Get Off on the Pain by Victoria Ashley

roll my eyes at. It’s a good thing I’m not a softie or I’d possibly cave in, stay here, and down wine until I can’t breathe. “Where are you going?”
    “Next door.”
    “Why? For what? Oooohhh . . . Maybe I should go too.”
    Once I get to my room, I turn behind me to face her. “I’m taking his jacket back to him. That’s all.” I reach for his jacket and drape it over my shoulder while walking past her. “And I don’t think it’s a good idea that you come. He’s not really a people person, so no. Stay here and wash your mouth out, you lush.”
    “You suck!” She yells after me as I leave her behind.
    “Tell me something I don’t know. At least I’m good at it,” I brag shamelessly.
    Just as I’m about to cut through the grass to walk to the side of his garage, Bailey runs up behind me and shoves my camera in my chest. “Take some more sexy pictures. I want more. You’ve been drinking so he won’t suspect a thing. You’re golden.” She hiccups.
    I let out an amused laugh and attempt to hand my camera back to her but she starts backing away while sucking on her lip ring. I think maybe she’s had a bit too much to drink. “I’m not going in there and asking him to do a damn photo shoot, Bailey. I’m just giving him back his jacket. I’ll be out in like two minutes. Here, I don’t need this you twat.” I hold out my camera again.
    She shakes her head and turns around, walking crooked back toward the front of the house. “I’m not letting you back inside unless you have at least one new photo of that sex god. So ha!” She hiccups a few more times and holds up her finger. “One picture at least.”
    I stand here with a scowl as I watch her disappear, surprised that her crazy ass didn’t fall face first in the grass. I would have paid to see that, and that probably makes me a bad friend.
    Not even five seconds later the door to our house slams shut and I see her grin at me through the window while tilting back the bottle of wine.
    “Damn whore,” I mumble.
    The last thing I want is for him to think I’m here to sneak some more pictures of him, so I throw my camera around my neck and spin it around so that it’s hanging off my back. I’m seriously going to kill Bailey when I get home.
    The side door is unlocked, so I open it and let myself in, passing through the dimly lit garage, but stop to glance at the beautiful car I admired the other day. I really need to remember to ask him the story behind that car someday.
    When I get to the door leading into the house, I stop and knock a few times but he doesn’t answer, so I try a few for more times. Maybe he’s just downstairs and can’t hear me. I turn the knob and see that it is also unlocked, so I open it and let myself inside.
    It’s not like he didn’t ask me to come over, so I’m sure he won’t be too pissed about me barging in.
    I poke my head into a few rooms on the main floor, only to find them all empty before making my way to the basement door where I stop.
    He asked me to stay upstairs last time I was here, but you know what . . . I don’t play by the rules and I’m tired of doing so for him. If he wants his jacket then he can deal with me.
    Screw it . . .
    I walk down the steps and call his name but he still doesn’t answer. I notice a light shining through the bottom of what I believe is the downstairs bathroom, so I throw his jacket on the queen-sized bed and look around me.
    It’s like a mix between a bedroom and a gym. Everything about this room tells me that Memphis is a fighter . . . or was. In the back corner there is a heavy bag, a speed bag, two long, heavy ropes, and some kind of bar hanging from the ceiling that must be for pull-ups. There is more random equipment sitting around, but I really have no idea what they are used for.
    You can tell he was heavy into training and staying fit: sexy and dangerous. Hand in hand they make a lethal weapon, and also one reason I should want to stay away.
    I look down