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“Ha. Ha. Think you’re cute, don’t you?”
“So I’ve been told.”
“I’d beg to differ.”
“You saying I’m ugly?
“You’re alright I guess.”
“Just all right?”
“Decent enough.”
“No bag over my head, then?”
“No. I’ll close my eyes, though.”
“No, you won’t. You'll look right at me when I make you come.”
“That’s if you can do the job.”
“You doubting my skills?”
“You’re the one who couldn’t get it up last night.”
“That was the liquor and besides, I got it up enough to knock you up.”
“I don’t know if I can marry you without further testing the goods. Have to make sure the equipment meets my standards.”
“All right. Sign me up for an inspection.”
“I’ll pencil you in.”
“Sonner rather than later. Might need a tuneup.”
“I’ll see what’s available. Gotta check my calendar.”
“Stop playing and kiss me.” I pull her in close and claim her mouth.
Chapter Eighteen
I still don't like the way that woman keeps looking at Smoke and me. I want to know how he knows her, but I have a good guess, and it turns my stomach. She’s raunchy. Skanky even. I can’t imagine him with someone like her.
My man is over to the side having a conversation with Holy and some scary guy named Soulless about marrying us.
“Girl, you are crazy.” Pam shoves through the crowd, waiting for the mud wrestling contest to get underway. If Pam is calling me crazy, I must be, because she’s one of the biggest nuts I know. “Knew you wouldn’t let me down.”
I roll my eyes but laugh. Her and her baby bet is as ridiculous as it sounds. “All right. I’ll bite. Who was the big winner?”
“Your boy. The prospect.”
My brows knit together. “Jimmy?”
“I video called the little shit and asked if he cheated with some insider knowledge because of how close his little girlfriend and you are, but he swears he figured since his woman is pregnant that you would be too. Since you’ve always done everything together. You should have seen his face when I asked if you two lost your v-cards the same day.” She smirks.
I scrunch my nose in distaste. “Sabrina found out last week, I guess.”
Pam eyes me up and down, reading me as easily as a billboard. “What’s up with that look?”
