Page 83 of The Destruction You Desire
"What the fuck?" a familiar voice snaps from the doorway of my room two seconds after it swings open. "What the hell are you doing, Luc?"
"Go away."
She laughs as she pads across the room, throwing the curtains open and doing the same with the windows.
"If you think that's going to work then you don't know me as well as I think you do," she mutters, turning back to look at me with her hands on her hips and a fiercely stubborn look on her face.
"Whoa, captain material right here," a deep voice rumbles, amusement laced through his irritating tone.
"Oh fuck right off, Let. You didn't fucking bring him." I push myself up against the headboard, room spinning around me as a bottle rolls off the bed and clatters against the floor.
"Talk to my girl like that again, Dunn, and this cloud of weed isn't what will end your NFL career before it's even started."
"Get the fuck out of here, Legend. No one fucking invited you to join the party."
"This isn't a fucking party, Luc," Letty spits as she begins tidying up around me. "Kane, go and wait downstairs. I got this."
He stands in my doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, his face hard and deadly.
"Kane," she urges.
"It was much tidier the last time I was in here. Smelled better too," he muses.
"When the fuck have you ever been in my room before?"
His eyes slide over to Letty. "You wanna tell him, Princess, or shall I?"
"Do as you're told for once, Kane."
"Fine. I'll leave it to you. Just don't forget to tell him how loud you screamed."
"Get out," she cries, throwing an empty beer bottle at him. He catches it with no effort before placing it on the dresser beside him.
"Going. Watch yourself, Dunn."
"I'm not gonna touch your girl, Legend." But despite his confidence, his eyes hold mine for a beat before he finally turns his back on both of us and leaves.
Letty walks over and closes the door behind him. Her presence in what's become my sanctuary over the past week or so is oppressive and no matter how much I might love her, right now, I just want her to leave me to my own misery.
"I'm done letting you wallow in self-pity. Your pity party for one is officially over," she states, dropping a few more bottles into the bag in her hand before placing it by the door, ready to go down to the trash. "It's time to sort your shit out."
She steps up to the bed and reaches for the sheets.
"You need to get up, get showered, shaved, and put your fucking game face on."
"Let, no," I cry, trying to catch the sheets as she pulls them from my body but my alcohol-dazed brain means my arms don't coordinate with my head and they're gone before I get to stop them.
Instead, I'm forced to just cup my junk as I sit naked in the middle of my bed.
"Jesus, Luc."
"What? It's my fucking bed. I can sleep naked if I want."
"Whatever. Here," she says, grabbing a pair of boxers from my drawer and throwing them at me.
"You mind?" I ask when she just stands there.
"I've seen your cock before, Luc. It was nothing mind-blowing."
