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It’s just a game, I assure myself. It’s just a big fun game, nothing more.Chapter FourteenSaul“Are you kidding me, Dad?” Fiona squeals when I hand her the ticket to the literary convention, and the plane ticket that will take her there.
The four of us – me, Fiona, Jasper, and gorgeous Sadie – are sitting in the kitchen, the scent of bacon and eggs in the air. Sadie sits at the bar in her bathrobe, as though she doesn’t know better, as though she doesn’t know that just the sight of those thick thighs – thighs that deserve to be covered in our creamy juices twenty-four-fucking-seven – drive me feral.
Fiona glances down at the tickets, her expression shifting.
“There’s only one set,” she murmurs. “Not to sound like the most ungrateful person in the world, but—”
“I didn’t want to go, anyway,” Sadie says quickly, as we discussed.
She stares down at the remains of her meal, and I can tell this leaves a sour taste in her mouth, just as it does in mine.
Just tell her now, a voice urges in my mind.
I would – I swear to God I would – but I remember the way Sadie reacted last night when I told her that’s what I wanted to do.
I remember the fear, the desire to flee that erupted in her eyes.
Whatever happens, I can’t ruin what Sadie and I have.
Even if that means ruining what you and Fiona have? Or what Sadie and Fiona have?
Fuck, this is hard, this is a goddamn minefield.
“Yeah,” I say, picking up my half of the deceit. “I asked her beforehand, just in case.”
“But I want you to go, really,” Sadie says. “I want you to have fun. I—you’re my best friend, Fi. And you always will be.”
Fiona narrows her eyes at Sadie perceptively. She’s looked at me like that countless times over the years, ever since she was a young girl, paying close attention to the world with her budding writer’s eyes.
The crazy thought flashes across my mind that she knows about me and Sadie.
But if that was the case she’d be screaming at us, throwing things, tearing apart the kitchen.
The look passes and she turns to me, smiling. “Well, thank you, Dad,” she beams. “I better go and pack. I swear these tickets were sold out.”
I offer her a casual grin, or what I hope is a casual grin. I have the feeling I might look more like a predator bearing its teeth. “I’ve got my ways,” I tell her.
She hops from the bar and leaves the room, singing to herself as she walks up the stairs. Jasper trailing behind her. Maybe he knows I want to be alone with Sadie.
Sadie and I watch her go, and even stare at the empty doorway for a long while afterward, as though to make sure she’s not going to suddenly return and surprise us with a sneak attack.
Finally, Sadie turns back to me with a shiver. “Did you see that look, Saul? I thought she knew for a second then.”
“Me too,” I admit.
“But she can’t, right?” Sadie goes on. “I mean, if she did, she’d be going berserk. Fi’s a very emotional person. I’ve lived with her for long enough. Heck, what am I saying? You’ve lived with her for long enough to know that.”
“I have, I do,” I agree. “What if she knows and she approves?”
Sadie’s mouth falls open and a disbelieving look comes into her eyes. “Are you serious? Do you really think that’s even a possibility?”
“I don’t know,” I admit gruffly. “I do know that that didn’t feel good, though. At least she’s happy.”
“Um, yeah,” Sadie laughs. “She’s been talking about that convention for a month. I saw that you got her first-class, too. She’s going to be stoked. Fi’s the most outgoing person I’ve ever met. She’ll have made a hundred more writer friends by the time she gets back.”
“Yeah,” I say, nodding.
But we both know we’re just trying to make ourselves feel better, trying to fight off the feeling that what we just did was unforgivable.
I try to push the guilt away and let my feelings for Sadie rise. My possessive certainty for her – my seed – my everything roars at me that this is a good thing.
Because no matter how we got here, I’m going to have Sadie alone in a hotel suite, naked and shivering and begging for my come to shoot into her willing womb.
“Yeah,” I growl again, stalking around the bar and reaching over to touch her face. “Soon it’ll be time for our wager, Sparkplug. And I’ve got a pretty good idea who’s going to win.”
She turns her head toward my hand, nuzzling into it beautifully despite the risk.
It’s true.
I know who’s going to win.
Both of us.
The real question is, who the hell is going to lose?
