Page 12 of Unspoken Vows

“It’s not?”

“No. I need sheets and towels. Just moved in and don’t have that shit.”

“Why couldn’t you pick it up without me?”

“You’ll be getting fucked on the sheets and sleeping on them. Figured you should pick them out.”

My head jerks when I hear a gasp beside me. There’s a woman standing beside me, her mouth open, and staring at Ghost in awe. The way she looks at him is annoying me. “Shut your mouth before you swallow a fly,” I gripe.

Ghost laughs and slaps me on the ass. I shoot him a look that silently threatens to kill him. He ignores it. “No need to get jealous. I can only handle one woman at a time,” he whispers in my ear. I do my best to ignore the shiver that runs through me.

“You’re mostly a jerk,” I huff.

“Yep.”

“I’m warning you. I’m going to pick silk sheets and they won’t be cheap.”

“Have at it, Tiger. Don’t forget towels.”

“Do you have a favorite color?” I ask.

“Black.”

“Figures.” As we make it to the sheets, I grab some black silk sheets and another pair of red ones.

“Red?”

“It’s my color.” I expect him to bitch. Instead, he looks at me and it feels as if his eyes penetrate the deepest parts of me. Then, he reaches over and gets two more sets in the red. “Um…”

“Good sex gets messy, Lennox.”

My heart speeds up when he uses my name. God. This man is trouble. I’m not sure I’m strong enough to resist him. I need to talk to Ivan soon. Ghost is the kind of man who could make me back away from my vow to Tommy. I can’t allow that. Getting revenge for Tommy’s death is the only reason I’m still alive.

“I haven’t said I’m going to have sex with you again,” I remind him, as I maneuver my way over to the towels and things.

“You will,” he responds. I swear, I’m starting to really get addicted to his gruff voice. I’m almost positive that I could get addicted to all of him really quickly.

“Cocky is not a good look on you,” I mumble. “Do you have a washer and dryer in this new apartment?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, so you’re a bachelor. You probably reuse towels before you wash them—which, by the way, is a disgusting habit.”

“Noted,” he says, but I’m pretty sure he’s fighting laughter.

“I’m thinking you can get by with a set of four.”

“A set?” he asks, clearly confused. He’s staring at me like I’m a creature from another planet. Right now, I’m truly beginning to feel like that.

“Yeah, four bath towels, four regular towels, four hand towels, and four wash cloths. That’s a set.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“You only say that because you’re a man. I’m also not buying black towels, so choose a different color.”

“Red. It’s your color,” he answers immediately. I should argue and demand he choose another color. Instead, I quietly add the towels, feeling happy.

“Do you need a bathmat?”

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