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Feisty little hoodlum on the streets, lingerie wearing badass in the sheets. Literal perfection.
“You should come with a warning label. Little Demon: All. The. Hazards. All of them. I’m sewing it in all your clothes.”
and his lower back has those dimples that are like perfect little thumb holders. If I straddled his ass and wrapped my fingers around his hips, my thumbs would fit perfectly there. I shall now call them Mercer’s thumb rests.
He pulls my feet onto his lap, rubs them through my socks, and doesn’t say a word about it. He does point to his dick and make an X with his fingers so I know not to kick there again. Don’t Xs mark the spot?
“Okay,” I tell Aaron. “Now is good. I dunno what you’re gonna say, but if I detect even a hint of pity in your voice, I will find where you live and put your dick in a sausage grinder.”
Sometimes I forget he is literally trained to read people. “Don’t make me dick-kick you again, Carter.”
“Why do you look like me?” I finally break down and ask. From the passenger seat of the Denali, he keeps the binoculars to his face and sucks on a lolly. “Because you haven’t taken my bait yet, so this is my way of testing my theory.” “What theory?” “That you’re egotistical and want to fuck yourself.” He drops the binoculars to his lap. “Is it working? You wanna fuck mini-you?”
“Fuck me before I accidentally kill you,” Mercer demands like a bossy bitch.
“I hate cuddling,” I remind him, holding tighter, feeling more and more relaxed. “I know.” He’s calling me a liar. “Don’t kick me in the balls again.” “No promises.”
“Which reminds me. That fireman’s breakfast is tomorrow. I signed you up. You gotta be there at five.” “In the fucking morning!?” “Mm.” Now I want to bite his dick instead of lick it.
He bends down to kiss me, and just when I think it’s going to get sexy again, he pulls back, flips me over, and smacks my ass. “Now go clean your mess in the kitchen and I’ll watch you houseboy while I drink my coffee.” He jumps out of bed with way too much pep in his step. I should have dick-kicked him again.
“I suck you off, you take me to the murder. Yes?” I push on his head, but we both know he’s the one in charge here. “No murder, no blowjob.” Taking him on a job is irresponsible, but I can’t think straight when he looks like this. It even turns me on that he has the balls to negotiate with me while my cock bobs in front of his face. “Fine. Blowjobs and murder.”
To be honest, I don’t mind changing since I barely know who I am anyway, but becoming a murderer at twenty-three hadn’t been on my list of life goals. Although, murdering my would-be-murderer feels half decent.
Dad laughs, in a good mood this morning. “If you honestly want training, we can arrange that.” Mercer beams a victorious smile. “Excellent. So, when do I get to rise from the dead?” “Three days,” Dad tells him. Mercer grins. “So, you’re telling me I’m basically Jesus then?”
He points my phone at my face to unlock it and then helps himself. “I’m snooping.” “I figured.” “I also know your password, but thought I’d respect your privacy by making you aware I’m doing it.”
He threw me over his shoulder, spanked my ass, and told me to shut my mouth and pack a bag. I packed seven bags.
I drop my phone on the bed Blake hasn’t slept in since he left, feeling sad without him. I might have called him 127 times since he’s been gone, but he called me at least 42 times, so I call it even.
If my punishment involves a naked Blake with a twitchy palm and power in his eyes, it’ll be a million times better than those firefighters. Gosh, this murder side trip is worth it already. “What should I wear?”
feel even better about mission ‘Whacking Will’ now.” “No one calls it that,” Bronson says. “Uh, we all call it that. It’s the mission name.” I glare at him.
I straddle his lap and look into his eyes. “You sure you wanna marry me? I’m a lot to handle.” “Mm.” He grins. “And I lie sometimes.” “You lie about lying.”
I’ll die if you leave me or change your mind, but at least I’m pretending to give you the option to think about it.”
