Page 92 of Only With Me
“Delly…” he singsongs, then points to her standing next to me.
That’s a new nickname I’ve never heard before.
Shaking my head, I kneel to untie his boots. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” he asks, his tone tripping with offense.
“Because she’s my ex-girlfriend.”
I almost feel bad saying that considering what I did with her little sister tonight. If I’m not allowed to date Harlow, he’s not allowed to date my ex.
Except Delilah would never be interested in him anyway, so there’s no use in hurting his feelings.
He scoffs. “So what?”
“So you’re too much of a handful as it is and she has enough on her plate,” I say, removing one boot and then going to the other.
“You’re the one who said it was my fault you have no datin’ life because I’mtoo much work, so if I get married, I’m no longer your problem.”
“I didn’t say you were too much work.”
Not in those exact words anyway.
“And you should focus on yourself before gettin’ a wife,” I tell him, taking off the second boot.
“We’re not gettin’ any younger…” he singsongs. “You said it—we’re not fall chickens.”
Standing, I pull him into a sitting position and lift his shirt, then yank it over his head.
“Springchickens,” I clarify.
“Yeah, that.” He drops back on the mattress.
“Women don’t like comin’ home to husbands who drink themselves stupid. So until then, you can’t get married.”
“That’s not fair!” He pouts like a prepubescent child. “Plus, I’m not even drunk…” He attempts to wiggle out of his jeans without undoing the button. “And fine, I’ll quit if it means you’ll lemme get married.”
I stifle a laugh at how ridiculous this conversation is. “Please do.”
“And then she’ll marry me.” He throws his pants, leaving him in his boxer briefs. “Right, Delly baby?”
“Baby?” I look between them.
“Sorry, I don’t marry men who wear red briefs,” she quips.
When I glance back at her, I can tell she’s toying with him.
To be fair, he makes it too easy. Especially when he’s wasted.
“Nadda problem, I’ll take ‘em off.” His hands go to his waist, and I quickly stop him.
“Dude, no. Wait until I’m outta here.”
“Me too,” Delilah adds.
“Don’t ya wanna see my new tattoo and piercing?” He waggles his brows with half-open eyelids. “They’re under the briefs…”
I pinch the bridge of my nose at his taunting voice. “Jesus Christ. Just get under the covers and go to sleep,” I beg.
