“And egotistical. So very egotistical.”
“You lie.” His fingers danced over my sides, making me giggle and squirm. “I am humble perfection.”
“No. Don’t tickle me.”
“Admit I’m your reason for being. Admit it!” His arm came around me, pulling me back into him as I tried to escape. “Shit, don’t fall off the chair again. I can’t take any more hits to the head to save you.”
“Stop tickling me, then,” I huffed.
“Tickling you. Please. As if I’d be so immature.” A hand came up and gently pushed my head onto his shoulder and the arm around me tightened. “Shh, quiet time now.”
The warm buzz filling me was ten times better than anything alcohol could ever provide. No, a million times better, because it came with the added bonus of smelling and feeling like Mal Ericson.
“Relax,” he said.
“I’m relaxing.” Stuff happened on the big screen. None of it mattered. My eyes drifted closed as I concentrated on him. Whatever his reasons for being here, there was little chance I’d ever get what I wanted. It was the human condition to always want more. That being said, what I had for the moment was pretty damn good.
CHAPTER TWELVE
People were arguing again when I woke up. Only this time, there was no yelling. Heated whispers passed straight over my head.
“Why is my sister asleep on top of you?” asked Lizzy.
“Because I’m her boyfriend,” Mal answered. “Who are you? Anne didn’t say anything about having a sister.”
“She didn’t?”
“No. And how many people have f**king keys to this apartment, anyway? You forget the sliding bolt for a moment and it’s open city.”
“With Skye gone, just me and Lauren as far as I know.”
“Don’t say that name. She gets upset when you mention it. Her eyes go all sad and it totally bums me out.”
“What, Skye?”
“Yeah,” he growled.
“Fine, fine.” A pause. “You’re kinda hot, aren’t you?”
A disinterested grunt.
“I’m not hitting on you, idiot. She’s my sister and this is my suspicious voice. Don’t I know you from somewhere? Your face is very familiar.”
The fingers connected to the big hand cupping my ass tightened. What it was doing there, I had no idea. But did I like it? Yes. Yes I did. I was sleeping on a bed of Mal. Talk about heavenly. I couldn’t even remember falling asleep. Obviously, it had happened sometime during the gory horror movie because we were still on the velvet couch in the living room. My sister was here so it had to be Sunday morning, our day to do our duty and call mom. We always performed this unpleasant task together.
I did not want to move. Not until Wednesday at the very earliest. I was mildly hung over.
But more than that, I didn’t want to get off of Mal.
“What the hell did you do to her? Her lips are all puffy and bruised.”
“Are they?” Mal’s body moved beneath me as he no doubt lifted his head to check out the damage. “Shit. Ah, yeah. She’s a bit of a mess, isn’t she? But how was I to know if she was into biting or not if I didn’t try it out?”
“She’s not,” said Lizzy. “Or at least, I don’t think she is. Anne’s never seemed like the biting type to me. She’s more … restrained.”
“Restrained?” Mal laughed softly. “Yeah. Why don’t you go check out her bed, then tell me how restrained she is.”
Footsteps followed by a gasp. “Fuck me. It’s totaled.”
“My pumpkin’s an animal when she gets going.”
“You call her pumpkin?” My sister’s voice was filled with awe. “Does she actually answer?”
“Well, she pretends to hate it. But secretly, I know she loves it. Her face goes all soft and everything.”
Oh good god, enough. I’d basically raised this girl; she didn’t need to hear this sort of shit. Any authority I’d once had would be dust. I cracked open an eyelid. “Quiet, Mal.”
“I am your servant in all things.”
“What time is it?” I asked as a yawn almost cracked my jaw in two.
“Mal? Did she call you Mal?” asked Lizzy, coming up close beside us. My sister and I didn’t look much alike. Her hair was a pretty caramel color as opposed to my carrot. Her features were more delicate than mine, though we both had mom’s strong jawline. “No. Way.”
Ha, this would be fun.
“Strangely enough yes, way,” I said, my voice ever so slightly smug. “Mal, this is my little sister, Lizzy. Lizzy, this is Malcolm Ericson.” My sister hadn’t been quite as big a Stage Dive fan as me. Doubtful it would stop her from fangirling out, however.
As suspected, Lizzy squealed like a loon. Both Mal and I winced. “Oh my god, Anne loves you. She had an entire wall of her bedroom dedicated to you.”
“No!” Shit, how had I not seen this coming? Fear choked me. Someone had to tackle my sister, now. Take her down and lock her in a cupboard. It was absolutely for her own benefit, but mostly mine. I tried to lunge at her, but strong arms held me trapped. “Lizzy. Shut up. Please shut up. He doesn’t need to know that.”
“Tell me more, Lizzy,” demanded Mal. “A whole wall, did you say? That is fascinating. I definitely need to know more.”
“No you don’t.”
“Hush, Anne. I’m listening.”
My arms weren’t long enough to cover Lizzy’s mouth. I had to settle for Mal’s ears. I fought him, but he shook off my hands far too easily, the wily man.
“She used to write your name on her thigh in permanent marker,” my traitorous wench of a sister reported. It was official: Lizzy sucked. There was a good chance I’d soon be an only child if she kept talking. Given mom rarely noticed she had children at all, the loss shouldn’t be too debilitating long-term.
“That’s a lie!” I cried, breaking out into a cold sweat.
“Did she write it on her inner thigh? I bet it she did, the minx.” Mal grabbed my wrists, holding them against his chest. An effective means of stopping me from beating him bloody. “Did she draw little hearts with arrows sticking out of ’em too?”
“I don’t know.” My beloved sister settled into the wingback, crossing her legs. “But she did practice signing her name as Anne Ericson all the time.”