Page 16 of Buckle Up, Buttercup

He snickers and grins, moving his tail from beneath the hem of my shirt and wrapping it around his thigh like most gargoyles do. I try not to stare at just how much of that thigh is exposed due to the shortness of his Punishers shorts. They can’t even be called shorts; they should just be called sho— because they can’t have more than a two-inch inseam.

“Get your junk outta my face,” I bark, slumping against the sofa as he crosses his arms and beams at me. “When are they gonna get you some shorts that fit?”

He snorts out a laugh and spreads his huge wings wide, flaring them so big, they blot out the light coming in from the windows and the light filtering from the chandeliers above him. “Shorts that fit? That ain’t in the playbook, Bluebell. I think half the tickets we sell are so that monstresses such as yourself can come stare at our junk while we’re running around.”

“Facts,” I grumble. “I’m partial to the team uniform, if I’m honest.”

He drops to his heels and rests his elbows on his knees, cocking his head playfully to the side. “You come to the game to stare at my junk, Bluebell?”

I lean forward until my face is a half inch from his, dropping my gaze to his mouth. Nipping my lip, I hum in the back of my throat. “Would you like me to, Hadrian?”

He rolls his eyes and pushes me to the back of the sofa. “You eat yet? They gave you the gift card, right?”

I pop up and follow him into the kitchen, where he deposits his bag and starts emptying protein shake bottles out of it.

“Didn’t eat yet. I fell asleep on that bomb-ass sofa instead.”

He raises a single dark brow in an accusatory fashion. “Yeah, with your soda in your hand. It was half dumped over when I arrived.”

I gulp. “Err, did you pick it up?”

“I did.” He smiles as he tosses the protein bottles in the sink. “Let’s get food.”

I look around. “Don’t you have post-game team shit to do?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not much of a partier. Told them I had plans.”

“Argh.” I slump onto a barstool. “Don’t cancel plans to hang with me. I’m just gonna pass out and be boring and probably work.”

He rounds the island and joins me, slapping a menu down on the bartop. “And yet that sounds fucking perfect to me because, again, I’m not a party animal. Let’s order room service, watch weird movies, and chill on the sofa. Or I’ll take you out if you wanna go out.”

I scrunch my nose up, and he laughs, shoving the room service menu closer to me.

“In, it is. Pick a bunch of shit from there. I’m gonna shower, then I’ll order, and you can pick a movie.

“Done.” I pull the menu close as he rises and heads to the left where the bedroom is situated. I definitely don’t watch him go to see if he happens to rip that shirt off on his way to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, he shows back up in gray sweatpants—my fucking archnemesis, WHY DO GUYS DO THAT?—and a matching gray hoodie that snaps along his shoulders and sides to accommodate his enormous wings. The gray looks good against the dark purple of his skin and all that black hair. It’s pulled halfway up into a top knot that shouldn’t make my mouth water.

I blame the sweatpants. It’s stupid for him to wear them. I’m just a simple woman, and I can only be expected to behave so much.

Scratch that. I’m just a horny woman who hasn’t been on a date in about, oh, eighteen months, and I really cannot use the vibrator I brought while I’m in this suite with my brother’s best friend. Not when gargoyles have such impeccably strong senses. He’d hear it and smell it, and gods, that would be fucking awkward.

Although, I’m pretty sure I hauled a box of his sex toys when I helped him move. He got so awkward about that small one. LOL.

Hadrian flops on the sofa and grabs the room phone. “Give me your food list ‘cause we both know you wrote it down.”

Laughing, I slide off the bar and hand him the sticky note where I wrote out the food I want to try. “I picked a lot,” I admit. “I’ll pay.”

He snorts. “Imagine if I told Jasper I let you pay for food. He’d rip my head off.”

“I dunno, he’s not that chivalrous,” I mutter. If he was, he wouldn’t let me do so much of the shit he should be doing for himself.

Hadrian takes my list and calls down to the attendant, who’s apparently on call specifically for his needs. His tone is casual and easy with her, and despite the angel on my shoulder who usually overrules the devil, jealousy rises. The way he talks to her sounds like he knows her. And that leads me to thinking about him out partying with his teammates. And wondering what he’d be doing tonight if he wasn’t stuck in with me.

I’m ready to flip tables again thinking about some girl riding his face.

Get it together, Blue, I scold myself.