She’ssmiling.
Cade pulls free, panting and heavy-lidded. “Please,” he whispers. “Fuck me sane.”
His words hit the air and catch fire. I’m engulfed in flames. Arousal pools low in my groin, my cock straining at the confines of my jeans. I push my hips against him. “Goddamnit, look what you two are doing to me.”
“Let’s get out of here then,” Andrea murmurs, smoothing herpalms down his stomach. Her fingers sneak into the waistband of my jeans and my dick throbs.
Cade groans. “But I need itnow.”
Andrea looks at me. Then the church.
I level a warning glare.
Her brows lift.
They’re gonna send me to an early grave and I’m not ready to discuss my sins with the Lord face to face before getting drop-kicked to hell.
“Absolutely not.”
“Come on, Saint Seba,” Cade whines. “Live a little. Bend me over a pew. Suck me off on the altar. Tie me to a cross. Give Jesus a show?—”
I slap a hand over his mouth. His tongue tickles my palm. I roll my eyes. “I’m not fucking you in achurch.”
He peels my fingers back. “What difference does it make if it's in a church or on the moon? You’re damned regardless because we both have dicks.”
It’s really fucking infuriating when he weaponizes logic like that.
“We’re not having sex outside.”
“But wearehaving sex?” It’s more of a statement. My cheeks heat. I glance at Andrea, who’s biting her lip, a blush tinting her cheeks. She’s… into this.
Damn her. Damn him.
Damn me.
Damn us all.
I tug Cade’s head back, skimming my lips across his throat as I cover Andrea’s wandering hand with my own. We should be taking Cade to a hospital, or at the very least calling his dad. But at the root of it all, I’m selfish. Selfish and greedy and weak when it comes to them.
“Hell better not be as bad as everyone makes it sound.”
Their matching grins seal my fate.
Forty-Three
ANDREA
We shouldn’t be doingthis. I know that. They know that.
Cade is sick.
Seba is working for my father.
And I’m supposed to be in my cage.
But here we are, high-tailing it on a collision course to hell with no breaks.
Connected at the mouth, Seba backs Cade through the maze of boxes cluttering the chapel storage room without ever dropping my hand. It’s a dance: a push-pull of chaos and control. In the flickering light of a dying bulb, the sensual movement of their bodies appears even more illicit.
