Page 38 of Desert Loyalties
“Rumours,” he says with a smirk, stretching like a satisfied cat. “Lies. Slander.”
“Rumours that are true,” I shoot back, fanning myself with my hand.
He groans, pushing himself up. “Well, it won’t matter anyway.” He glances down at me with that possessive glint in his eye. “You’ll be moving in with me soon.”
“Oh, yeah,” I say, feigning enthusiasm. “Totally looking forward to packing. Can’t wait to shove my entire life into boxes in this heat. Yay.”
He catches the look on my face and laughs, wicked and knowing. Then, before I can protest, he grabs my ankles and yanks me down the bed.
“Drake!”
“I’ll have the prospects do it,” he says, grinning.
I shoot him a flat look. “You really want prospects digging through my panty drawer?”
He pauses, considering. Then he shrugs like a man making peace with his fate and hauls me up effortless, throwing me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing.
“Then I’ll help you pack,” he says smugly, slapping my ass hard enough to make me squeal.
“Youreallylove pulling this move,” I say, my voice bouncing as he carries me.
“It’s efficient,” he replies, like this is the most logical thing in the world, already striding toward the bathroom. “And I get the view.”
“You’re such a caveman,” I mutter, laughing in spite of myself.
He kicks open the bathroom door.
“Yeah,” he says. “But I’myourcaveman.”
And then he steps into the shower, both of us still a mess, hot, sticky, and grinning like idiots.
Chapter 15
SKYE
“Come on, Skye, we gotta go!” I shout down the hall for the third time. She kicked me out of the damn bedroom twenty minutes ago, said she couldn’t get ready with me lurking, throwing my“smoulder”at her, whatever the hell that means.
“Stop yelling!” she snaps from behind the door.
I roll my eyes and mutter, “I’m not yelling.” But I shut up anyway. She’s cranky when she’s rushed, and I’ve learned to pick my battles.
Then the door creaks open and I forget how to breathe.
Skye steps out and everything else just fades. She’s in this tight shiny golden dress that wraps around her like sin, hugging her curves in all the ways that make me want to cancel whatever the hell we’re going to and throw her back on the bed.
The top is low-cut, pushing her tits up like an offering to the gods or me, which, honestly, same thing. The dress flares out slightly at the waist, short enough to show off her legs, but she’s got on these black patterned leggings that somehow make itsexierinstead of covering her up.
She walks over and spins once like she’s unsure, biting her lip. “Is this, okay?”
Then she hikes her leg up onto the coffee table, balancing like a damn goddess, and gestures at the leggings. “These didn’t really come with the dress, but I figured if we ride the bike, I’d need something practical.”
I can't respond. My brain's still short-circuiting.
Her boots are sky-high, fuck-me red, matching her lips and her hair’s glossy and full, falling around her shoulders like she stepped off the set of a movie I’d definitely jerk off to. The whole look is dangerous.
I stare at her, speechless, for once in my goddamn life.
“You gonna say anything?” she asks, tilting her head.
