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She moved, rolling on her back so she could look at me.
"Real—"
I kissed her. And every time that I stopped, and she tried to talk, I kissed her again. Eventually, she huffed out a frustrated breath and gave up, turning over to be the little spoon again.
Smiling, I kissed the shell of her ear.
"Good night, Love."
"Shut up, annoying ass man," she grumbled.
I lowered my mouth to whisper something in her ear. She gasped and tried to turn over again. I wouldn't let her.
"Montréal! What did you mean? What does?—"
"I already said good night, Love. I'm done talking."
And I was.
She mumbled her shit, but she let me hold her. Just like I'd discovered in Texas, having her in my arms led to the best sleep I had had since I was a jit. That was probably why, the next morning, I didn't hear the crazy ass nigga standing above me with a Sig Sauer pointed at my head at first. Instinct would've had me tensing, but I purposely kept my body loose, ready for the opportunity to disarm him and beat his ass.
"We need to talk. And get the fuck away from her," he hissed, looking with disgust at the way Love's naked body was draped over mine beneath the sheet.
I smiled at him as I shook my head and gently squeezed a handful of her plump ass.
"Nah. I ain't the type to let go of what's mine."
His jaw clenched, teeth grinding before he spoke again.
"Yours? Bitch ass nigga, she ain't yours!"
This time I chuckled in his face. His eyes were ice cold, and his arm didn't waver. I could see the military air around him. He might not have any pussy in him, but he had me fucked up.
"Look at her, at us. Does it look like she not my shorty?" I goaded him.
Love moaned as she stirred, her sleep interrupted by this little exchange.
"Real," she murmured drowsily, her eyes still closed.
I pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"Go back to sleep, Love."
I was going to take the gun from this nigga and kill him. The less she saw, the better.
She shook her head. "I don't want sleep."
A silky leg and thigh slid across my hip as she started to lift herself on top of me.
"Hell, nah, Everly!" The man boomed just as there was a knock on the door.
Everything happened quickly, then. Love's eyes flew open, and she screamed, scrambling for the sheet, right before the door burst open and Targen charged in, a wide-eyed Theory on his heels. It was just enough of a distraction for me to grab the man's wrist and twist viciously before spinning the gun away from us as I stood. He tried to fight me, but I hit his ass hard enough to make him rock backwards. Taking advantage of his momentary shock, I wrenched the gun away and immediately knocked him in the head with it.
"Real, nooo!" Love screamed.
But I was beyond what she was saying. I used my leg to sweep him off his feet, then knelt over him. This mothafucka should've pulled the trigger instead of trying to talk. I was on his ass, now. I watched in satisfaction as the skin above his eye split beneath the force of my blows. I was gon' knock this bitch's teeth in, too. He was fighting me back, almost managed to change our positions a couple of times, but my already considerable strength was reinforced by my rage. It wasn't anger for myself, but for the fact that he'd had a gun that close to Love. Any fucking thing could've happened. I lifted my hand again, but it was caught in what felt like a band of steel. Seething, I looked up into Targen's grinning face.
"Don't fuck with me right now, Targen. This asshole?—"