Page 9 of Sleepless Beauties
With luggage.
As if they’re planning to stay a while.
Motherfucker!
Three
Kira
The first man strides in as if this has been his apartment for years and he’s happily reunited with all his beloved possessions after a long time away. Probably has renter’s insurance or some shit. His luggage —an old Bull’s duffle bag— gets tossed on the couch without care. He kicks his enormous sneakers off haphazardly near the door, flinging dirt over the beige carpet as he goes.
The second man sets his duffle down quietly and I appreciate him as he slowly slips out of his shoes and closes the door behind him.At least one of these assholes has manners.
Then his hand grips the bottom of his green shirt and he pulls it up slowly. Inch by glorious inch of smooth bronze skin reveals the deep lines of his abdomen.
My eyebrows lift high, but that’s the only outrage I’m capable of expressing. My brain is detesting it, complaining about the audacity, but my uterus is already bundling up a little egg and preparing it like a present just for him, whenever he’s ready.
He folds the shirt, but when he unbuttons and drops his jeans, my brain finally clocks back into work.
“Who the fuck are you two?” I sputter from the floor, still trapped and held prisoner in my own house by the jerk leaning above me.
The man is folding his jeans now as well, his innocent and smiling eyes finally meet mine, as if he forgot I was here at all.
Yeah. Y’all invited me to my your housewarming party here, asshole. Please acknowledge me!
He kneels down on his hunches, squatting in nothing but a pair of tight black boxers and a bulge that not even Mother Mary could ignore.
He sweeps his long golden blonde hair from his eyes, giving me a gleaming smile like the sun rising over a crashing ocean.
“Vuitton,” he extends his big hand an inch away from mine… the one that’s held down to the floor where I’ve been pinned.
I pause, but awkwardly lift my wrist as much as I can. He proceeds to shake it like the weird gentleman that he is before releasing it.
My hand drops to the floor like a dead fish, yet still he lingers.
“Louis and I are guards.”
“Wolves,” Louis corrects.
“Wolves,” Prey rolls his eyes hard.
“Don’t be mad, little leech. It’s not our fault that our senses are so superior.” Vuitton is still smiling that big aloof smile he walked in with.
“Louis and Vuitton.” I blink at that.
Vuitton smiles, like a dog about to pounce a tennis ball.
“Your sister named us. We’re her personal guards when she needs us.”
“Were.Wewereher guards,” Louis corrects once more as he pulls his shirt off and gazes intently out the foggy glass window that overlooks my quiet street.
Guard dogs.
My sister had a pair of guard dogs.
And she named them after shoes…
I blink up at the enormous beautiful man as I try to sort out the mess my life has become.
