Chapter 12 #2
“You could be lazy, but Smithie’s given me the rest of the week off and you have to go back to work tomorrow so I have a weeks’ worth of getting to know my mound of hunkalicious boyfriend to cram into a day so there are things to do,” she declared. “Up and at ’em.”
He pushed up to an elbow and stared back at her.
“Stop looking hot and pounceable,” she ordered. “I’m hungry and you’re out of condoms. So we also have errands to run.”
After that, she shot him a smile and wandered out, wearing what she wore to bed the night before. A red satin nightie that barely covered her ass.
When he lost sight of her, he kept his gaze aimed where he’d last seen her, then he looked down at the empty expanse of bed beside him.
He’d fallen back to sleep.
Not only did it but did it and then didn’t have the dreams.
“Jesus,” he whispered.
How…?
He didn’t ask.
He didn’t care.
He kicked the covers off his legs and got out of bed.
“ Mo ,” Lottie moaned, coming in his mouth.
Mo took it and then licked her clean.
When he could leave her as he wanted her, he ducked out from under her nightie and grabbed hold of her panties which were hooked on one ankle, most of the material lying on the kitchen floor.
He opened them, muttered, “Foot, baby,” and she moved to step in.
He guided the panties up her legs, coming off his knees as he did it, and pulled them over her ass, smoothing them around the waistband while he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck.
He then moved his hands to her waist, rubbing circles there over her nightie with his thumbs and looking in her hazy eyes.
Christ, he liked her like that.
He liked her all the time.
But he definitely liked giving her that.
“Now we can have coffee,” he murmured, grinning at her.
Ascertaining she was steady, he moved to the Nespresso machine, mentally ticking that off the to-do list he’d been forming practically since he met her.
Now all he had to do was fuck her on the couch in front of her TV, in her shower, and in his bed.
Then he could make another to-do list.
“Holy smokes, this place is rad ,” Lottie breathed as he led her into his LoHi condo.
Mo dropped her hand and moved to the kitchen, but did it looking around.
He had to admit, his crib was pretty awesome.
He’d just liked the space and it was a good investment, a hot ’hood in Denver, great scores for walking, restaurants, shops, transit. Central location. Excellent views. Fireplace. Easy access to I-25.
It wasn’t spacious, something Tammy bitched about a lot.
But Mag and him didn’t feel on top of each other.
Then again, one of them was always working, at the gym, Mag off scoring, or they both were sleeping, so it wasn’t often they co-existed in the space.
Though seeing his neatly-stacked pile of mail, he was feeling good about his friend and roommate. Mag was not as obsessive as Lottie, but he was as obsessive as Mo. And that worked.
“Seriously, pookie, Hawk really doesn’t have you on food stamps, does he?” she asked.
Hawk did not.
He stopped at the marble-topped island where his mail was and grinned at her.
“Wander around,” he invited. “I gotta go through my mail.”
“Which bedroom is yours?” she asked.
He was rethinking his invitation, wondering if he could concentrate on mail when Lottie was in his bedroom for the first time, but he saw the excitement on her face.
She liked his place.
Mo liked that she liked his place.
So he said, “To the left.”
She looked that way before she walked that way.
He watched her go then cast his glance across the entirety of the space.
When he bought it four years ago, he’d moved his shitty-ass stuff in there.
He then listened to his sisters bitch at him for a year about his shitty-ass stuff being in a LoHi condo with a view of the city where you could hit Little Man Ice Cream with no hassle.
So he’d gone to a swank furniture store where the pictures online showed stuff he didn’t mind.
He’d found a chick who worked there and told her he needed a comfortable couch and chair, a rug, decent dining table, some stools, a bed and a dresser and asked her where he could buy a bathroom mat and some towels that didn’t suck.
The woman had visibly lost her mind.
She’d then shared she was getting married in a couple of months, had just registered, therefore knew where the best stuff was, and told him she’d set him up. She even met him at other stores to sort his shit.
He’d gone to her wedding. She’d been a pretty bride. Her husband was top-notch.
And even Mo had to admit, with the grays, beiges, blues, woods, glass and kickass lamps, she hadn’t done too badly.
And it had been three years and his towels were still the shit.
Tammy hadn’t even griped about his towels.
She wasn’t a fan of all the rest. Though she was, until he told her some woman he met at a furniture store kitted out his place. After that, she hated it.
At that juncture, Mo was wondering why he’d put up with her.
Then again, he’d had his first full night’s sleep in years (albeit interrupted by some great head and an even better fuck), so maybe he hadn’t been on his game.
And he hadn’t yet met Lottie and cottoned on to what he might be missing.
No, what he could earn.
No.
What he deserved.
“Dude,” Lottie said as she wandered back into the open-plan space, “next time I revamp something at my house, you’re decorating it.”
“Woman named Bobbi did it,” he told her, and watched her as he did.
“Another ex?” she asked, entirely unconcerned, and coming to stand at the corner of the island next to him.
“A woman in a furniture store who’d just registered for her wedding. Gave her a clean slate.” He tipped his head to the space. “She filled it.”
“First, I’m in fits of glee you know what registering is,” she began. “Second, you probably made her year, and since she was getting married, that says something.”
Through his smile he replied, “First, I have three married sisters. I know what seating charts and cake tastings are too.”
She smiled back at him, huge.
“Second, Josh, Bobbi’s husband, thanked me at the wedding, seein’ as she took care of my place, she wouldn’t feel the need to do theirs all in one go.”
“The gift of your all-around awesomeness just keeps on giving,” she returned.
At that, he bent and pressed a kiss to her mouth.
Then he went to his mail.
Flipping through it, he asked, “You down with me getting online for a few minutes so I can pay some bills?”
“I’ve got until next Tuesday,” she murmured, drifting toward the living room area.
When Smithie heard about her meltdown (this he got from Jet), he’d called Lottie to tell her he didn’t want to see her until her first set next Tuesday.
Mo had to go in the next day, but he figured Hawk wouldn’t put him on an assignment that would jam up his weekend because Hawk didn’t do that shit. He’d been on duty twenty-four seven for a week. Hawk would give him his weekend or if he didn’t, he’d lay light duty on him.
Next week, though, Mo would be fair game.
Which, with Lottie in his life, would suck.
But they had that day, all of it. And they’d gotten the worst part out of the way, going to see Mitch and Slim at the station after they’d had breakfast and showered.
Now it was just Mo and his girl.
“Gonna grab my laptop,” he said to Lottie, watching her stretch out on his couch, her eyes to his view. “Want a drink?”
“No, Mo. I’m good.”
He got his laptop from his room, brought it to the island and booted it up as he ripped open envelopes.
“So, sisters, mom, registries, cake tastings, nieces and nephews,” she started, and Mo again looked at her to see her gaze still aimed at his view. “What about your dad?”
Shit, fuck.
He didn’t want to get into that now.
Or ever.
“Can we talk about him later?”
She turned from the view to him. “We can talk about him whenever you want, honey. Though I have a feeling it won’t be any easier then.”
She was probably right about that.
“Think I mentioned he was a dick,” he noted.
“You did,” she confirmed.
“Those weddings my sisters had?”
She nodded.
“They part paid for them. Their future husbands pitched in. Mom pitched in and she did it a lot. Dad, not so much. That was his thing. Being around and being useless.”
Also being a dick.
“Was he invited?” she asked quietly.
Mo nodded. “To one. Signe’s a good girl. Oldest. Responsible. Played a big part of takin’ care of us while Mom worked. She thought it was the right thing to do. Invited him. After that, no.”
“Was he…did he behave?—?”
“Like a dick?” he cut her off to ask.
“Yeah.”
“That’s what dicks do, Lottie.”
“Does he drink?” she asked cautiously.
Mo shook his head and turned his attention back to dealing with his mail.
“Teetotaler. Doesn’t touch the stuff. Thinks anyone who does is weak.
Same about drugs, for certain. Detests smokers.
Even has a few things to say about people who drink caffeine.
” He looked back at her. “But didn’t have any problem telling his daughters they needed to lose weight.
Sharing with his son he thinks he’s a piece of shit.
Slapping his wife around until she got shot of him. ”
She pushed up to sitting on his couch, eyes locked on him, whispering, “Mo.”
“Made Signe’s day when he joined her at the back of the church to walk her down the aisle.
Caught his first sight of his beautiful daughter in her wedding gown, told her she looked plump and she should have gone on a diet before the big day.
Added that her dress made her look like she was trying too hard.
Standing up front as an usher, took one look at her walking down the aisle and knew he got his teeth into her. ”
“Oh my God, Mo,” she breathed.