Page 41 of Pocketful of Us

Giuseppe collapsed on the ground not a moment later.

Horrified, I gaped at his lifeless frame as he bled out on my mama's withered geraniums. "What the hell did you do that for?" I demanded, rushing to his side. "Jesus Christ, you killed him!"

"Wow. Nothing gets past you, does it?" Rolling his eyes, he recited my earlier words. "He was in my way."

"He washarmless," I spat, anger swelling in my gut. "I've known that man for most of my life. He has a wife, dammit."

"And now he has a widow," was his cold answer. "What is your point?"

"You're a real piece of shit, do you know that?" I snarled, climbing to my feet just to shove the bastard. "Goddammit to hell, I must have been crazy agreeing to help you."

"Not crazy, just in love," he replied. "Or maybe that means the same thing. Either way, you will help me. If you don’t, you'll never get her back."

I hated him.

I honest to God hated this guy.

"I am going inside," he continued to say. "Wait out here until I give you the go-ahead. You still have the burner phone I gave you? The moment I text it, youwillfollow me." His tone was hard, matching his darkening expression. "Donotfuck this up."

What.

A.

Dick.

17

Presley

Skulking around a house that aligned with the home of a madman had to be an all-time low for me. Yeah, my stupidity at following my friend into the pits of hell wasn't my brightest idea. I was more likely to end up on a Netflix true-crime original than rescue Sketch.

Knowing my luck, my life would be portrayed in a sidekick/secondary character role by the likes of Dylan O'Brien or Robert Sheehan, while the show focused on Sketch and Romi's epic love story. Sketch would probably get played by Stephen James or some other divine looking God while Britt Robertson played cute-as-a-button Romi. They would get laid plenty while I remained un-sexed and offering up all of the necessary humor provided by the token gay BFF on a hit show. Ugh. Somebody needed to find a stick and beat me with it.

"Sketch?" I whisper-hissed, as I crept around his house in the darkness. Something didn't feel right. Every light in the house was off and not one member of staff was lurking around. Add that to the fact that I wasn't stopped by security at the gates and you had a recipe for a Presley pancake. "If you're in here, then you better show yourself, buddy, because I've had a lot of coffee and I can't guarantee my –"

A hand grabbed me in the darkness, covering my mouth, and cutting off my air supply. Moments later, my back slammed against a hard wall of stone, and the hand on my mouth was replaced with lips.

Warm lips.

Soft lips.

Welcome lips.

Too stunned to do anything but hold my hands up in the air, I sagged against the wall at my back while a skilled tongue probed my lips to duel with mine.

Arousal roared to life inside of my body and it took my brain a few seconds to put the pieces together.

Once I did, I shoved against the powerful chest encasing me and gasped for air. "Did you just kiss me?"

"Yes." Unperturbed by my rejection, Seth didn’t step back. He didn’t give me an inch of personal space. "Are you complaining?"

Was I?

My dick certainly wasn’t.

"Wait –" I shook my head, desperately trying to clear my lust-ridden thoughts and gain some clarity and control of the situation, "What are you doing in here? And where the hell is Ske –"

Before I had a chance to finish, Seth's mouth was on mine again, our lips crashing together violently, as he kissed me hard and rough.

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