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So annoying.
“I’m not sleeping on a bed you've had other women on,” I hiss as I grab Poppy’s old laptop and turn it on. Dear Lord, this thing is a dinosaur. I can’t believe she has been working on this, but that’s my Poppy; she holds onto things until the very end, like this laptop, which she has had since we started college.
“Is that seriously the issue? I wash my sheets,” he says, coming closer and leaning on the edge of the table I’ve claimed as my workspace.
“You wash your sheets?” I raise a brow and finally look at him.
Huge mistake.
Square jaw, black hair, tan skin, hard muscle, and just hard all over, cocky, confident, and knows how to make a woman come in under sixty seconds.
In other words, my kryptonite.
“Someone does,” he grins goofily.
“Your poor maid.” I sign and shake my head.
"Please." He replies in a serious tone that shocks me.
“Have we resorted to begging so soon?” I snort, but deep down, my heart thumps harder and with more glee.
I hate it.
I love it.
I loathe it.
“You’re sleeping in my bed. You can start on the couch, but just know as soon as those stunning eyes of yours close, I’m going to carry you into my room.”
“Wake me from my sleep, and you’ll wish you didn’t.”
He flexes his fingers, “I’ve got gentle hands when need be. I won’t wake you,” he smiles as he licks his lips.
My eyes linger on his hands, remembering just how hard and smooth they can be.
Okay, yes, I admit he’s touched parts of me; others only wish they could, but I draw the line at sex. And that last encounter was purely a moment of weakness. He annoyed me so much that I just gave in, hoping a taste of me would quench his obsession.
See why I shouldn't be a parent. If my kid threw a fit, I'd buy the whole store just to make it stop. And yes, I referred to a child as 'it,' case in point.
“I have to fix Poppy’s computer,” I mutter, trying to focus.
“Then why are you still looking at my hands?” I hear the grin in his voice.
I tilt my head, “I’m planning what fingers to cut off while you sleep,” I bite as I roll my eyes.
“Feisty,” he pushes off the table, comes to my side, and leans down. His lips brush against my ear, and a moan escapes. My body is a traitor. “I love a challenge, Siren.”
My fingers freeze over the keyboard. I narrow my eyes at him, “What did you just call me?”
He stands tall and crosses his arms. For a moment, I forget why I’m angry because all I see are biceps, pecs, and abs.
Focus!
“You like it,” he smirks. “I was trying to think of a name that you’d like; then I figured anything I call you, you will hate. So I thought Siren. It’s sexy; they are mythical creatures like you.”
“How am I mythical, you idiot? I’m sitting right here.”
His lips start to smile, “Because I’ve never met a woman like you before. Therefore, you’re mythical.”
