13
Anna peeled her forehead from the window and glared at the hand on her shoulder. Heaven forbid she sleep more than five whole minutes.
“We’re here.” Art squinted up at the turrets jutting from both sides of the wall. Guards paced along the parapet, rifles at the ready. “I hope. Or we’re about to get shot.”
Anna punched a code in her phone and the gate groaned open. “Looks like this is the place.”
“When you said a house with private security, I thought you meant a gated community. This actually does make me feel better.”
“Unbunching your panties always does. May I suggest you switch to briefs at some point? Maybe even give boxers a try?”
“No can do. It’s called going commando for a reason.”
Maybe I should try that. Her panties were twisted tighter than fishing line and shoved ri
