“I get the bathroom first!” he called out seconds before he disappeared into the spacious bathroom that I’d torn apart earlier.
While he was doing whatever it was that supermodels did, I grabbed an extra blanket from one of the drawers, stole a pillow off the bed, and laid everything out on my new bed—the oversized couch in his bedroom. Thank the fuck it wasn’t a tiny loveseat that would have resulted in the majority of my body hanging over the edge of it. After that was accomplished, I removed my clothes and slipped into a pair of pajama bottoms. Like Micah, I usually slept naked, but I didn’t intend to follow my normal activities with the most gorgeous man alive sleeping less than ten feet away from me.
I didn’t trust myself.
After what seemed like a lifetime, I gave up waiting on him and strode over to the bathroom door. There wasn’t a way for him to escape from that room, but for all I knew, he was in there using more cocaine. That would be my fucking luck—an overdose while in my protective custody. It was more than that, though, and I knew it—I didn’t want anything to happen to the spoiled, beautiful boy.
Without bothering to knock, I jerked the door open and barged inside. He squealed in surprise and hid something behind his back. Fuck. Just as I’d expected. Why hadn’t Samantha mentioned the kid had a drug problem? Better yet, why hadn’t I thought to search him before turning my back on the devious little brat? I knew the answer to that one—he was so damn sexy that I wanted to believe in him. I wanted him to be more than just pretty on the outside. On top of that, like I needed any more reasons, hearing those pouty lips call me Daddy had done something weird to me—not pedophile weird because he was plenty old enough…just weird. No, not weird. It was different.
Deliciously different.
I held out my hand and growled, “Give me the fucking drugs, Jinx.” Every time I called him that, his eyes would narrow into angry slits. It was odd; he didn’t seem to get angry with anyone else, including the entire modeling world and his own father.
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, asshole. I don’t use drugs—never have and never will. And, douchebag, final reminder—my name is Micah.”
His lean, perfectly shaped frame was quivering with fury over being caught with his hand in the cookie jar, AKA cocaine sugarland.
“What are you hiding behind your back, then? I betcha it isn’t floss because this sure to hell isn’t a Pretty Woman remake.” I took a step toward him. “Hand me the drugs or I’ll take them from you, whichever ends up happening doesn’t matter to me.”
With an embarrassed look, he pulled his hand behind his back and shoved some sort of round thing that looked like it was made of soft bristles. I’d never seen anything like it before, but I suspected it wasn’t any type of new street drug, model drug, or millionaire drug. Well, shit. Who looked like a fool now?
“What in the hell is that thing?” I muttered as I pushed his hand away. Whatever he’d been doing with it, I didn’t think I wanted it shoved in my face…or maybe I did. After just one tiny whiff, I knew the mystery item contained his unique scent.
“Get out,” he hissed. His cheeks burned red.
“Nope,” I answered as I made myself comfortable and leaned against the door frame. “I’m going nowhere until you tell me what that crazy-looking thing is and what you do with it.”
“It’s none of your business.” He looked me over with a haughty sneer. “I doubt you’ll ever need it.”
Well, he’d tried for a haughty look, but it looked more like a puppy that had just gotten a toy taken away.
I remained leaning against the doorframe and let uncomfortable minutes tick by. Finally, he caved, just like I knew he would.
“It’s to exfoliate my lips, okay? Are you happy? Got a smartass comment about it? Come on, hit me with your best shot. I’ve heard it all before. You don’t have the power to hurt me.”
The look on his face told a different story. It was as if everyone had the power to hurt him. “Why does one exfoliate their lips? I’ve never heard of that and I like to pretend I’m metrosexual.”
With an eye roll, he answered, “It gets the dead skin off your lips. Plumps them up and makes them a darker shade of red.” Turning away, he muttered, “Everybody knows to exfoliate their lips.”
I’d never heard of it. Ever. I’d been married for a few years and never once saw my wife exfoliate her lips. Ari didn’t do it either. I looked at his lips. Whatever the fuck it was…it was working. I paused and thought about simply walking out of the bathroom and leaving him with it, but something stopped my feet from moving and made my mouth work instead. “Well…it’s working. Your lips are damn fine.” With that stupid remark which would probably leave someone like Micah laughing at my flirting attempts, I left him alone.