Page 69 of His Lair

“Um. No, it’s your home. I don’t live there,” she says, her brows drawing down in confusion.

“That’s just a technicality. I’ll see you soon.” I kiss her once more before I walk away, leaving her in the hallway.

“Technicalities matter, Sammie,” she calls out after me.

An hour. That’s how long I’ve been waiting for Lailani to appear in my fucking foyer. She’s finally here. Standing right in front of me. “I want nothing more than to strip you naked and take you to bed,” I tell her as soon as she’s within earshot.

“Then why don’t you?” she asks.

“Because I need to show you something first.” Taking hold of her hand, I lead her into the bedroom and open the empty closet door. I walk inside and stand in the middle.

“Are you… coming out of the closet or something? Why is this empty?” she says.

“No. This is for you. Somewhere for you to put your stuff,” I explain.

She looks around the empty space without saying a single word.

“I’ve also cleaned out the bathroom. Whatever else you need, let me know and I’ll make sure it’s here.”

“I think you’re forgetting something,” she says.

“What?”

“You haven’t actually asked me.”

“Asked you?” I parrot.

“I’m assuming this is you asking me to move in with you, but you haven’t actually asked me anything,” she says.

“Shit. Fuck. Okay. Lailani Miller, soon to be Russo, will you do me the honor of moving in with me?” I grin at her.

“I can’t cook,” she tells me.

“I know.”

“And I’m messy.”

“I know,” I repeat. “I can hire cleaners.”

“What about my job?” she asks.Like I don’t know that’s a loaded question.

“What about it?” I say.

“Are you going to want me to quit?”

“I would never ask you to do anything you don’t want to do, Lailani. Your job is your decision. If you want to keep working and traveling, then I’ll come with you. I’d make a great trophy husband.” I smirk.

“You do look good in a suit.” Lailani smiles up at me. “Okay, I’ll move in on one condition.”

“What’s that?” I ask, ready to reach for my phone and make whatever demands she has happen.

“I want you to get to the part where you strip me naked and take me to bed.” As she says this, her fingers are already unbuttoning her shirt.

“That I can do.” I shove her hand aside and tear her shirt open. Buttons fly across the room as they separate from the fabric. Then, picking her up, I carry her out and throw her down on the bed. “We have so much time to make up for,” I say, grabbing her right foot and untying her boot laces.

“Think you have the stamina to make up for all that time?”

“Is that a challenge? If so, I accept.” I tug her boot off her foot, drop it to the floor, and then reach for the other one to repeat the process.