BlowingitOff by Lexxie Couper Page A

two were already awake,” he murmured,
making his voice sound sleepy as he ambled into view. From the corner of his
eye, he saw Harvey jerk. He also heard Phoebe hiss in a breath, but kept his
half-lidded gaze on Will. “Did you both shower without me?”
    He stopped at Phoebe’s side, ignoring her stunned
expression. With a lazy grin, he lowered his head and nuzzled the side of her
neck, running his hand up her belly to almost— almost —cup her breast.
“Hmm, you taste good, Masters.”
    “Damon?” Phoebe’s throat vibrated under his lips, and for a
split second the intoxicating scent of her almost made him lose his
concentration. “What are—”
    “What the fuck ?”
    Harvey’s croaked exclamation surprised all of them.
    “You can’t touch her like—!”
    Damon straightened, giving the man a steady look. Harvey
snapped his mouth shut, eyes bulging, face redder than ever. He glared at
Damon, hate burning in his gaze, hotter than any fire Damon had ever seen. Glared
at him with baleful rage before sliding his stare to Will. He curled his lip,
his chest puffing up. “I didn’t realize you city boys did such a thorough job
of… questioning the property owner. We Morpeth guys just investigate the
fire at the actual scene.”
    “Harvey!” Phoebe stiffened, but Damon didn’t take his
attention off the man. Venom glowed in Harvey’s eyes. Venom and something far,
far more primitive.
    Jealousy. Raw, unequivocal jealousy.
    Damon scratched at his stomach again, giving Harvey a
bemused grin. “Sorry, who are you again?”
    “I’m the one doing the real work, being the real hero
while you fucking big-shot city wankers take advantage of a poor distraught
woman in her moment of crisis,” Harvey snarled. And there was no other word for
it—it was a snarl, full of malevolent hate. He leaned forward and
sneered at Damon again. “I’m the man who discovered what caused Phoebe’s fire,
dickhead.”
    “Don’t you mean the one who started it?” Will asked,
his voice low and calm and as cold as ice.
    Harvey’s face turned white. His mouth fell open, his stare
locked on Will’s.
    And then he turned and ran.
    Damon let out a shocked laugh.
    “Ah fuck,” Will growled. “Now we’re going to have to chase
him down.”

Chapter Seven
     
    Phoebe held the accidental dildo in her hand, staring at the
glass sculpture opposite her. Will and Damon had been gone for two hours.
    Two hours since they’d made love to her, asked her to move
in with them, exposed Harvey Kilgour for the arsonist he was, crash-tackled him
to the ground in front of her home and pinned him there, bucking and screaming
and professing his love for her. Two hours since Damon and Will took turns
holding the thrashing, writhing, love-professing Harvey so they could finish
dressing.
    Two hours since Phoebe’s neighbors witnessed the whole
God-awful, surreal thing, casting her curious glances as they whispered amongst
themselves.
    Two hours since her whole life had changed.
    And the entire time, Phoebe sat in silence on her old,
overstuffed sofa, alternating between gazing at the bed and its rumpled,
messed-up duvet and staring at the dark glass sculpture once called Untitled
Time , then briefly called Oh Fuck, Why Can’t I Get Them Out of My
Fucking Head? and now called Damn It, How Can I Live Without Them?
    The last thing Damon had said to her as they’d stood
side-by-side, watching Will and the Morpeth police sergeant bundle Harvey into
the back of the squad car, rang in her ears even now. “Don’t say no, Masters.”
    He and Will had walked back to their own car then—still
parked outside her burnt-out studio—and followed the sergeant to the Morpeth
police station where, presumably, Harvey would be charged with arson.
    Two hours ago. Did it take that long to ensure a man be
charged with a crime?
    The pit of her belly rolled and she let out a sigh. Once
again, when she should have been freaking out about one thing, she was worried
about