“You’re wicked.”
“I know,” she grins wide. “Trust me, I’m your girl. If you ever need an excuse to get out of anything, I know exactly how to do it.”
“Dude, what the fuck are you watching?” Damian questions with a disturbed grunt, cutting off our conversation. “Is this some kind of weird witchy porn?”
“It’s ‘The Witcher,’” Nessa clarifies. “Only the sexiest show to ever hit Netflix. I mean, look at him.”
We all turn to the TV to watch Geralt of Rivia bathing and while Nessa and I instantly start drooling, the boys begin to gag.
Nessa and I keep our eyes trained on the TV, talking shit while the three boys end up outside, shooting hoops. Pizza is delivered, though I have no idea who called for it, most likely Damian, and we all squeeze onto my bed and dig in.
Today is freaking perfect. Well, the reason why we’re all here sucks and every tiny movement has me wanting to murder someone, but having all the people I love in one room chilling out is kinda cool. I can definitely get used to this.
The afternoon flies by and I worry that if Nessa keeps this shit up, by the end of my house arrest, we’ll both be little fatties from eating too much shit and binging shows all day.
When 3 pm comes by, Damian cringes and looks at the boys. “We’ve got a training session scheduled for this afternoon. You guys should really be there. Coach is pissed you’ve missed so much. He’s threatening to bench you for the next game.”
“Bullshit,” Slade says as Blake sits up a little taller. “He can’t do that. Does he know what the fuck has been going on?”
“Yeah, but he thinks you should still be there. He was lenient the first few days but now his patience has run out and his panties are in a twist.”
Blake groans, realizing this could only mean a shitload of drills coming their way as Slade glares at Damian. “My fucking girl just got shot. We were rammed off the fucking bridge and nearly drowned.”
Damian throws his hands up. “Hey. Don’t shoot the messenger. I defended you guys. I’m just telling you what’s up. I couldn’t give a shit if you were there or not, it makes the rest of us look better.”
Slade lets out a frustrated sigh and gets to his feet as he looks at me. “I should go,” he says, clearly not happy about it. “Will you be fine here?”
“Ahh…hello,” Nessa says, waving her arms around. “Am I invisible? I’ll have you know, I’m more than capable of keeping her occupied for a few hours and for the record, I don’t need to get into her pants to do it.” Her gaze swivels to me. “But the offer is there if you want it.”
Blake grunts in disgust and gets up. “I’m out. I can’t hear this shit.”
Slade rolls his eyes and drops down to press his lips against mine. “I’ll keep my phone on me, okay? Anything you need, just call.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Sky.”
“Fine,” I groan. “I’ll call, but I’ll be too busy getting it on with Nessa to even notice.”
Damian growls low in his throat and as my eyes sweep across to him, it’s pretty damn clear he’s imagining me and Nessa getting nasty.
Slade kisses me one more time before stretching out and grabbing Damian by the arm. He gets to his feet and instantly gets a whack to the back of his head. “Keep thinking about my girl naked and I’ll fucking end you,” we hear murmured moments before the two of them step out of my room, leaving me and Nessa to drool over ‘The Witcher.’
Chapter 6
Damian’s Mustang pulls up outside my home and I cringe at how damn loud the stupid thing is. My head shoots up the hallway and I listen out for Shay. It sounds as though she’s sitting in the lounge room, most likely bingeing on ‘The 100.’
Damn. I’ll never get out that way.
I let out a breath and step back into my room, gently closing the door behind me and jamming a few pillows under the blankets on my bed. I grin at my handiwork. I’m too fucking good at this, but now comes the hard part.
I hurry over to my window and slide it open. My leg is still hurting and I intended to walk through the front door, not climb through a damn window, but I think I can do it.
I shove my head out first as Damian watches me from his car. He raises himself out of his car window and gapes at me. “What the fuck are you doing?” he whisper-yells over the yard, trying to be discreet but failing. “You’re going to fuck up your leg.”
“Well if you’re that worried about me, get your ass over here and help, numbnuts.”