Wicked Company

Chapter Twenty-Three

~ Daniella's POV ~

My eyes shot open and body snapped upright, the loud clank of a wrench hitting the cement of the shop floor echoing through the building. I blinked rapidly, taking in my whereabouts and wincing when I realized I was in a bed - Tucker's bed.

The bed I'd fucked him in.

Oh, holy fuck.

I scrubbed a hand down my face, groaning as I let my body fall back to the pillows dramatically.

So, so many lines crossed. What the fuck.

I flipped over, burying my face in the pillow, and screamed. Letting my frustration out, I huffed, but on my inhale, I caught his lingering scent and felt my body relax from its tensed state.

Oh, you horny bitch. Get ahold of yourself.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" I grumbled rhetorically into the feathered pillow beneath my face.

"I don't think you want that list."

Shocked at the voice appearing behind me, I lifted my face from its pillowed burial. Standing shirtless in the doorway with a humored smirk on his face, Tucker kicked one leg over the other, seeming completely relaxed. One hand was held behind his back, the other a poor cover of the smile on his lips.

"I hate you."

"Fully aware, Barbie. You good?"

"No."

"Oh, good, okay. Just wanted to ask. Because, you know, you're screaming like a psychopath back here."

"Fuck you. Why are you talking so goddamn much? It's too early for a whole ass fucking conversation." Groaning, I used every ounce of effort to lift a hand and flip him off, then smashed my face back against the comfortable pillow below.

He chuckled, entirely unfazed. "Why did I know you'd be like this in the morning?"

Exasperated, I flailed around in an immature temper tantrum, eventually landing on my back and glaring over to the annoying man in the doorway.

"Why are you still talking?"

Kicking away from the doorframe, he pulled a steaming mug from behind his back and stepped over to me. The scent of coffee hit my nose like a two-ton brick, my mouth immediately salivating and body humming for the flow of caffeine the cup held.

I grabbed for it, but he lifted it just out of my reach, wiggling a finger back and forth as though I was a child. "Tell me something first."

I growled, narrowing my eyes so aggressively that he was nothing more than a blurred silhouette of himself before me. "What the fuck do you want to know? What ways I'm going to murder you if you don't give me that? How quickly I'll rip your fucking balls off?"

"No, of course not. I already knew you were violent and obnoxious, Barbie. Tell me something else. What do you do? How do you constantly have the time to be here, yet have money at the ready for this rebuild to be done? Family money? Lottery?" He dropped his voice lower, teasing. "Are you a sugar baby? You like to fuck old men?"