“I know,” he says with a sigh. “I knew that girl was bad news the moment I met her. Danford isn’t my favourite person, but I don’t even think he knows he’s chained to the actual devil.”
“Lemmy got it stopped?”
He pauses. Contemplation runs through him for a moment, but he seems to make an internal decision. He says nothing. Just continues to chew. “Yeah. She’s good at that.”
Well, that won’t do.
“She’s beautiful,” I say.
He pauses again, eyes snapping up to my face. “Do you have something you want to ask me?”
I shrug. I already know the answer, so I don’t know why I’m doing this.
He straightens to a stand, crossing his arms in front of that broad chest. God, it’s impossible to focus with that body in my direct line of sight. That long, dark hair, pulled away from his face by his hat…
Maybe I don’t need to know. Maybe it doesn’t matter.
“Go on, then.”
I look at his face instead. “Have you and Lemmy slept together?”
His jaw pulses. For a second, he says nothing, just stares at me. Then he dips his chin and a sting of pain squeezes my heart. “Not since you.”
I suck in a breath, but manage a nod. “It’s okay. I thought so. It was…nothing serious, right? Like, I'm not hurting her by doing this?”
“No,” he answers, his voice calm and clear. “It only happens every so often. Completely unattached. We’re just friends.”
I smile tightly. “Okay.”
“Does that bother you?”
I shrug. “It…isn’t my favourite thing about you.”
He smiles gently, letting out a breath of a laugh and then lazily trudges toward me. He places his hands on my jaw, forcing me to look up at him as he walks into my space.
I pout, because even just thinking about him sleeping with other women, especially someone as intelligent and gorgeous as Lemmy—it sucks.
“What Lemmy and I would do, and what you and I do, they aren’t the same.”
“Okay.”
“And I know we haven’t discussed it, but I’m not sleeping with anyone else while we’re sleeping together. I’ll tell you if that were to ever change.”
“Me neither.”
We just look at each other. Eyes burning into one another. Knowing that our situation is weird and uncharted and we don’t really know what we’re doing.
“You okay?” he asks, thumbs brushing my cheeks.
I nod in his hands, but I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’ll cave inwardly and probably die. “Can we go and see the baby goats now?”
“Kids,” he corrects, leaning down to press a kiss to my mouth. He straightens. “Finish your fucking drive-thru charcuterie first.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
ariana
This isthe best day of my life.
