Singe (Men of Inked Heatwave #8) - Chelle Bliss Page 0,64

before.

“Night, Arlo,” Rosie says softly, walking behind us down the hallway to the bedrooms.

“Night, babe,” Arlo returns before yanking me into the bedroom.

She closes the door and leaps into my arms, wrapping her legs around me. Her hands are on my face, holding my cheeks. “I’m so proud of you.”

“For what?” I laugh, looking at my girl like she’s fucking nutty.

“You sounded so adult out there. You stayed pretty level-headed and handled them well.”

“If you hadn’t been here…” My words die when her lips collide with mine, the force with which she takes my mouth pushing me backward.

I fall onto the bed, landing on my back with her on top of me, luckily moving her legs as we go down so I don’t crush them under my weight.

“You’d be an awesome dad,” she whispers against my lips.

“I don’t want girls,” I tell her, sliding my hands underneath the T-shirt she put on earlier. “Never girls.”

“Don’t say that. Girls can be great too.”

“When?”

She laughs, and it’s a beautiful sound. “When they’re little.”

“Yeah, then they grow up and turn into them.”

“So, you mean a female version of you, but prettier.”

“Exactly,” I groan.

Her lips come down softly on mine, nipping at my bottom lip. “It’s a shame our evening was interrupted.”

My fingers sweep under her breast. “We can pick up right where we left off.”

“No,” she says, climbing off me, leaving me with wood. “Not with the girls here.”

“I’m back to being pissed at them.”

Arlo laughs again, curling back into my side. “There’s always tomorrow, honey,” she whispers as I reach up, turning off the lamp on my nightstand.

“Tell my dick that, sugar.”

She sits up, bringing her mouth right above my cock. “Tomorrow, little guy.”

Little guy?

I know she hasn’t seen my dick up close and personal in the bare flesh, but nothing about it is little. The outline is clear as day in my gray sweatpants, and the woman has practically ridden on me, dry humping me just a few nights ago.

“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa,” I warn her. “Never, don’t ever, call him ‘little guy.’ Instant boner killer.”

She peers up my body, a wicked grin on her face. “Then my business here is done.”

I place my hands at her sides, pulling her back against me. “Women are cruel creatures.”

“We can be,” she says, smiling against the skin of my chest, dragging those fingernails across my abdomen. “But sometimes the torture can be delicious.”

“I’ll remember you said that next time we’re alone.”

She tips her head back, biting her lip. “I look forward to it, honey.”

“Go to sleep, Arlo.”

She shifts, coming in for another kiss, and I give her my mouth one last time.

“Night, honey.”

“Night, sugar.”

But I don’t fall asleep. I lie there for what feels like hours, thinking about my dick, Arlo, and whose ass I need to beat for getting Luna all fucked up.

The night is long, but I worry tomorrow will be longer.

“I need ibuprofen,” Luna says, walking into the kitchen after peeling her body off the couch. Her eyes are barely open, the sunshine clearly too much for her hungover ass to handle.

“You know where it is,” I reply, standing next to Arlo and prepping the toast for breakfast as she scrambles the eggs.

“Oh God,” Luna whines. “Eggs are not a smell I want right now.”

“You’re going to eat something and get your ass right before we go to Grandma’s.”

“I need to go home and change.”

“Not looking like that,” I tell her.

“He’s right,” Rosie adds, sitting at the kitchen table, having watched and talked to us for the last thirty minutes while she sipped her coffee. “If Mom or Dad sees you right now…”

“Fuck,” Luna hisses and grabs her head. “What the hell did I have last night?”

“A hot biker.” Rosie throws out there.

Luna’s hands drop to her sides, and her eyes widen. “Did I—”

“No. You didn’t sleep with him, but do you remember the fruit punch he gave you?”

Luna blinks, staring across the room at her sister, still in a haze. “Kinda.”

“Well, I think it was spiked with more than booze.”

“Shit,” Luna snaps and crumples forward, resting her elbows on the countertop below the cabinet where I store the ibuprofen. “No wonder I feel like death.”

“Ibuprofen, food, and a hot shower should help you feel slightly better, but it’s going to be a rough day, Lun. You better lie low at Gram’s and stay outside where it’s quieter.”

“I can’t be inside with everyone.”

“Don’t stick around anyone too long because the booze is still coming out of your pores,” I tell her,

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