Page 166 of Duty and Desire
Now all he had to do was fuck her on the couch in front of her TV, in her shower, and in his bed.
Then he could make another to-do list.
“Holy smokes, this place israd,”Lottie breathed as he led her into his LoHi condo.
Mo dropped her hand and moved to the kitchen, but did it looking around.
He had to admit, his crib was pretty awesome.
He’d just liked the space and it was a good investment, a hot ’hood in Denver, great scores for walking, restaurants, shops, transit. Central location. Excellent views. Fireplace. Easy access to I-25.
It wasn’t spacious, something Tammy bitched about a lot.
But Mag and him didn’t feel on top of each other.
Then again, one of them was always working, at the gym, Mag off scoring, or they both were sleeping, so it wasn’t often they co-existed in the space.
Though seeing his neatly-stacked pile of mail, he was feeling good about his friend and roommate. Mag was not as obsessive as Lottie, but he was as obsessive as Mo. And that worked.
“Seriously, pookie, Hawk really doesn’t have you on food stamps, does he?” she asked.
Hawk did not.
He stopped at the marble-topped island where his mail was and grinned at her.
“Wander around,” he invited. “I gotta go through my mail.”
“Which bedroom is yours?” she asked.
He was rethinking his invitation, wondering if he could concentrate on mail when Lottie was in his bedroom for the first time, but he saw the excitement on her face.
She liked his place.
Mo liked that she liked his place.
So he said, “To the left.”
She looked that way before she walked that way.
He watched her go then cast his glance across the entirety of the space.
When he bought it four years ago, he’d moved his shitty-ass stuff in there.
He then listened to his sisters bitch at him for a year about his shitty-ass stuff being in a LoHi condo with a view of the city where you could hit Little Man Ice Cream with no hassle.
So he’d gone to a swank furniture store where the pictures online showed stuff he didn’t mind. He’d found a chick who worked there and told her he needed a comfortable couch and chair, a rug, decent dining table, some stools, a bed and a dresser and asked her where he could buy a bathroom mat and some towels that didn’t suck.
The woman had visibly lost her mind.
She’d then shared she was getting married in a couple of months, had just registered, therefore knew where the best stuff was, and told him she’d set him up. She even met him at other stores to sort his shit.
He’d gone to her wedding. She’d been a pretty bride. Her husband was top-notch.
And even Mo had to admit, with the grays, beiges, blues, woods, glass and kickass lamps, she hadn’t done too badly.
And it had been three years and his towels were still the shit.
Tammy hadn’t even griped about his towels.
