Page 45 of Mayhem and Minnie

“You,” she says and points a finger at me. A loud giggle erupts and she places an arm around her midriff as she bends over with laughter.

My lips press together in annoyance.

“Me?” I ask slowly.

She nods vigorously.

“Now you are naked!” Another giggle.

I blink and look down at myself. I’m shirtless, it’s true. But I’d hardly call this naked.

“It’s different,” I mutter.

“How so?” she asks, an amused smile still painted on her face.

“I’m a man. I don’t have…breasts.” Heat climbs up my face. Why the hell am I getting flushed over saying the word breasts aloud? It’s as if I were still a child being told off by my mother for saying a bad word. Alas, perhaps washing my mouth with soap did pay off after all.

Minnie sobers up. Striding toward me, she stops in front of me. Before I know what she’s about to do, her finger is poking me in the chest, right over my nipple.

She’s barely touching me, but her flesh is so hot, it’s almost burning a hole through me.

A shudder goes down my back.

“Yes, you do,” she states, quite pleased with herself. “Why aren’t you embarrassed then?”

“I told you. It’s different. I’m a man,” I repeat as I—reluctantly—remove her finger from my person.

“No. It’s not,” she reiterates, placing her hands on her hips and staring at me defiantly. “You’re just mi-mi-mi…” Her brows scrunch up together. Her mouth remains open as she tries to think of the word she’s going to use to insult me.

“Misogynistic?” I offer.

“That word! You’re mis-miso?—”

“Misogynistic,” I repeat, laughing.

“See, that right there.” She points accusingly at me. “Why should you be allowed to be naked but not me?” she demands with a humph.

“Because this is my house and I make the rules. Now come along, little heathen. I’ll clothe you for the night,” I say, turning once more and heading for the stairs.

My lips are pulled up in an amused smile, especially as I hear her muttering something inaudible under her breath—likely cursing me some more.

“Just for the record. I’m not a misogynist. But I’m a stickler for rules. I gave up my own clothing so you could hold onto your modesty.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” she mumbles in a low voice.

I shake my head. She’s an amusing little thing.

We get to my wing of the house, and I ask her to wait for me outside my door. She’s about to ask why, but I close the door in her face before she can muster up some more inane arguments—I really need to get back to sleep soon.

I rummage through my closet and find a pair of unworn boxer briefs and a couple of white shirts. I would give her a pair of pants, too, but unfortunately, they would likely reach her neck.

Damn it. I suppose that since I’ve made myself in charge of her, I might as well clothe her too.

I open the door and hand her the clothes.

“We’ll go shopping tomorrow for clothes. But these should work until then. You still have your pants, no?”

She studies the clothing, giving me an absentminded nod.

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