Page 43 of Play Fast (Brooklyn Dawn 2)

And I hated myself for thinking it, even for a second, but I wanted this moment to be only ours. We’d had so few of them, and I was greedy.

A knock sounded on the front door, staccato and sharp.

We exchanged a look before Oz stood to drag on his jeans and shirt. He took the washcloth from me, and I crawled to the end of the bed, grimacing at the soreness between my legs. I’d expected to ache a little at being plowed by the equivalent of a dick dump truck, but this was excessive.

“You okay?”

I gave him a grim smile. “I’ll just limit walking for a bit.”

He stepped closer and brushed his hand down my face, a slow caress that made my heart turn over. “Let me see who this is and then we’ll take a shower and get you bandaged up.”

We. Was there any better word in the English language? I didn’t think so. The whole taking a shower together thing had possibilities too.

I glanced down at my arm. The splotch beneath the bandage was no longer growing, so I’d probably live. I wouldn’t mention that it currently hurt like a bitch. My fault for stretching it so much in bed. Then again, would I ever regret that?

Not likely.

Oz moved away, his steps quick and clipped as another knock rattled the front door. Hopefully, he didn’t think I’d avoided answering him on purpose. I was still kind of in shock about this weekend’s events. Every one of them had been crazier than the last.

I sincerely hoped that trend would not continue.

All I wanted was to bask in what had just happened—and cross my fingers it would happen again very soon. And this time, I would be a much more active participant. Oz had barely even let me touch him. He hadn’t expressly told me not to, but he’d so fully taken my attention with what he was doing to me, I hadn’t even realized how one-sided it had been until now.

I mean, yay me. For a first time full sexual experience, I had no complaints. Just next time, I wanted to get some of my own back.

He had such a sexy body. All those miles of muscles I craved to explore with my hands…and my mouth. He’d surprised me by having just one shadowy dark tattoo on his left pec, tucked near his arm so it was easily covered by the leather vests he liked to wear onstage. I’d had a glimpse of a rounded shape within a frame and some roman numerals, but it was as hazy as a lot of the last hour. I intended to learn every detail about it next time.

Such potent words. The future was so scary—and filled with so much promise. Especially now.

Oz’s voice rang out, louder than usual. I frowned and bent to grab my clothes—his clothes, which was even hotter now that he’d been inside me—and hurriedly tugged them on. I’d just shoved my head through the tank top when the lower, more controlled male voice finally registered in my head.

Good God, was that Noah Jordan? Aka my cousin?

Dear Lord, why?

Okay, so he wasn’t exactly my cousin. His family had married into mine somehow about a decade ago, and he and his brother, Hunter, had just started showing up at the occasional family gathering. Not that we attended many of those anymore since my mother had started using her passport like a bingo card, but back in the day, we’d spent time with extended family more than at holidays and funerals and weddings.

Hunter had never paid me much mind. Probably because he was mister big rockstar now, and in the early days of our acquaintance, he’d been on his way up. He had larger concerns than negligibly related family. As did Noah, who had been an Army Ranger and now was part of some super secret security operation run by the Roth brothers. I only knew that because they’d vetted me before I was hired by Ripper Records.

My nefarious past as a teenage shoplifter of gummy bears from the local Shop Mart had nearly sunk my battleship.

I pushed my hands through my wild hair and tried to tie it up into a respectable bun. Gee, too bad we couldn’t have my mom parading through while I was still flushed after being thoroughly rammed.

I should probably quit with the descriptive adjectives in my head before one slipped out and gave Oz enough fodder for his ego for a lifetime.

“Daisy?” Oz called, his voice clearly strained. “Can you come out here for a moment, please?”

If Oz was saying please, things were serious. He wasn’t one for pleasantries.

I glanced at the disordered bed, figuring I should yank the sheets into place in case “Leave No Bedsheet Unturned” Noah came in here to look for boogeymen under the bed. Then I noticed the tiny, almost invisible spot of blood on the white sheets. Of course he’d had to go plain and traditional with them.

God.

“Just a second,” I called back, rushing around the bed to gather up the sheets. I’d just added the pillowcases to the pile in my arms and made it to the doorway when Noah came clomping down the hall in his heavy military-style boots—and halted at the sight of me clutching bedsheets with a probably guilty look on my face.

“Noah, what a surprise.” I cleared my throat. “What’s new?”

Nine

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