Lots Of Naughty & A Little Nice by Leigh Lennon

Lots Of Naughty & A Little Nice by Leigh Lennon

Author:Leigh Lennon [Lennon, Leigh]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-11-18T16:00:00+00:00


11

Knox

We’ve barely talked since last night, and we didn’t talk much. We only felt, and it was, to date, the most emotional, fast, hard, and deep night of sex we’ve ever had. I needed him to replace the uncertainty of Avery. I needed him to show me that in him, he is my everything. And his need was to be loved unconditionally.

He’s outside, running off the frustration of last night as he was my voice of reason. I wanted to be mad at him, but he’s right, being the calm in my storm.

I remain in our room, in my sanctuary when the doorbell dings several times. Ro must have forgotten his key and locked himself out, as he often does, and because we only have the doorbell in the front part of the house, I hurry down the stairs.

“I’m coming. Keep your jock strap on.” I’m in my boxers and pull back the door to the frigid temperature outside. I rethink my decision about not wrapping myself into a robe, but when my eyes fall on the face of Whitney, my regret is tenfold.

“I’d hold on to my jock strap if I wasn’t about to keel over in shock and hysterics,” she begins.

“Good morning, smart-ass, come in.” Her eyes stay fixed on my body, and I’m up the steps.

“Give me a second. I’ll be back down.”

Her voice carries. “I can understand what my sister sees in you. Along with the boy genius.” I ignore her statement, wrapping myself in a bathrobe, then returning to Avery’s sister. “Fuck, Robin Hood, I didn’t know people still wore those.” She points at my robe.

“Whit, is there a reason you’re blessing me with your presence first thing in the morning?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I was distracted by your body. I mean, you’re old and all, but hell, I didn’t think old men were hot.”

I’m still off, moody, and not ready for the angst of this teenage girl. Certainly not ready for the younger sister of the woman I want to comment on my body. “Okay, moving forward, Whit, what’s up?”

“So my sister is pissed off at the world this morning. She’s implemented family decorating day. So, with that, I thought I’d invite you all over to maybe sway her mood a little. I love decorating the tree but not with a person who could be categorized right now as a mix between Stalin and Hitler.”

Footsteps are heard behind her, and again, I expect to see the azure eyes of my man. But instead, I’m rewarded with the green emeralds of Ave.

She steps over the threshold but doesn’t look my way. “What are you doing here?” Her question isn’t casual. My stare is on Ave, beckoning her to look at me. To give me something—anything. I’m studying her facial features, and her puffy eyes make my heart fall. It looks as if she’s cried herself to sleep.

“Whit, let’s go.” In her demand, no wonder Whitney compared her to two famous dictators.

Whitney ignores her older sister, turning her body to me.



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