a relieved sigh. It’s been a long week, and I’m tired and ready for the weekend, even if all I manage to accomplish is doing some laundry and lying around. Maybe I’ll invite Scarlett over and we can have a movie night of our own, watching the rom-coms that are a guilty pleasure for me, and some of Scarlett’s favorites, with a few action films thrown in for good measure.

I’ve also been poking around the house a little more, careful not to draw attention to myself. It’s not like the guys are leaving important Black Rose memos all over the place, but I’m sure there’s gotta be some shit worth getting into somewhere in the massive house. I just need to find it.

When I leave the building where my class is held, Levi’s in his usual spot against the wall, arms folded, but he pushes off and grins at me when I walk over to him. I wait to see if he’s going to explain what he’s smiling about, but he doesn’t say anything.

I roll my eyes. “What are you so excited about? If being cooped up on my campus day in and day out bothers you so much that you’re literally giddy with joy at the end of the day, you could always just stop coming with me.”

He shakes his head and then rolls his eyes in turn. “That’s not it.”

“Then what?”

“It’s a surprise,” he says, his grin turning teasing. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

There was definitely a time when hearing that Levi or either of the other two had a surprise for me would make me immediately worried about what it was. But now I just feel curious, wondering what they’re all up to—because I don’t believe for a second that this is all Levi’s doing.

We walk back to the car and head home, and Levi just keeps smiling until I head upstairs to my room.

There, draped across the bed, is probably the sexiest, most elegant dress I’ve ever seen outside of like a magazine or the internet. It’s fiery red and long, probably almost floor length on me. The halter style neckline plunges low, designed to show off a lot of cleavage in the front and pretty much all of the back from what I can tell when I hold it up. It’s definitely not meant to be worn with a bra.

The material is silky and smooth in my hands when I touch it, except for a line of delicate beading along the waist that shimmers in the light.

It’s beautiful.