Page 14 of Lace 'em Up

Or stupider like?—

Something stupider.

Because what am I offering to do?

Strip her naked and fuck her senseless?

That would be pleasurable for both of us. Just…not right now.

“No,” she snaps, glaring at me. “I need you to go.”

Right.

I spin on my heel, take off out of the bathroom, freeing Zeus from his crate (where he’s being a perfect, patient pup, waiting quietly for the chaos to settle).

And then I plunk him on the bed.

And I wait. For the toilet to flush and the sink to turn on and the sound of footsteps to come toward the door.

I open it.

She sighs.

“Deal with it, Prickle Princess,” I mutter, moving toward her and scooping her up again, trying not to recognize that a part of me hidden deep inside is already used to the feel of her in my arms.

I carry her to the bed.

Get her settled under the blankets, smiling as Zeus settles carefully into her side.

Such a good pup.

Not a surprise since he came to me via Rory’s rescue.

And then I crawl in next to her?—

“What the fuck are you doing?” she demands.

I click on the TV.

“I promised Jean-Michel that I wouldn’t let you move so much as an inch. Now”—I look at her, hitch my head toward the TV—“what trash TV show are we watching?”

Her glare should be setting me on fire.

I ignore it.

Okay, fine, some part of me is reveling in it.

But, still, I don’t speak. Just wait.

Wait until she huffs out a breath that has her wincing and turning her glare toward the TV. “The Incredible Dr. Pol,” she finally mutters.

“Excuse me?”

Those words don’t make sense, especially when they’re not some combination of 90 Day Fiancé like the shows my mom and sister watch, or The Bachelor, or some Housewives franchise.

“It’s a show about a vet,” she mutters, sticking out her hand, palm open, fingers twitching as she silently demands the remote. “I’ll put it on.”

My brows lift, but since this is an activity that means that she’ll be remaining in bed, I pass over the remote, watch as she navigates through the streaming services and puts on a show.

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