Sawyer has always had a taste for the bad girls. The broken. The relationships that don't end well. Being the son and heir of the wealthiest businessman in architecture, his every move is watched. His favorite cologne advertised in the magazine's. S...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I started up the paved driveway, ignoring the deadly glare Sawyer was shooting at me. "You get what you give."
"If you're such a firm believer in that, why don't you let karma handle it?" He asked, following reluctantly.
"Fuck letting karma handle it," I stopped in front of the maroon door. "As far as I'm concerned, I'm karma's good little assistant."
He continued to glare.
"So where's the key?"
"How should I know?"
"You dated--"
"Hooked up." He corrected firmly.
"Fine," I said dramatically. "You hooked up with this chick. If you don't know where it is, where do you think it'd be?"
His eyes darted over to the flower pots. The flowers were obviously fake, they were a horrific sight. I reached into the pot closest to us, felt around in the cheap dirt, and came out with a key. I grinned at his scowl.
"We're going to have a serious talk later." He said.
"This will be fun, I promise. Now grow a pair." I said, twisting the key into the hole. He grumbled under his breath, dragging his feet into the house when I pushed the door open.
I looked around for her bathroom, knowing Sawyer could point me in the direction, but it would ruin the chase. When I found it, no surprise, the whole thing was decorated in purple from top to bottom. There were about three or four shampoo bottles in the shower, I say three or four because the fourth was questionable. They were all girlie, flowery scents. Figures.
I grabbed the strawberry one, passing it over to Sawyer. "Start dumping."
He gave me a questionable look. I'd been getting a lot of those from him tonight. I took the other two bottles, spinning the caps off and holding them over the toilet. It was a slow process, taking up more time than I would have liked. When all of the shampoo had been drained out of the bottles, I grabbed the oil from the duffel bag.
"This is cruel and unusual."
"But not undeserved."
He didn't say anything in response. While I cleaned off all evidence of any spills or smears, he used the toilet brush to wipe out the bowl.
"Where's the bedroom?" I asked.
He visibly shivered, then pointed down the hallway on the right. I hooked the strap of the duffel bag over my shoulder and started toward my next task. Sawyer hesitated in the doorway of the bedroom, watching as I ran my hand over the corner of the bedspread.
"Is this where you got down and dirty?" I asked with a devious smile.
