I dropped my head, kissed the skin right below her ear, and whispered, “I know you haven’t forgotten. I sure as fuck will never forget. Your body can’t lie. You can’t fake what we shared. But on the off-chance you need the reminder…” I trailed off and let my tongue do the dirty work. By the time I traced a line down to her clavicle, she was trembling.
Never had I known a woman to be so responsive.
I stepped away, not needing any more temptation from Evette. Owen was there which would’ve caused me alarm if I didn’t know him so well. If there was a problem he would’ve saved time and called. He’d come by for one reason only—to break my balls. Cooper had taken to giving Owen daily updates. These reports had nothing to do with the investigation. They were a running commentary about Evette.
Talk about fucked-up timing.
I was walking out of Evette’s room and had no good excuse for being in there with the door shut. I found my friend with his head in the refrigerator but he quickly straightened when he heard me enter the kitchen, a smirk firmly in place.
“I was getting worried,” Owen announced.
“Worried?”
“That you got lost.”
Lost?
Christ, Owen had no idea how close that came to hitting the bone. Thirty minutes ago, I had been lost in a sea of lust and emotion. It was the ‘and’ in that sentence that scared the hell out of me.
“What are you doing here?”
“What? I can’t come visit my good pal?”
Good pal.
“Are you drunk?”
Owen ignored me and glanced over my shoulder.
“Where’s Evette?”
My eyes narrowed on my friend. I had no good answer. Anything I said would be used as ammunition against me.
“Better question is why are you here? And don’t call me pal.”
“I’m here because I’m hungry. Nat’s working until close at the store and I didn’t feel like cooking.”
He was so full of shit.
“We’ve eaten,” I lied, not wanting him to stay.
A wide smile curved up the corners of Owen’s mouth and I realized my mistake.
“I’m sure you have,” he retorted.
“Are you ten?”
“Turnabout, pal. All is fair in the payback game.”
“And what am I being paid back for exactly?”
“Meat.”
At the disgruntled look on Owen’s face, I couldn’t hold back my rumble of laughter. As a matter of fact, I laughed until I was doubled over remembering the most asinine conversation I’d ever been a part of. But I wasn’t the one who’d taunted Owen with inuendoes and vague references to penises, as Natasha had liked to call Kevin’s meat. Nor had I declared to like tacos. I’d been an innocent bystander.
“That was Kevin,” I reminded him.
“You goaded him.”
“Wrong again. It was your girlfriend who threatened my butthole.”
“Um, what?”
I turned to find Evette standing behind me. Her smile was no less wider than Owen’s. The only difference was seeing hers made me want to kiss it off her face.
“Owen’s woman’s vicious,” I told Evette.
“She didn’t threaten your butthole, idiot.”
I gave a mock shudder and continued to exaggerate the incident.
“She sure as shit did.”
“How does one threaten a butthole?” Evette asked.
The perplexed look on her face coupled with Owen’s irritated exhale had me in another fit of laughter.
“With poison,” I choked out.
“Poison? Like inserting it in your butthole with—”
“Ex-lax,” Owen interrupted her. “The idiot is talking about ex-lax, not poison.”
“Oh,” Evette dragged out the word then smiled. “That’s not vicious. That’s smart.”
When my laughter died down to a chuckle I shrugged and said, “Toe-may-toe. Toe-mah-toe.”
“So what do you have to eat around here?” Owen asked.
I was still looking at Evette so I didn’t miss the flare of her eyes.
Yeah, honey, I want him gone, too.
Resigned to the fact that Owen wasn’t leaving until I fed him, I gave in to him. The faster I had dinner on the table the sooner he’d leave and hopefully I could get Evette back into her room before Cooper came home.
“Spaghetti,” I announced and moved farther into the kitchen.
“You’re grumpy,” Owen muttered quietly as I passed him.
“And you’re interrupting.”
“You don’t say?” He smirked.
Smug asshole.
I grabbed a jar of sauce and a box of noodles from the pantry and set them on the counter before I knelt to grab a pan.
“Need help?” Evette inquired.
“Nope. Tell Owen to get you a drink and go sit.”
“I can make a salad,” she pushed.
“Do you want a salad?”
“Not really.”
“Good. Owen gets spaghetti and nothing else.”
“That’s rude.”
I straightened and placed the large pot in the sink and turned around to face Evette. I took in