Page 83 of Something Cheeky

“Mr. Bobbins is sleeping between your legs.”

“That’s why I can’t move them.”

“There’s more.”

He squinted and lifted his head to look at his legs.

“His head is on my balls!”

Zoe bit her lip to keep from laughing.

“Is he going to attack me if I move him? What if he attacks my—”

“Shhh, it’s okay.” She giggled. “You’re the first guy to spend the night, but I think he likes you.”

“So he holds my junk hostage?” Derek dropped his head back to the pillow. “Dammit, Mr. B, stop purring!”

“You’re being dramatic,” she teased. “He’ll get up once I open a can of tuna.”

Derek closed his eyes and scrunched his face as if he were in pain. His neck and face were beet red.

“Are you hurt?” She looked under the sheet. “Please tell me that’s morning wood and not because of the cat.”

“Go open the tuna,” he said through gritted teeth. “Please.”

Zoe pressed her lips together to hold back her laughter but her shoulders still shook.

“I cannot believe my girlfriend will not move her cat off my dick. Which is one of your favorite parts of my body.” He enunciated each word firmly.

“You know the rule. If a cat sits on you, you can’t move until he does.”

“Zoe,” he half-whined. “I have to go to the bathroom and you’re laughing at my pain.”

“Sorry,” she squeaked before breaking into peals of laughter.

Mr. Bobbins glared at her for waking him up. She mouthed an apology to the furball. Tired of their antics, the cat hopped off the bed and left the room. Derek threw off the covers and made a dash to the bathroom. He also gave her a very lovely view of his bare ass.

Maybe they should stay in bed and make it a lazy Saturday. Neither of them had taken a full day off in over two weeks. She wouldn’t mind curling up in bed with him and watching a costume drama.

“Hurry up! The bed is getting cold,” she called out to Derek.

She heard a muffled ring tone coming from the living room. It was her mother! She threw on a plush chenille robe—her design of course—and followed the sound of her phone. By the time she’d located it under the couch, the call had gone to voicemail.

“Six missed calls?” she read aloud. “From the restaurant. Má is never there so early on Saturdays.”

Zoe hit the button for Ph?-Ever 75, but it rang and rang. Something was wrong. She fumbled through her favorites list and called her mother’s cell phone.

“Zoe.” Her mom stretched out the end of her name in a worried tone. “Come to Eden Center right away.”

“Do I hear sirens?” She couldn’t hide the panic from her voice. “Má, are you okay? Are you hurt? Is it Ba?”

“Someone spray-painted terrible things all over Eden Center. They are so bad.” Her mom started crying.

Her mother only cried during romance movies.

“I’m coming. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

“Okay, con, be careful.” Her mother hung up.

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