poking your legs and pulling your hair.”
“Let me rephrase. What the fuck, are you doing in my room?”
“You have quite the potty mouth, Alexia.”
No shit, Sherlock! “You haven’t answered my question.”
He gives me The Brow.
“Don’t give me The Brow . I hate it and it’s way too early. Just go away.”
“Why?”
I open my eyes. “Why what?”
“Why do you hate The Brow ?” He smirks.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“It bugs me and you’re going to have one hell of wrinkle—bump thing, right in between your brows.”
He rubs the space between his brows. Sorry man that’s not going to help.
“So…why are you here?” I ask again and sit up on my elbows.
“I just wanted to see you.”
“Why?”
“I’ve missed your beautiful face, your sarcasm and your potty mouth.”
I roll my tired eyes.
He smiles. “Okay, I didn’t miss the potty, just the mouth.”
I rub my eyes. “What time is it?”
“About five.”
“Five!?” I fall back down, grab my pillow and put it over my face. “Can we do this later, I’ve got a headache,” I mumble through my pillow.
“We haven’t even fucked and already you have a headache.” He laughs, I ignore him. “Serves you right; you’re a bad influence, Ms. Keith.”
“How so?”
“You’ve corrupted my entire house staff.”
“Corrupted?”
“Yes, corrupted.”
“Hey, It was Lester’s idea to play poker, Mary supplied the whiskey and Louie, the cigars. I just showed up.”
“And because you just showed up, Louie invited his crazy cousins who are passed out in my library. Lane got drunk and couldn’t pick me up at the airport. And that forced me to take a cab and stay in the city. Mary is MIA and Lester is too hung-over to make me breakfast.”
“That’s unfortunate, but not my fault. And FYI, your house staff is already corrupted.”
“Maybe. And FYI, it’s weird and rude talking to you while your head is buried underneath your pillow.”
“You’re not going to go away, are you?”
“No. I’ve missed you and we need to talk about things.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you in the kitchen. We can talk while I fix you some breakfast.”
“Go ahead and get dressed, I’ll wait.”
“No, I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
“I’ll wait.”
“I need to pee, Jaxson, and would appreciate if you would kindly remove yourself from my bed and wait down in the kitchen.”
He doesn’t move. I kick at him through the covers. “So…if you”—kick—“don’t mind.” Kick. Kick.
“I don’t mind. Are you afraid I’ll see you in your jammies.”
“No! Please, just leave, I really need to pee.”
“I’m good.”
“For, hell’s sake, Jaxson!” I toss the pillow off my face and fling back the Beeb covers. I get up and march to the bathroom in all my jammie-less glory, and firmly shut the door.
“Fuck, Alexia!”
“Potty mouth!” I yell through the door.
I pee, brush my teeth, and then pull my wild bed–head, cigar-odorous hair into a pony. I reach for my robe that’s hanging by the door but change my mind. This is my room, for now anyway, and I sleep in the buff. And well, he’s already seen the merchandise.
I open the door and again in all my jammie-less glory march to the dresser. I pull out a bra, matching panties and socks then toss them on the bed. Then I pull out a tee and yoga pants and throw them on the bed. I walk to the closet and grab some runners then walk back to the bed.
I stand in front of Jaxson, whose ass hasn’t moved an inch. He stares at me with a cheeky-assed grin that takes up the entire bottom half of his face. I begin to dress, but very slowly.
“Christ, Alexia.”
“This is my space, asshat.”
“Hey, I wasn’t complaining.” He shuffles to the middle of the bed, grabs two pillows, shoves them behind his head and lies back.
“Are you comfy?”
“Very.”
I roll my eyes while I pull up my panties and pull down my bra. “If I’d known you were coming for the show I would
“Let me rephrase. What the fuck, are you doing in my room?”
“You have quite the potty mouth, Alexia.”
No shit, Sherlock! “You haven’t answered my question.”
He gives me The Brow.
“Don’t give me The Brow . I hate it and it’s way too early. Just go away.”
“Why?”
I open my eyes. “Why what?”
“Why do you hate The Brow ?” He smirks.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“It bugs me and you’re going to have one hell of wrinkle—bump thing, right in between your brows.”
He rubs the space between his brows. Sorry man that’s not going to help.
“So…why are you here?” I ask again and sit up on my elbows.
“I just wanted to see you.”
“Why?”
“I’ve missed your beautiful face, your sarcasm and your potty mouth.”
I roll my tired eyes.
He smiles. “Okay, I didn’t miss the potty, just the mouth.”
I rub my eyes. “What time is it?”
“About five.”
“Five!?” I fall back down, grab my pillow and put it over my face. “Can we do this later, I’ve got a headache,” I mumble through my pillow.
“We haven’t even fucked and already you have a headache.” He laughs, I ignore him. “Serves you right; you’re a bad influence, Ms. Keith.”
“How so?”
“You’ve corrupted my entire house staff.”
“Corrupted?”
“Yes, corrupted.”
“Hey, It was Lester’s idea to play poker, Mary supplied the whiskey and Louie, the cigars. I just showed up.”
“And because you just showed up, Louie invited his crazy cousins who are passed out in my library. Lane got drunk and couldn’t pick me up at the airport. And that forced me to take a cab and stay in the city. Mary is MIA and Lester is too hung-over to make me breakfast.”
“That’s unfortunate, but not my fault. And FYI, your house staff is already corrupted.”
“Maybe. And FYI, it’s weird and rude talking to you while your head is buried underneath your pillow.”
“You’re not going to go away, are you?”
“No. I’ve missed you and we need to talk about things.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you in the kitchen. We can talk while I fix you some breakfast.”
“Go ahead and get dressed, I’ll wait.”
“No, I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
“I’ll wait.”
“I need to pee, Jaxson, and would appreciate if you would kindly remove yourself from my bed and wait down in the kitchen.”
He doesn’t move. I kick at him through the covers. “So…if you”—kick—“don’t mind.” Kick. Kick.
“I don’t mind. Are you afraid I’ll see you in your jammies.”
“No! Please, just leave, I really need to pee.”
“I’m good.”
“For, hell’s sake, Jaxson!” I toss the pillow off my face and fling back the Beeb covers. I get up and march to the bathroom in all my jammie-less glory, and firmly shut the door.
“Fuck, Alexia!”
“Potty mouth!” I yell through the door.
I pee, brush my teeth, and then pull my wild bed–head, cigar-odorous hair into a pony. I reach for my robe that’s hanging by the door but change my mind. This is my room, for now anyway, and I sleep in the buff. And well, he’s already seen the merchandise.
I open the door and again in all my jammie-less glory march to the dresser. I pull out a bra, matching panties and socks then toss them on the bed. Then I pull out a tee and yoga pants and throw them on the bed. I walk to the closet and grab some runners then walk back to the bed.
I stand in front of Jaxson, whose ass hasn’t moved an inch. He stares at me with a cheeky-assed grin that takes up the entire bottom half of his face. I begin to dress, but very slowly.
“Christ, Alexia.”
“This is my space, asshat.”
“Hey, I wasn’t complaining.” He shuffles to the middle of the bed, grabs two pillows, shoves them behind his head and lies back.
“Are you comfy?”
“Very.”
I roll my eyes while I pull up my panties and pull down my bra. “If I’d known you were coming for the show I would
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