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“It’s a weird Thanksgiving all over,” Riot retorts as he offers a hand to Ro. “Shall we?”
“I could eat.” She straightens to her feet.
He tucks her under his arm and the three of them file out of the room after the rest of the group. The arrival of the others definitely lifted the mood. Laughter echoes through the house.
“Kelsey is the band manager for L.A. Riot,” Rogue explains. “And a close friend. They went to high school together.”
“Oh.” Is that why he’s worried? He thinks Ro won’t be okay with how close he is with another woman? I can’t imagine how I would feel if the shoe were on the other foot. The first night I met their rowdy group of friends I have to admit I was jealous when Bianca suggested they’d all seen at least one of the twins’ penises. But that was extreme, and both of my closest friends are men. It wouldn’t be fair of me to be awkward about Rogue being friends with a girl, but it would probably depend on the circumstances.
“Let’s talk about you, though.” Rogue’s blue-as-the-sky gaze is filled with worry and fear. “Are you okay? I’m sorry tonight has been such a mess. I’m going to make it up to you.”
I twist in his arms. Take his face in my hands. I’m the one who should be apologizing. It’s my brother who is the monster that is making their life hell.
I’ll tell him the truth soon. Once I have what I need from Alec. When I know I can keep Adira safe. Keep Rogue from doing something he’ll regret. His heart is too big to give in to the kind of violence Alec would understand. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
“Even with the media? And Hawthorne? And Rebel’s trust issues?” He sounds hopeful though he lays out a very good case of why we shouldn’t be together.
But love doesn’t care about any of that. Love will find a way. We found our way to each other. He found a way to help me out of my masks. I’ll find a way to deal with the things standing in our way.
“I…really care about you.” I wrap my hands around his neck. “So much.”
“Baby.” He breathes the word like it’s so much more than a pet name. Like his whole heart is in it. His lips seek mine like a homing missile. They press and rub and nibble until I open to him. Then he devours. Leaves me breathless. Slowly the kiss softens, lingers. Pulls my heart into my throat as though he could steal it from my body.
When he pulls back my head swims. My fingertips cling to his biceps.
“We should join the others.” His breath is warm on my cheek. His lips warmer still.
My phone vibrates again, reminding me I have yet to check it since we arrived at the house. “I’d like to use the bathroom. Wash up. I remember the way.”
“Glad you remember your way to my bed,” he murmurs in my ear as we leave the living space. “You’ll be finding your way there later.”
He smacks my ass playfully and it makes me gasp.
“Of course.” I veer off toward the bedrooms as he heads into the dining room to join the others. I sink my fingers into my pocket and pull out my device. The screen lights up.
T-Swift: You Good?
Me: Rough evening.
T-Swift: You want to tell him.
Me: So much. But we can’t. Too much at risk.
T-Swift: Stay the course. Tonight proved your brother is desperate.
That might be true. It certainly seems like it. Which makes me even more worried for Adira.
Chapter Thirteen
Rogue
We’ve settled in around the fireplace with blankets and booze to warm our spirits while we trade shit talk and camaraderie and laughs. Because if you don’t have a sense of humor about the kind of crap-tastic baloney that has happened with Alec Hawthorne you’re going to be fucked. Seriously. Depression. Anxiety. Paranoia. And that’s just to start.
I squeeze Ivy around the waist. She’s perched on my lap, a blanket spread over us both. My hand is plastered to her thigh under her dress, my fingers resting so close to her panties. I’m aware that they’re there in the same way she is. Every now and then she’ll glance at me with heat soaked eyes, but neither of us makes a move.
There are too many people. Family. Friends. It would be awkward to give into temptation. Even though I can smell her musk. Even though every now and then she breathes like she might die if I don’t slip my fingertips a little higher. Touch her more intimately.
Not touching her comes with its own rewards though. Anticipation. Frustration. Sometimes the best things in life are hard-fought and won.
