Page 10 of CurVy Forever

Stop staring, Vallie!

I clear my throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Bail. Thanks to a retrial due to a compromised juror.”

He halts at the bottom of the steps and clasps his hands in front of him, resting them against the lush material of his suit. He has money. I never thought to ask…

Do the boys come from money?

He gestures to the cage, his expression effortlessly charming, a smooth, well-defined angular face that resembles a goddamn work of art; freshly shaven, contoured cheeks; his brother’s blue eyes.

“Where is my little brother? Surely, he could have assisted with this…” He muses on the cage. “Item.”

“He’s asleep,” I mutter, then curse at myself.

Fuck, Vallie.

Can you trust this guy?

I tell my hormones to chill the fuck out. He kidnapped a little girl… He’s a monster.

My cheeks don’t listen, blooming a rosy hue to match my rising heat. “This is for my dog. I have a dog. A big one. He’s huge and mean, actually.”

Dumb.

He grins, and God. “You don’t have a dog. Would you like me to help you with that? You need only ask… sweetly.”

Is he serious? I scoff. “I can do it myself.”

“That lie won’t benefit you. Tell the truth.”

Holy fuck me.

His irresistible magnetism forces the truth through my lips. I admit through a small voice, “I can’t lift it.”

“Well.” He takes the three steps up to me, forcing me to lift my chin and squint as the sun cuts around his body. Then, he casts a shadow over the porch. I’m floored. Can’t think or breathe or function. He wraps his fingers around the top handle and lifts it. “It’s a good thing I’m here. Isn’t it, Baby Girl?”

I step aside in confusion as he walks into my house with an air of confidence. Like he’s been here a million times.

Following him in, I watch as he sets the cage down in the corner of the open-plan space and peers around.

“Small,” he mutters, more to himself than to me.

“Well, it’s just me.” I cross my arms over my chest and instantly wish I was wearing a bra.

I look down at my feet—slippers.

Dammit.

“And my dog,” I add quickly.

He smirks. “Right, your dog.”

“Dex.” I hear Tyler’s voice before I see him, and when I twist to find him standing in the hallway, he is statue-still. His stillness is unsettling, as always.

But he is a beautiful sight: his hair is sexily tussled, and his bare chest screams to have my fingers glide down the smooth plane to his low-hanging trousers. The curve of his cock bows out at his crotch, but it’s the look on his chiselled face that catches me off guard. He stares deadpan at Dexter.

No manly show of affection?

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