Page 65 of Violent Little Thing

I heard the bones crunch.

Noe snorted out a laugh.

Charleigh stomped down the stairs toward her purse, picked up the gun, and stomped back inside the house.

Her perfect ass jiggled as she stomped.

“She’s in tiny shorts and a tank top in the middle of a Montana winter,” Noe pointed out.

“That she is.” I laughed. “That she is.”

Eighteen

I don’t believe I’m perfect, but I do believe I’m humble and my dick is magic.

—Text from Court to Charleigh

Court

I arrived home four hours later, exhausted and ready to see Charleigh just so I could allow my heart to see that she was perfectly fine.

I unlocked the door with the code then disarmed the alarm, only to relock it the moment the door closed behind me.

The house was sweltering, which was likely why she was able to wear short shorts and a tank top in the middle of winter.

I stopped at the thermostat to see what she had it set to and choked.

“Eighty?” I laughed as I bumped it back down to seventy. “My god, woman.”

Peter, who apparently had heard me, repeated, “My god, woman.”

My lips quirked. “Hey, Peter.”

“Hey, Cookie.”

Cookie?

Nice.

“Good night, Peter.”

“Good night, Cookie.”

I headed to the master bedroom, only to find the bed empty.

Disappointed that she wasn’t where I wanted her, I headed to the shower to wash off my day instead of searching for her.

If she wasn’t in my bed, I would assume that she wanted privacy.

Which fucking sucked for me because I’d wanted to see her. But I wouldn’t invade it like that schmuck Chris Gates did.

I flicked on the light for the bathroom and started dropping my clothes, tossing them all into the corner so I could take them to the dry cleaner later this week.

I didn’t like doing it, so usually I waited until it was absolutely necessary.

Thankfully with only black suits one couldn’t tell that I rewore it two times before washing it.

Naked, I flipped the shower on and waited for it to warm up before stepping inside.