Chapter 8

The morning light crept through the crack in the curtains. Davey propped himself up on one elbow and watched her. She stood in front of the mirror pinning her long red curls on top of her head. He watched as the pink t-shirt emblazoned in black with the phrase “Got Pencils?” rode up exposing the perfect globes of her ass. He felt himself harden instantly. He stood, one hand on the button at his waist, the other reaching for her.

She saw him moving across the small space that separated them and smiled, letting her hair fall back around her shoulders in a swirl of flame.

Now behind her, he let his jeans fall to his ankles as he fisted one hand in her silken tresses. Yanking her head back he laved his tongue along the expanse of her exposed throat. “Fuck me Davey,” she breathed throatily.

He needed no second invitation as his aching length slid into her throbbing center. “You make me fucking crazy,” he growled softly into her ear.

Tara braced her hands against the mirror as he drove into her again and again, punishing her body with his. Their eyes met in the reflection of the mirror and both knew in an instant that this would not be the last time their bodies would be joined this way. Strangely for Tara, she was okay with that.

Sara picked up the phone and dialed, waiting impatiently for Tara to answer. “What?” came the soft voice.

“Breakfast.” Sara said making the single word sound as much a question as a command.

“Yeah, give us a few.” Tara returned.

Sara stood on the threshold and waited for the door to open. She was only mildly surprised when the door opened and Tara appeared her hand entwined with Davey’s.

The raven haired woman's gaze dropped pointedly to the joined hands, eyes going back up to meet her friend's turquoise orbs. A single dark brow rose in question as she folded her arms under her chest.

Tara studied her friend. On the surface everything seemed to be the same yet she couldn't shake the feeling there was something off. Then she spotted it, barely visible peeking out from under the collar of her shirt. Reaching out with her free hand she pulled the fabric aside exposing a wicked looking hickey. Letting the shirt snap back into place she held up a single finger. “Not a word!”

Sara shrugged a wicked smile curling the corners of her mouth. She linked arms with her tag team partner as the couple stepped from the room. Her free hand tangled with Ki's as the foursome made their way across the street.

Half way to the diner Tara turned to her friend. “So you gonna be nice?”

The older girl gave the redhead a pointed look. “Am I ever nice?”

Both men wisely kept silent even though the urge to laugh was overwhelming. After all one never knew when the duo was going to stab a person.

Annabelle looked up as the door opened, her eyes darting from one member of the group to the next. Glancing over at the cook she smiled, "Hope they are in a better mood today."

“Honey, if they're not then those boys ain't doing it right,” the grizzled old man told the waitress as he assessed the happy looking couples.

She laughed heartily before going over to serve the foursome that had taken a booth by the window.