Page 120 of The Villain

“A surprise?” She perks up with excitement.

“It’s your birthday tomorrow, angel,” Asher reminds her with a smirk.

“I know,” she bounces and then winces. “Too much pizza.”

I roll to my feet to find something that would soothe her stomach.

When I come back they’re standing in preparation to go.

“Drink,” I hand her the glass.

She looks down and gets a soft smile as she accepts it. “Old fashioned remedy coming right up.”

She chugs the whole thing, winces, then hands it back.

When she belches loudly everyone stares at her. Her face flushes as she mutters excuse me.

“Goodnight South,” she offers me a hug that I accept easily. “I guess rain check on tomorrow? But I can’t wait to spend the night. Shade can stay with the guys.”

“No.” The resounding word is said by all of them as Tera smiles.

“Goodnight,” I nod to the rest of them and go into the kitchen in case someone else wants a hug. Max looks like the type.

By the time I’ve set the kettle on to boil some water the door has closed on them. It’s quiet this far out of the city limits. I had gotten used to the thin walls and chatter all around me. It’s going to be difficult to sleep.

The buzzer has gone off for the sheets to be dry. I set the bed up and get to the kettle as it whistles. I don’t have chai tea. I’ll have to get some. Instead I make a different tea and call it good for now. I hear a car and a truck start up and leave.

I walk into the living room and freeze in place.

He’s standing in front of the door, all the locks done up tight, undressing. His shirt is gone already, along with his socks and shoes. A pile of weapons crowds the coffee table, everything set out in a precise line. He’s working his pants off as he watches me, taking his boxers with them. He’s hard, but his face is the mask again.

“I made you a tea,” I say in a low tone as my eyes wander all over him. “I don’t have chai, though.”

He doesn’t answer as he steps out of the last of his clothes. His pants get folded and set on the coffee table to be picked up later.

“You wanted to play.”

“With you, always,” I admit.

“It’s my turn.”

My head tilts curiously. What kind of game does he want to play?

“Tell me,” I smile, excited for this.

He stalks forward, takes the cup from me and sets it on the side table someone left behind.

“Strip.”

The word is harsh as he crosses his arms to watch me.

Easy enough.

When my shirt comes off, revealing my nipples and the tattoos running over my breastbone he licks his lips hungrily.

“Leave the panties,” he says gruffly as I start to slide the sweats off. I’ve been barefoot so that’s the last thing. The only thing keeping him from seeing me is a flimsy thong.

“I unpacked your clothes,” he says absently, taking his time looking. I stand comfortable under his intense gaze. I’m not shy or ashamed. Now that we’re alone, neither is he.

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