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Now…to win the lady’s heart.
Chapter 31
Bullshit!
Excuse my language. My lack of decorum. My lack of restraint. I’m not usually so crass. But watching Kathryn surface from the inside of the fort with obvious signs of being thoroughly kissed slices me right through the chest.
I don’t know what Emrys and Wilder want from this, but dammit. I want Kathryn.
I’ve been trying to deny it from the moment I met her, but it’s grown far too difficult a lie to keep telling myself. She captivates me in ways no one ever has. She challenges me, pushes me to be better, to try harder. She brings me out of my hardened, stiff shell.
Her soft, romantic heart has my baser instincts taking over and makes me want to rage at the world and practically bare my teeth at anyone who could possibly pose a threat to her. To us.
I’m way too old to be fighting over a woman. It’s beneath me. Or…I thought it was.
But Kathryn is the epitome of everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman. She’s confident and calm. She’s brave and reckless in the best ways. She’s got a heart bigger than anything I’ve ever witnessed before. She’s the perfect woman.
Last night a door was opened. Hell, every window and entrance to my heart was thrown wide open. The evening was perfect. And I’m not just talking about the sex–though that was divine in and of itself–I’m talking about the conversation. The laughs. The whole damn thing.
I tried. I truly did. To keep my thoughts and hands to myself. Then the night with all four of us happened. Then the other guys refusing to back down. Then Kathryn…just being Kathryn. She’s tilted my world sideways so quickly, so effortlessly.
It’s too late now. There’s no way I can take it back. No reason I would want to.
This isn’t a game anymore. This is my life. And I want Kathryn in it. Forever.
Chapter 32
Red alert!
Red alert!
That’s now officially fifty texts sent to my sister in a row with the same message still going unread. The fort competition finished hours ago, but apparently the winner will be announced at dinner. Though, I really don’t care about any of it at this point.
I need my sister dammit!
She’s not in her penthouse, or at the beach, or fucking anywhere. Hell, I even checked my parent’s suite, facing an inquisition by a very curious and fidgety mother who has been too busy to poke and prod at my life for way too long in her eyes.
I barely made it out alive.
“Annabelle Bitch-Twat-Cunt Sharpe! Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you?!” I finally catch sight of the little shit tumbling out of a…supply closet with a disheveled Ethan in tow. “What are you, sixteen? Don’t you have an expensive, lavish penthouse to tarnish with your sexcapades?”
The two of them giggle as I cross my arms over my chest and tap my foot impatiently.
“Oh relax. It’s just a bit of fun. You should try it sometime!” She tries and fails at fixing her just-sexed hair as they both walk up to me.
“I have. I did. That’s the problem!” I snark and Ethan snorts. When my gaze narrows at him, he tries his best to wipe away his smirk as I point my finger at him. “No. Don’t even try to act like you don’t know. My sister would die if she wasn’t allowed to spill everything to you about…well…everything. You’re in this now too! Til death do you fuckers part and that includes family!”
Done with my oh so eloquent speech, I grab each of their arms and proceed to tow them to the elevator that leads to their tower. The ride up is silent as I tap my foot erratically, waiting until we’re fully inside the suite before shoving them to the couch and pacing around the coffee table.
The one that conveniently reminds me of our game night that feels so long ago, but was only like…
Damn. It was only two nights ago.
Emrys. Wyatt. Wilder. All four of us together.
My breath catches. My heart stutters. My feet slam to a stop.
Shit, if I knew the only one bed trope worked this well in real life, I’d have done it ages ago. I’ll never be the same now. Even if none of this works out, I may very well start instituting book tropes into my dating life. Damsel in distress. Revenge. Rags to riches. Fake da-
