He washed up and cinched the belt tightly around his waist. He stormed toward the kitchen with his daisy-covered dick pointing the way. “I’m coming!” he shouted.
Vin leaned in the kitchen archway to the living room and entry, a steaming coffee mug lifted to his lips. His eyebrow arched pointedly as his glacial gaze drifted over Chris and paused on his cock. Still sipping, he reached down the side of the entry wall. Vin lifted an umbrella and popped it open toward Chris. “Fire when ready.”
“Fuck off.”
“Pretty sure that’s your department at the moment,” Vin quipped. He closed and lowered the umbrella, giving Chris plenty of excuse to look at the expanse of naked, muscled chest.
“It would have been if you hadn’t interrupted. What the hell was so important that I had to get up at the ass-crack of dawn?”
Vin took another leisurely sip of coffee. “Oh, there’s no question that it’s wood.” He twisted toward the kitchen, hollering through the pass way as he walked away. “How do you take your coffee?”
“Cream, no sugar,” Chris said, following him in.
The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee permeated the air. Chris found himself tracking the nimble twist of Vin’s fingers as he uncapped the cream, the flex of tendons over the back of his hand when he lifted the carton and poured carefully. Metal circled and clicked against stoneware, held in Vin’s grasp.
“What’s that?” Chris asked, his eyes settling on a bright orange makeup bag.
“Gag gifts from your crew. Fuzzy cuffs, lube, condoms.”
“Assholes.”
“Whose?” Vin asked calmly.
Chris chose to ignore the barb.
Vin turned and offered the creamy brew to Chris, handle out, even as he took another sip of his own. Chris took it. He scrubbed his hair absently, not caring if the blond strands stood on end.
“God, this smells good,” Chris murmured. Tasted damn fine too and gave him an excuse to drop Vin’s gaze.
“Mm,” Vin acknowledged.
“You’re a big talker, aren’t you?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Thought so. Listen, I’m not sure about you, but I don’t think that a lot of housewives are ready to take visitors this early in the morning. Think you could let me sleep a little longer next time?” Chris asked.
“You stickin’ with that story?” Vin lifted his chin in the direction of Chris’ groin. “Gotta admire your commitment to the cause.”
“It’s been a good boy, chained up for hours at a time. Thought I’d let it out to roam and pat its head. What the fuck do you care?”
Amusement twinkled in Vin’s eyes. He shrugged a shoulder and quietly continued to sip his coffee.
“Bottomless fucking mug is what you’re holding. Sip, sip, sip. I think you’re hiding shit. Hard to trust a guy who doesn’t talk and hides behind a mug. Spit it out, already. I can see the wheels turning.”
“Your switch always on pissed?” Vin asked.
Chris clamped his jaw.
Vin refilled his mug. He swung the carafe toward Chris in offer.
Black coffee straight up. Figures. “No, thanks.”
Vin reached for a bottle Chris hadn’t noticed, and squirted a healthy dose of chocolate syrup into the cup, swirled the spoon, and resumed sipping.
Chris’ startled laugh spilled forth. Hot, ripped, and deadly-with a sweet tooth? It was like seeing a dog meow.
Vin studied him over the rim of his mug, motionless but for the tip and release of his cup.
He watched Vin too. One thick arm folded across his chest served as a surface for the other elbow. Even in relative repose, Vin’s musculature appeared flexed and taut beneath his tight skin. The barest sprinkle of tiny black curls dusted his pecs and veed downward into a slim trail, lost beneath the edge of his jeans.
Solidly built without an ounce of fat, on a wide-shouldered, thick wristed frame a Valkyrie would be proud of, Vin could kill a man in one lethal, fluid motion. Though he’d never been small compared to most men, he wouldn’t stand a chance against Vin in combat.
Vin propped his ass against the line of cabinets and casually crossed his ankles. “You were right,” he said, finally breaking the silence.
“About?”
“Your mascara smudges.” The amused twinkle had re-entered Vin’s eyes.
“Ah.”
“You look like shit.”
“I had a rough night,” Chris said.
“Looks like some woman jumped you, fucked you all night long, and left her makeup all over your face.”
A wry smile tugged at Chris’ lips. “My bedmates don’t generally wear makeup. It’s not a quality I find attractive.”
Vin shrugged a shoulder again. “I dunno. I think it’s kinda cute.”
Chris stilled. Did he mean women waking up with smeared makeup was cute or Chris smeared with makeup was cute? He mentally chewed on the words, searching Vin’s expression for a tell, but found nothing.
“Good call on the fight yesterday,” Vin said.
“Seemed like a good idea at the time. And it got the stash of oregano out in the open. I just hope the fight didn’t scare off any of the neighbors.”
“It didn’t.”
“How can you be sure? Most people avoid domestic issues, and we raised the roof,” Chris said.
“The two women talking didn’t like me. They sympathized with you even after the kiss.”
Chris felt his cheeks heat. He didn’t think he could stand the tension any longer, so he busied himself finding the bowls they’d unpacked yesterday. Snatching a box of cereal, he tried to convince himself he wanted breakfast more than he wanted Vin.
Vin set down his mug and made to leave. “Typical housewives don’t expect early visitors, but you require more maintenance than a typical housewife. You’re wearing old makeup, but you still look like a guy. By the time you’re done, there will be a knock at the door,” he said, alluding to their earlier conversation.
Chris grinned privately. Being forced to wear a dress, makeup, and tuck his parts emasculated him. Knowing Vin thought he looked like a guy despite that, pleased him.
“Tarp,” Vin called from somewhere down the hall.
“Yeah?”
“Pretty robe.”
Chris looked down at the huge floral imprint on puke green. At some point, his dick had slipped through the front of his boxers and poked its head from the folded material at the center of one gold-toned daisy.
His earlier blush drained away. Had Vin seen? Chris closed his eyes on a groan. Something told him he’d be left to wonder. “Goddamn it! That doesn’t look fucking desperate at all.”
Chapter Three
Vin had been right. Chris had barely slicked on his gloss and straightened his skirt when the doorbell rang. And in the process, he made another discovery. Vin looked ridiculous in a suit and tie. They reached the front door about the same time.
“Lose the coat,” Chris said.
“Office guys wear suits,” Vin argued. His face took a stubborn cast.
“It looks stupid and fake on you. Take it off before I open the door,” Chris ordered in a whisper.
Vin shrugged out of his coat and draped it over the arm holding his briefcase. Chris grabbed it back, shook it gently and folded it back at the shoulders before re-draping it.
“Office guys take care of their shit and know how to hang their suit coats. I thought you were good at this stuff.”
Vin opened the door before Chris could say anymore. The smug look didn’t disappear as they faced the two ladies from the day before and another on the front step.
“Hi! Welcome to the neighborhood. I’m Doreen.” The tall blonde smiled widely at Chris.
“Welcome. I’m Carla. We saw you move in yesterday and had to do the neighborly thing and drop by. Is this a good time? We brought a coffee cake. And oregano,” the second woman sang brightly. “Sounded like you go through a lot of it. I grow mine.” Her red hair glittered in the sunlight with shades unnatural to human coloring.