Enemies

by Tijan

“Abundantly.” And because I knew where he was going, and I was petty and I wanted to get there first, I hung up on him. Bastard.

After a beat. I clipped out, “Do me a favor? Lose my number.” I hung up on him. Again. And it felt damn good.

Purse. Books for tomorrow. Phone. Keys. I checked—I had a bra on.

“How many fingers do you see?” He was holding up three. I said, “Four.” I was lying. Instant concern filled his gaze. A deep, aggravated sigh left Stone again. “She’s fucking with you. She

watch. You’re welcome to join me, or not. I don’t give a shit, just don’t leave, because in your state, you’d probably walk into oncoming traffic.”

I gave him a weak smile. “I blame my concussion.” He growled, fixing me with a heated glare. “You are so fucking stupid.” Yep. I so knew that. But on the flipside, I was now a single mother-figure. So, yay that?

She half-grinned to herself. “Don’t think anyone would turn down free cleaning and a personal chef.”

Shit. Double shitter let’s all take a dump together shitter.

“Take your hand off my dick.” “Shit.” From Joe. I did so, releasing him, but my thumb ran over his tip as a parting goodbye. “Pull your hand out of my pants.” I did so, half-laughing as I felt his hand flexing to cup the back of my head. “Now.” He nipped at my earlobe with his teeth. “Zip me up.”

“Don’t forget to pull out, Harrington!” There was a scream in there, too, and then from him, “Shut up!” He groaned. “I was fucking sleeping, douche.”