Laced Steel - M.J. Fields Page 0,54
over his shoulder.
“Wow, this place cleans up pretty good.”
Gabrielle sniffs. “They do good work.”
“Can you two exchange information on the hired help at a different time, for fuck’s sake?” Tobias snaps.
A loud banging on the door is followed by, “Gabrielle Morales-Ortez, open up or we’re coming in.”
“Fuck,” she huffs then looks at us. “Go.”
“Door’s already sealed,” Tobias tells her.
“Then get in the fucking closet or something, Tobias. You have less than three months until this is no longer your life! Why you chose tonight to step off the wagon is beyond me,” she whisper-snaps at him.
My phone pings in my pocket, and I pull it out to quickly type back:
- Cops are here. Going to be hiding in a closet or some shit. I’m fine. See you soon. DON’T message me. I’ll message you all.
“You done?” Tobias asks.
“Well, yeah, but you don’t have to be such an asshole. I’m trying to help.”
“Truth, I don’t deserve this, but could you please handle him?”
“Handle me?” he asks as I again try to wiggle free, and again, he grips my ass harder.
“You keep handling my ass like that, and my dad’s gonna make you wife it.” I knee him in the chest hard enough that he loses his grip, and then I shimmy down his big, hard body and ignore every snap, crackle, and pop going on inside mine.
Chapter Fifteen
Idiom
Love Begets Love.
Truth
I call bull.
“How the hell does a house this big have such a small closet?” I ask myself out loud.
“The others are bigger,” Tobias whispers.
“Lovely.”
“That’s not what I—” He stops talking and huffs, “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
“Not thinking I asked you to.”
“Maybe not in words, but your fucking eyes are constantly questioning everything—every move, every intention, every—”
“I’m going to save you some embarrassment, stop you right there, and remind you that it’s dark in here, pitch dark, as a matter of fact, and neither of us can see a thing.”
“You know damn well what I’m talking about.”
I turn my body, knowing full well I’m going to be face to chest with him. And he’s right; it doesn’t matter how dark it is in here. It makes things more … intense.
I can tell he’s holding his breath, and for some reason, I like that I make him feel as on edge as he makes me.
“I need something from you.”
He doesn’t respond, and he still hasn’t let out a breath, so I do something … extremely immature, and I poke him in the belly.
A burst of hot, sweet-smelling mix of cinnamon and whiskey hits my face, and he lets out a low chuckle then asks, “Did you just doughboy me?”
I like his laugh as much as I like his smiles that always fade too quickly.
I poke him again, and he chuckles … again.
“Do that again and you’ll regret it,” he warns.
So, I don’t doughboy him; I spread my fingers wide, lay my palm flat on his incredibly ripped abs, and kind of, sort of tickle him.
“The fuck,” he says, trying not to laugh.
I don’t move my hand away from him, and every time he starts to say something, I dig my nails into his belly, but just for a second, because I can now hear the cops inside the house.
“Can’t let her do this shit alone, Tiny T,” he whispers.
Tiny T?
He grips my hips gently. “Gotta move so I can—”
“Oh, no, you don’t,” I grumble as I turn and push my back against him to stop him from moving forward.
“Shit.” He somehow stumbles and grabs me as he goes down.
“Oh my God, is that your phone in your pock—” I smash my hand over my own damn mouth when I realize exactly what it is.
“Been drinking, you got your paws all over me; what do you expect?” he hisses.
I try to move, but he flattens his hand against my belly now to keep me in place. And that one touch releases a swarm of butterflies whose wings are fluttering beneath the surface of my most private parts.
“Where’s your nanny this time, Gabrielle?”
“I’m steps from eighteen; I don’t require a full-time babysitter. She does get time off. And how the hell should I know? She’s an adult and can do whatever she wants.”
A different cop asks, “And how long will she be gone this time?”
“Do you really think I’m going to tell you two when I’ll be alone?”
“Heard from your parents, Gabrielle?” one asks.
“Fuckers,” Tobias grumbles.
“Are you about done here, or should I call my guardian or my lawyers this time?”