Page 3 of Love Me Reckless

I’m about to walk up and knock when the noises turn distinctive. Slurping and…

“Yeah, suck my cock. Ooooh, yeah.”

Oops. Not music.

I’m pivoting to get the hell out of there but at that same moment, the person inside the room leans back, bringing a slice of his pale gray suit and his profile into view.

I’m not absolutely sure, but I think it’s Kirilee’s fiancé. Getting his dick sucked. Enthusiastically.

Shit.

I stand frozen while the implications wheel through my brain. If it’s him, why is he back here with someone else? I want to yank him from the room and break his pretty face, but I force in a cooling breath. I don’t get into fights anymore. And it’s not my place to intervene. What if I make the situation worse?

With my fists clenched, I retrace my steps, forcing the image of this jerkwad getting off with someone who isn’t his fiancée from my mind so Kirilee won’t be able to read it on my face.

“No luck?” Kirilee asks when I round the corner.

“I couldn’t get into the office.” I tell myself that skipping over details is not the same as lying, because I don’t do that anymore either. “I got a better idea though.”

“Oh?”

I turn around and tap my shoulder. “Get on.”

“Where are we going?”

“I happen to know a paramedic.”

“I’m not dying,” she says with a laugh.

I have a feeling she might if she knew what was happening down the hall.

“He tells really good jokes too,” I say to get us moving because I don’t want her to be here when doucheface appears.

“I won’t need stitches, will I?” Kirilee asks, sliding her hands and legs around me.

“Doubtful.”

Kirilee sighs. “Good. I don’t like hospitals.”

I lift her from the table, hitching her up a little higher as I do. I shouldn’t like the little gasp that escapes her lips. And I shouldn’t like the way her body feels against mine.

But I do like it.

A lot.

Chapter Two

KIRILEE

Whoa.Wrapping my legs around this brawny stranger feels weirdly intimate. Maybe it’s the solid feel of his body. Maybe it’s his big, rough hands around my thighs.

A tingle zips down my spine, but I shake it off.

“You’re Zach’s friend, right?” I ask him as we exit the kitchen. His thick, blond hair is shorter on the sides, like he trims it regularly. I grip his shoulders tighter to keep my fingers from wandering.

“Yep.” He glances back, but I only catch him in profile. “Sawyer.”

“Kirilee,” I tell him.

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