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My fists clench, but I hide them behind my back. “I can ask if you can join in, if that’s why you care, or why you watch them from across the room every chance you get. Waiting to be seen, are we?”
“Oh, honey.” Her smile surprises me, but I don’t show it. “I’ve been seen, and clearly you’ve had them.”
This time, my eyes narrow. “Clearly I have.”
She damn near giggles, creeping closer.
“But have you had him alone?” She blocks the doorway, her head tipped to the side, her tone low and illicit. “Do you know what makes him tick, what he likes... how he likes it?” Another laugh, and then a whispered, “No, I don’t think you do.”
She steps around me, spreads her hands out on the beam in front of her, staring down at the two boys waiting for me just below. “Have fun, Jameson.” Her eyes cut over her shoulder, locking onto mine. “I can’t wait to watch this blow up in your face. And it will.”
I frown at her, but she doesn’t see it.
She’s stuck on the little sports car below.
Her words spin in my head as I slip out the front door and make my way to the curb, where Beretta stands beside the open door.
“Hurry, he’s going to need us,” he says, jerking his head for me to climb in the back.
I do, but don’t bother asking where he is.
All I know is ‘he’... isn’t here.
We started at Beretta’s, but when Ransom called them to say he would be longer than planned, we left for my house.
The boys moved Monti’s video game console into my room and have been playing an obnoxious shooting game for the last half hour while I finish up homework for my English class.
The boys are as lost in their online world as I am in modern-day literature so we don’t hear him walk in.
We don’t realize he’s here until my bedroom door is slammed shut.
I jolt, my laptop flipping off the pillow I had it perched on, my head snapping to the right as my legs slip over the edge of the bed.
Ransom leans against the wall directly beside it, his hand reaching over to twist the lock, trapping us inside. His head is dropped against the frame, and he stares down the length of his nose, right at me.
I hardly register the TV being shut off, but I do glance over my shoulder when my shutters are pushed closed, every trace of natural light fading around me. I meet Beretta’s gaze as he draws the curtains shut, and then all that’s left is the glow from my light.
My toes burrow in the carpet at my feet, and then Arsen is in front of me.
His hand glides up my neck, and when I take a deep breath, he nods, stepping back.
I stand and Ransom pushes off the door.
His body is weighted, sagging, but his eyes are wild and raking over mine like he’s famished and only I can satisfy the hunger burning inside him. The need radiating off of him. The desperation thumping in the veins of his neck.
Goose bumps form along my legs as his focus falls to the satin of my lounge shorts, and his teeth sink into his bottom lip.
My ribs constrict, my core muscles clenching.
He tears his shirt from his body, stretching his shoulders out wide, but he quickly falls against the door, and slowly, his friends glide closer.
“Take off her top,” he rasps, and his words are felt between my legs.
My body twitches, but when it’s Beretta’s hands that fall over my shoulders from behind, a grating voice seeps in, hijacking a moment that should be mine. Ours.
Have you had him alone?
Beretta’s fingers float along my sides, to the hem of my shirt, and slowly, he pushes the soft fabric up and over my breasts.
Ransom’s nostrils flare, a mix of anger and envy, a hint of something else.
Do you know what makes him tick?
My top is lifted over my shoulders, and as my hair slips free, spilling over my chest, Ransom’s hands wrap around the buckle of his belt, pushing. Squeezing.
Arsen slips closer and my eyes slide his way.
His smile is small, gentle and he looks to his friend.
Have you had him alone...
My eyes drop to the floor, realization weighing me down.
She has.
Amy.
She’s had Ransom alone, just him and her.
She knows what he likes, how he likes it...
Just him and her.
That’s what she was hinting at, isn’t it?
My skin prickles, frustration I have no business feeling sweeping over me. Bitterness I’ve never felt creeps in, doubt I’ve never experienced right behind it.
I’m hot all over, irritated.
Is this what jealousy feels like?
Heat in your chest, a nasty swirl low in your abdomen, a queasiness that pisses you off?
I jolt when knuckles find my chin, guiding my head up, but I wait until the last absolute second to raise my eyes.
