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Have her lips always been so full and so tempting?
I can almost hear Evanesce’s voice telling me to kiss her or something. I wonder what something implies. I clear my throat lightly, wishing away the traitorous thoughts swamping my head.
“I like that you don’t sugarcoat words,” I say, smiling into her eyes. “It’s got to be one of your best qualities.”
She blinks at me in disbelief. “That’s odd. You’re one of a few people who actually like how blunt I can be. People usually find it annoying.”
“I’d use the word endearing.”
She barks out a laugh. “What?”
I really love the sound of her laughter… but she doesn’t do it often enough.
Her laughter subsides into a faltering smile as she boldly holds my gaze. She swallows softly as awareness slowly seeps into her chocolate-brown eyes. It’s taking everything in me not to lean forward and claim her shimmering pink lips.
“Friends again?” Tory asks, holding out her hand.
I glance down at her outstretched hand, noting her beautiful, delicate fingers and neatly manicured nails.
Friends…I almost laugh at her choice of words. No friend should be thinking about doing the things that I want to do to her.
At least now I know what she thinks of me.
I take her hand nevertheless, trying not to think much of how perfectly it fits in mine.
I pull my lips up in what I assume is, and what I hope appears a friendly smile.
“Of course. Friends.”
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
“I’m sorry for making y’all wait,” Pocus says, settling into the cozy multi-colored retro couch Abigail had added to the main room during one of her many redecorations of the past three years. The addition had looked odd at first, but the furniture was interesting in its own right. It had quickly become Pocus’s favorite place in the main room. And on lazy days, his favorite thing to do is cuddle cozily with Abigail in the chair while nursing a good glass of scotch or moonshine. This moment made me realize how long it’s been since we had relaxing days. First, it was the saga of the Rugal boy, and now we have to deal with my twin brother.
Pocus leans back on the sofa with a ragged sigh.He looks so tired.
I feel my chest constrict with guilt for how much of his fatigue is my fault. The man is under a lot of pressure from all sides. I haven’t been supportive in the way a VP, let alone a friend, should be.
“You’re all right, Prez?” I ask, searching his face with a concerned frown.
Pocus sighs heavily. “Yeah. Abigail is feeling under the weather. She keeps throwing up all her food and can’t even sit up for one minute without being dizzy. She’s seven months along, but her morning sickness hasn’t gotten better. Grave says it’s normal for some pregnant women to be sick throughout their pregnancy, and we should be grateful for the clear days, but I fucking hate seeing her like that. I feel it’s my fault that she has to endure so much pain.”
“You know that’s not true, Pocus,” I say gently. “Abigail wouldn’t want you thinking that way.”
“I know, man… I know.” Pocus sighs. “I just feel so shitty, you know?”
“I could drop by after the meeting to check in on her, if you don’t mind,” Tory speaks up from her place beside me on the long couch. “I’ll see if I can make some herb tea to help her feel better.”
Pocus smiles his gratitude. “Oh, please do. I’m open to whatever you give her, as long as it makes her feel better.”
I’m a little taken aback by his statement. The level of trust he puts in Victoria is surprising. I realize how much Pocus must respect Victoria’s methods–enough to let her treat his wife.
Pocus turns his attention to Snake, who’s currently immersed in some online game, and clears his thoughts loudly. “Shall we begin?”
“Of course, Prez,” Snake replies promptly, taking a second to put his headphones aside and log out before diving in.
“Thirteen years ago, Rosalinda Cromwell was indeed in Cornwall. However, I wasn’t able to find out why or what she did while she was there. Also, there was nothing to link her to either Gerald or Edward Abner.”
“But there has to be a reason she went to England, don’t you think?” Pocus asks.
