She smiled. Whatever had come before, she wanted him as only hers from then on.
Sliding her foot forward, she was about to touch the denim of his jeans with her toe when he turned and left the room. It took her a minute to realize that his next stop would be the club.
Shyla got with it and leaped off the bed to hurry after him, slowing at the sight of the mess of the foyer. Keeping her distance, she relaxed against the corner between foyer and hallway.
“You know,” she said, drawing his attention around from where he was waiting for the elevator. “If I’m going to be a McDade woman, you’ll need to teach me how to protect you from other women.”
“Fighting?” he said, sauntering over and planting a forearm on the angle of the corner high above her. “Baby, you’ll never have to.”
“All. Only.”
The elevator opened and he ducked to kiss her hairline. “Behave yourself ‘til I get back,” he said and headed into the elevator.
“Implying I can be naughty when you return,” she called out just as the elevator doors started to close.
He winked and then was gone.
Breathing out, Shyla scanned the mess on the floor. She had her work cut out, but the evidence of their passion didn’t make her sorry. Every second she spent cleaning up after them would be a reminder of what they’d done. With a grin on her face, she pushed off the wall. It was going to be a night well spent.
Score’s bedroom door was open the following morning. Walking past it without going in was torture. The temptation alone warmed her, which gave her a better appreciation of his rules.
Wondering about how she’d ever get any work done after they did have sex, Shyla came up with question after question. How would they tell Beeks and Fish? Would they share a bedroom or keep their separate spaces?
Two of three of her men were present. Fish’s waffles were cooking; she figured he’d want juice too. She poured some for him and took it to where he was seated at the kitchen island.
“Do you have any tattoos?” he asked her, taking the glass.
“No.”
Twisting around in his stool, he looked to Beeks who was, as always for that time of day, working on the dining table. “You got any Beeks?”
“Yeah, a big shiny one that says ‘Kiss My Ass’, want to see it?”
“Yeah, I do,” Fish said, leaping off his stool.
Shyla laid a hand on his arm while Beeks glared over the top of his glasses. “I think he was kidding, honey.”
“Oh,” Fish said, sinking back onto his stool and then shrugging off his disappointment to show her his forearm tattoo. “You like mine?”
“It’s beautiful, honey. I’ve seen it before.”
“Got it in prison, but I want another one.” She returned to her waffles and was just opening the press when Score came around the end of the hallway wall. “Hey, boss!”
Score crossed to his stool, the one nearest the window, ignoring Fish who turned his stool in time with his boss’s progress. Shyla went to the coffee machine to pour coffee for Score as she did every day. Just like any other day, nothing different, any other day, boring, normal day. Though she repeated the statements to herself, her hormones weren’t paying much attention.
“I’ve got some stuff for you to read, Score,” Beeks said. “Let me find it.”
Retrieving his phone from his pocket, he hunched over it as he did every morning.
“Hey, boss,” Fish said. “Don’t the McDade’s have like a symbol or something? What’s their symbol?”
“The stag,” Score mumbled.
“Yeah! That’s it,” Fish exclaimed, slapping the edge of the island. “Is that the tattoo on your back?”
Shyla carried Score’s coffee around to him. “No, that’s a phoenix,” she said and put the cup down. She straightened up again only to note that all of the men were looking at her. “What?”
“How do you know what’s on Score’s back?” Fish asked.
While her friend’s question was innocent, Score’s interest was more probing. “Yeah, Miss Bellamy, how do you know that?”
“I… I don’t know. We live together, I guess I saw it in passing.”
Fish laughed and leaned over to hit the counter by Score. “Maybe she’s perving on you in the shower, boss.”
If instinct was in charge, she’d press her palms to her warm face and ask if they could turn up the AC. Hearing Fish guffaw was easier than feeling Score watching her. Now he probably felt violated and assumed she crept into his room to slobber on him while he slept.
“How did you see it?” she asked, going around to put the waffles on the plate. “You perving on him too?”
Fish’s smile dropped. “No. No, Shy. I saw it in the gym, man, I never, I wouldn’t…”
The panic in his voice made her wary. Fish always seemed so easy and relaxed around Score, and he hadn’t minded implicating her. Maybe implying a male would violate a McDade was different to one being admired by a female.
“Quit your jabbering,” Beeks said. “He doesn’t give a shit about either of you gawking.”
Beeks wasn’t even looking, but seemed to be right. Score was done paying attention and was reading his phone again. Fish sort of relaxed and didn’t even comment when she started round the island to serve his waffles to Score.
“Does every McDade have a stag tattoo?” she asked without really caring who answered.
“Those who swear lifetime allegiance,” Fish said. “That’s what I heard.”
“Where is yours, Score?” she asked, licking cream from her fingers. “What does it look like?”
Pulling down the neck of his tee-shirt, he showed her the black ink just beneath his collarbone on the left side of his chest. The silhouette of
