Page 72 of Duty and Desire
It just kinda sucked Lottie had had it.
“I’m good,” Mo muttered.
“Stay good, stay sharp and ask her out after we know she’s safe,” Hawk ordered. After that, he gave Mo an, “Out,” and he hung up.
But Mo was staring at the couch across from him.
Ask her out after we know she’s safe?
He knew Hawk had seen his mug frequently over years. He also knew the man had 20/20 vision.
So why was he saying shit like that?
“Yo.”
He turned his head and got smacked in the face with the view of Lottie in nothing but that nightie, her hair up at the back of her crown, but it was slapdash, so some of it was tickling her jaw, cheeks and neck.
All of those last, and including the rest of her face, looked like it was covered in shaving cream.
“Jesus,” he mumbled.
“Firming mousse,” she explained the shit on her face. “You want breakfast?”
He was starved.
She was in a nightie.
Was she intending to cook in that nightie?
“No,” he answered.
“I do and you’re covering my ass so if you don’t eat, you get to watch me cook…” she tipped her head and smiled at him through foamy goo that was slowly melting into just goo, “then eat.”
He realized, with the smile, and the way he was noticing her words sounded funny, that she had something on her teeth.
“What’s wrong with your mouth?” he asked.
“Whitening strips.” She bobbed out a hip, a move that felt like a sharp tug on his balls, and sassed, “Honey, all this,” she swept an arm down her length, “doesn’t come for free byanydefinition of that word.”
With that she turned and bounced out of the room, the satin hugging her ass, the cream edge waving like an invitation.
Fuck him, fuck him,fuck him.
He had to get up and follow her.
Fuck him, fuck him, fuck…him.
Mo got up and followed her.
His legs longer, he caught up with her on the stairs.
She headed direct to the kitchen.
“Nespresso?” she asked, but she had a sort of lisp so it came out, “Nethpretho?”
Christ.
He wanted to laugh.
