last thought was to get a tetanus shot.
Chapter Five
Late Sunday afternoon, Summer tried but failed to squelch the blush creeping up her face when the hired car stopped outside her dilapidated apartment building. At least the structure didn’t have a butcher shop or a deli on the ground floor. Hell, the damn limo probably cost more than the entire shithole.
Max grabbed her hand and lightly kissed her palm. “You’re not thinking about backing out on us, are you?”
She should. It would be the sensible thing to do, but she was apparently short on sensible. Gosh darn, she’d allowed them to fuck her on an office desk. “I’m not backin’ out, but you have to give me some space.”
“Just tell us to back off, and we will,” said Max.
Summer didn’t believe it for a second but couldn’t call forth the drive to argue the point. She was running on little sleep, which she was used to, but her whole system was unbalanced, her normal rhythm disturbed with too much sex, too much bubbly, too much rich food, too much male.
Max helped her out of the car, and she led them up the chipped brick steps and into the lobby with its peeling green paint and faint Salvation Army-like smell.
“You don’t have a secured front door?” asked Logan.
She had to smile at the innocence of the question. “No. There are people in New York who can’t afford housing with heat, much less security for the whole buildin’.”
Summer dreaded witnessing the shock on their faces when she invited them into her actual living space—God, they’d probably hightail it back to their expensive apartments, leaving her behind in their dust. But a one-bedroom apartment wasn’t easy to find in New York, and she was lucky her neighbors were decent, elderly people who were sawing logs when she came home early in the morning. She subleased from Mrs. Winters and considered herself immensely fortunate to have a sweet old lady for a landlord.
The brothers stopped at the elevators, but she kept on walking and took the stairs.
“Does the elevator even work?” asked Max.
“Sometimes, fifty-fifty at best. Lucky for you two out-of-shape studs, it’s only three short flights up.”
“I think she needs a spanking, bro.” Max’s hand landed firmly on her ass.
She yelped, more because he’d touched her so intimately in a public place than because of pain.
“Fine with me,” replied Logan. “I know it’ll blush a pretty pink.”
Her insides turned over. Why did that statement turned her on? Did she have a hidden submissive somewhere deep inside her? She was amazed at how comfortable she was with them, as if having sex with two men was the most natural thing in the world. “Behave, you two. You’ll give the old folks a heart attack with such talk.”
When they reached her floor, she fished around in her purse for her keys.
“There she is.”
Summer turned to find Mrs. Winters pointing a gnarly, arthritic finger at her.
Summer rushed to her landlady, who stood in the barely lit hallway, flanked by two men dressed in dark suits.
“Mrs. Winters, is there a problem? Are you all right?”
“Oh, honey, I’m fine. These detectives are looking for you.”
Detectives?
“Are you Summer Heat?” asked the taller one on the left.
She was surprised when Max and Logan took up warrior stances on each side of her, causing one of the suits to raise a curious brow.
“Yes, I’m Summer Heat.”
“We’d like you to come down to the precinct and answer a few questions,” the short detective said.
Confusion slid across her skin as a thousand questions of her own rushed through her head. “May I inquire as to what this is about?”
“It would be better if we talked downtown,” said Shorty.
“For you, maybe, but not for me.” She didn’t intimidate easily. There was no way she’d make this easy for them if they couldn’t be polite and answer a simple question.
“Bates,” said Max. “As Miss Heat’s attorney, I advise her not
Chapter Five
Late Sunday afternoon, Summer tried but failed to squelch the blush creeping up her face when the hired car stopped outside her dilapidated apartment building. At least the structure didn’t have a butcher shop or a deli on the ground floor. Hell, the damn limo probably cost more than the entire shithole.
Max grabbed her hand and lightly kissed her palm. “You’re not thinking about backing out on us, are you?”
She should. It would be the sensible thing to do, but she was apparently short on sensible. Gosh darn, she’d allowed them to fuck her on an office desk. “I’m not backin’ out, but you have to give me some space.”
“Just tell us to back off, and we will,” said Max.
Summer didn’t believe it for a second but couldn’t call forth the drive to argue the point. She was running on little sleep, which she was used to, but her whole system was unbalanced, her normal rhythm disturbed with too much sex, too much bubbly, too much rich food, too much male.
Max helped her out of the car, and she led them up the chipped brick steps and into the lobby with its peeling green paint and faint Salvation Army-like smell.
“You don’t have a secured front door?” asked Logan.
She had to smile at the innocence of the question. “No. There are people in New York who can’t afford housing with heat, much less security for the whole buildin’.”
Summer dreaded witnessing the shock on their faces when she invited them into her actual living space—God, they’d probably hightail it back to their expensive apartments, leaving her behind in their dust. But a one-bedroom apartment wasn’t easy to find in New York, and she was lucky her neighbors were decent, elderly people who were sawing logs when she came home early in the morning. She subleased from Mrs. Winters and considered herself immensely fortunate to have a sweet old lady for a landlord.
The brothers stopped at the elevators, but she kept on walking and took the stairs.
“Does the elevator even work?” asked Max.
“Sometimes, fifty-fifty at best. Lucky for you two out-of-shape studs, it’s only three short flights up.”
“I think she needs a spanking, bro.” Max’s hand landed firmly on her ass.
She yelped, more because he’d touched her so intimately in a public place than because of pain.
“Fine with me,” replied Logan. “I know it’ll blush a pretty pink.”
Her insides turned over. Why did that statement turned her on? Did she have a hidden submissive somewhere deep inside her? She was amazed at how comfortable she was with them, as if having sex with two men was the most natural thing in the world. “Behave, you two. You’ll give the old folks a heart attack with such talk.”
When they reached her floor, she fished around in her purse for her keys.
“There she is.”
Summer turned to find Mrs. Winters pointing a gnarly, arthritic finger at her.
Summer rushed to her landlady, who stood in the barely lit hallway, flanked by two men dressed in dark suits.
“Mrs. Winters, is there a problem? Are you all right?”
“Oh, honey, I’m fine. These detectives are looking for you.”
Detectives?
“Are you Summer Heat?” asked the taller one on the left.
She was surprised when Max and Logan took up warrior stances on each side of her, causing one of the suits to raise a curious brow.
“Yes, I’m Summer Heat.”
“We’d like you to come down to the precinct and answer a few questions,” the short detective said.
Confusion slid across her skin as a thousand questions of her own rushed through her head. “May I inquire as to what this is about?”
“It would be better if we talked downtown,” said Shorty.
“For you, maybe, but not for me.” She didn’t intimidate easily. There was no way she’d make this easy for them if they couldn’t be polite and answer a simple question.
“Bates,” said Max. “As Miss Heat’s attorney, I advise her not
Similar Books
