Eyes that had been heavy-lidded with a love-drunk complacency snapped open. “Tricksy werewolf. ”
“Gonna blame it on my lupine mojo?”
“Pff. Like you have any mojo. ”
The hardness against my thigh and the frenzied heat building in my pants belied my insult, but I stuck to my guns. He smiled and kissed me, grazing my lower lip between his teeth. “I’m not opposed to playing dirty. ”
I quirked my eyebrow at him. “Oh, no? Well if that’s how this game is being scored, I’d like a chance to spike your volley…or, you know, a cooler sports metaphor than volleyball. ”
Desmond laughed but obliged me by sitting up so I could scoot out from under him. Standing in front of the couch so my hips were level with his eyes, I grabbed the hem of my shirt and lifted it up, giving him an eyeful of my brand-new leather corset.
Unfortunately that was also the moment Dominick chose to let himself into my apartment.
“I’m just saying there’s a time and a place…”
“How many times do I have to apologize?” I grumbled from the backseat of Dominick’s Prius. He’d separated Desmond and me for the short drive to Long Island, and my Alvarez brother wasn’t helping things with all his snickering in the front.
“When apologies can cleanse my mind of the image of you straddling my brother—”
“I wasn’t straddling him!”
But Dominick was on a roll and there was no stopping him. “Practically molesting him, half naked, no less. ”
“I was fully clothed,” I snarled.
In the rearview mirror I caught Dominick’s grin, and ever the mature adult woman I was, I stuck my tongue out at him.
“Now, now. I don’t know where that’s been. ”
Desmond laughed so hard he snorted, and only regained his composure long enough to keep me from diving into the front seat to throttle his brother.
“I can tell you a long list of places it may never go again. ” I gave Desmond a pointed glare, but he was unabashed, chuckling like a twelve-year-old watching Porky’s on late-night cable.
We’d driven south through Manhattan since the Queensboro Bridge was the closest exit to Sunnyside and Casa de Alvarez. After a harrowing, white-knuckled, ten-minute drive across the bridge we were on Long Island, but considering there wasn’t much difference between Sunnyside and Hell’s Kitchen, it felt like I was still home. Queen’s Boulevard had the same seedy reputation as my neck of the woods. On some levels those reputations were deserved, but on the flip side even Park Avenue had an underbelly. At least places like Hell’s Kitchen rolled over and showed their unseemly tummy to the world, like a fat cat waiting for a good scratch.
Twenty-four-hour fruit stands with nothing to sell this late in the season adorned every other corner, broken up by Colombian takeout and about a hundred restaurants claiming to have the “best pizza in New York”.
Their claims were served with a grain of salt since New York proper glittered like a festive grand dame across the East River. The Empire State Building was aglow in seasonal red and green, her spindle piercing the dark sky as though it could be popped open like a confetti balloon and release our missing snow.
Dominick navigated up a narrow street lined with a crush of tall, lean houses stacked side by side. He wove through the maze of parked and idling cars, receiving a few well-placed honks and a one-finger salute from a burly cab driver.
“Puta madre,” Dominick swore, taking a turn onto another one-way, then back in the direction we’d come. It was the first time I’d heard any hint of his Spanish upbringing.
Sunnyside was a mess of cramped one-way streets, making it a frustrating task to get where you wanted to be. I might have a fancy car, but I hated driving inside the urban sprawl. Give me a back-country road and I’ll go for hours, but in the city I get grumpy and angry in the span of minutes.
The car came to a stop in front of a clean white house jammed in a row of nearly identical brown and white homes. The wrought-iron front gate had a wreath hanging on it, and through the front window I could see a dazzling Christmas tree done in hues of blue and silver.
“You guys might as well take the stuff in. I’ll need to circle the block. ”
Sure enough, there was no miracle parking space out front like I always seemed blessed with at home. Desmond and I got out and loaded up with armfuls of gifts.
When we burst through the front door a flash of darkness leaped at us, and Desmond barely had time to drop his packages and catch his sister mid-flight. Penny was talking a mile a minute, and it didn’t sound like she was planning to take a break any time soon. I put my gifts down next to Desmond’s and listened to her story.
“…. so I told Becky McNamara she could take her iPod and stuff it because I was going to get the best present ever, way better than a stupid iPod. ” She started dragging parcels into the living room, hauling the front-entrance runner with them, leaving me standing on bare hardwood.
I shucked off my coat and boots, using it as an excuse to check out Desmond’s childhood home. The house was cramped but meticulously organized. Photos in mismatched frames spanning over two decades hung on every flat wall in the house. Everything from the Alvarez’s wedding portrait to the obligatory embarrassing school photos. Desmond and Dominick’s graduation photos were displayed side by side at the bottom of the staircase. Aside from his gel-spiked
hairstyle, Desmond hadn’t changed much. Dominick was the real shocker. His portrait showed him a good twenty pounds heavier with a mane of long, blond hair.