Page 106 of F*ck Steal Kill

“And you ours,” Mallory added, squeezing his hand. Despite them not being sexual with one another, I could see the genuine love they had for each other, and I knew this would work.

It might be wild, and it might be out of the box for most people, but it was exactly what I wanted.

“We should do brunch with my best friends. Holland has three boyfriends, and Lacey is in denial about the guys she likes. It will be fun.”

“Sure. Invite them over tomorrow. I’m excited to meet them,” Mallory said, leaning up and kissing me. “Let’s move to the bedroom. Us old people can’t be as comfortable on the floor, anymore,” she teased.

“Plus, in our excitement, we forgot to show you the surprise,” James added, giving me a wink.

“There’s more?” I asked, leaping up and running down the hall. Pushing open the door to the primary bedroom, I stopped and gaped at what I saw. “How is that possible?”

“It’s custom-made. And now the four of us can sleep comfortably.”

Laughing, I took a flying leap as I jumped on the humongous bed, giggling as the three of them joined me. My heart was full, and I felt utterly like my namesake… Joy.

CHAPTER 35

LACEY

My phone beeped, and I got another text from Joy about doing brunch tomorrow to ‘officially’ meet her lovers. Unofficially, Holland and I had stalked, researched, and verified them after her second date to ensure they weren’t psychos.

Fortunately for Joy, they weren’t. Unfortunately for Holland and I, they were boring upper-class workaholics with too many throw pillows.

Though, some people might say that made them psychos. Who needed that many tiny pillows? All they ended up doing was being tossed to the floor, and then you had to rearrange them again later. They served no purpose outside of collecting dust.

So, clearly, they were psychos. But not the kind I could kill. Shame really.

I was happy for both of my friends as they found people they could share their lives with. And based on the hickeys I saw on Joy’s body, great sex, too. Seriously, I was thrilled for them. I’d give them a round of applause if they were here.

But they weren’t. They never were anymore.

I basically lived alone, which was fine by me—meant more time to do naked cleaning and naked yoga—and I essentially walked around naked any time I wanted because I could.

I hadn’t always been a nudist, but since I hated my neighbors, it was the perfect way to torture them. It was a little game I’d started playing about a month after we’d moved in. Both girls were out, and I’d been enjoying sharpening my knives on the porch. That was until he walked by, ruining my peaceful bubble.

Ryan fucking Sykes and his cocky little followers: Heath and Henry, also known as H-squared since they did everything together. Everything.

Frustrated that they’d infiltrated my safe place, I knew the only way to survive living here was to get payback. And since I couldn’t kill him—again, damn shame—I had to find other ways to torture him… well, them. Ahem.

Of course, I hadn’t expected the aftermath that had followed, pulling me into this game to the point I now craved it… and them.

But I’d deny it if anyone asked. Because, unlike my sisters in crime, I didn’t do relationships. Nope. Never gonna happen.

It had been a few weeks since our last tussle, and with brunch on the horizon, I needed a distraction—time to get naked.

Blinds and curtains open, I undressed in the bathroom, tossing my clothes into the hamper. Pumping my roots up in the mirror, I turned and checked myself out. My dark hair was halfway down my back, the dark magenta ombre at the bottom fresh and laying perfectly against my pale skin. I pulled the front up into a small top-knot, leaving a few strands to fall around my face.

My blue eyes shimmered, the dark eyeliner and shadow making them stand out more. My lip stain had faded, so I applied a new layer of the shimmery nude color I loved after a quick mouthwash rinse. Adding some deodorant and a few spritzes of my perfume in strategic areas, I felt ready to strut around the house naked.

For myself, obviously. The primping was all self-care. Totes.

My rib tattoo stood out against my skin as I turned and hit the light while padding across the soft carpet. A thrill of excitement zinged through me as I stepped out into my bedroom. The freedom of being completely bare was a high I never knew I needed. Though, with my exhibition kink, I shouldn’t have been surprised.

Picking up a few things around the room, I moved through the house and shifted items from one spot to the next. From the corner of my eye, I spotted my first viewer. Grinning to myself, I entered the kitchen, where the floor-to-ceiling window was in front of the dining room table.

I grabbed the eggs and butter from the fridge and spotted a second viewer when I reached for the sugar and flour. Preheating the oven, I leaned up on my tiptoes as I stretched over the stove for the chocolate chips. It didn’t make sense to store them up there, but having to reach for them was always a crowd-pleaser. And sure enough, by the time I bent over for the glass bowl to dump everything into, the final guest had arrived.

Smirking, I turned on my playlist and danced as I mixed the ingredients. I enjoyed baking so much that, at this point, I usually lost focus on the game and just had fun, which was good since no one liked salt mistaken for sugar in their muffins. Dropping the batter into the muffin pan, I placed them in the oven and set the timer just as the knock came.

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