Silence.

Seriously fucking speechless. He stands confidently, waiting for a reply as I muster up enough brain cells to cough up the horse stuck in my throat.

“Are you seriously suggesting I join you?” My eyes are about as wide as a bus and if I didn’t have this absurd mask on, I’d be in his face so fast. I bet he smells good. I bet he smells like—No!

“You might be into it.” He shrugs, remaining as unaffected as a pimp at Sunday Mass. “For all I know, you like to get fingered to Mozart while planning how tragically boring your week will be. I won’t kink shame, not my business. Full disclosure, I occasionally like to find the ugliest girl in the club and face fuck her in the bathroom. Makes her feel good about herself, and I—a couple times a year—feel like a decent person. I’m not above my kinks. Or charity, apparently.” His eyes drop to my chest, travel the length of my body to my toes, then back to meet my leering gaze. “Hey, maybe one day that can be you in the bathroom.”

I’m offended to a degree I never thought possible. I clear my throat, the horse galloping his way back into my esophagus. “You’re seriously demented, you know that?”

“You have no idea, Grimm.”

“I am not the Thing!” I shout, stomping my foot.

“Tell that to the shit on your face.” Aleck raises his eyebrows, nodding his head toward me. “Now, unless you’re going to clean yourself up, put on something that doesn’t resemble a potato sack, and come back out here with a better attitude and a craving for swallowing dick, scram.”

I quietly seethe in my spot, processing the words he’s just said. This man isn’t only high maintenance, he’s the damn Devil.

You want to play, let’s play.

Turning on my heel, I whip around. The smug smirk on Aleck’s playboy face, the last thing I see before I grace him with my back.

“By the way,” I shout over my shoulder. “I kicked all your shit out of the bigger room. You’ve moved down the hall, Princess.”

“Son of a bitch!” I hear him hiss before I slam my door shut and lock it.

Game on, Aleck Fox. Game on.

FOUR

ALECK

Feeling like my body is about to dry up, turn to dust, and blow across the room, I peek one eye open, then squeeze both of my eyes shut to block out the brightness pouring through the window not three feet from my bed.

Mental note: Close the goddamn curtain before you go to sleep, dumbass.

Fuck, I’m thirsty.

I smack my lips together, feeling the need to drink the Pacific Ocean amount of water, and peel my eyes open again. Staring at a ceiling that’s not my own, I feel around for the nightstand, finding my phone—eight in the morning. If this were a normal day, in a normal situation, I would already be up, hungover or not, ready for my morning run.