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Swallowing thickly, I watch as Isaac buttons his shirt with his back to me, like he didn’t just fuck me into oblivion.
“Why are you getting dressed?” I murmur.
He pauses, his shoulders tensing before he relaxes them. Turning, he lets out a soft laugh as his hands drop to his belt. My gaze focuses on it, and I know I’ll never be able to look at it the same.
“I’m going up to bed,” he says as if it’s obvious.
My chest aches. “Why can’t we sleep together? Like we did in Savannah.”
He lets out a long breath, dropping his head as he shakes it. “You know why.”
Because of Roman, is what he means. I’m not stupid. But if Isaac thinks there’s any chance his son didn’t hear us fucking, he’s delusional. In fact, I’m pretty sure he wanted Roman to hear. So, if he knows we fucked, then why does it matter if he knows we sleep together, too?
I chew on my lip, trying to keep the questions I’ve buried deep, at bay. But now with Roman back, and watching Isaac finish the last of his buttons, I can’t help it.
“What are we?” I blurt, inwardly cringing at how immature it sounds. “I mean, what is this? Us?” I wave my hand weakly between us.
Another sigh leaves him as he straightens, rolling his shoulders. “We can’t be anything, sweetheart. Nothing more than this. I’ve told you this already.”
My throat burns and I bat the tears from my cheeks. “But I don’t understand.”
Obviously, I know how bad it would be if news of Preacher Payne fucking his stepdaughter got out. But would it really be that bad? We’re having sex. Regularly. He’s possessive of me and my time, my body, my pleasure. He loves me and I love him. Surely, he knows this can’t go on without one of us getting attached.
My stomach rolls at the thought.
His fingers trail over my cheek softly, wiping away another tear. “This is it, Eve. You, me, sex—” He breaks off and looks away, letting his hand fall to the sheets. His jaw pops and he rolls his neck on his shoulders before standing. “I can’t give you any more than this. You need to wrap your mind around that and lose any foolish dreams of anything more.”
Before I can respond, he heads for the door and leaves, letting it click shut behind him.
Then I’m left alone in my dark, quiet room with nothing but the sounds of nature and the feeling of Isaac’s cum spilling down my thighs, to keep me company.
“Yeah, man, I’m fine,” I sigh, adjusting the collar of my t-shirt. It’s hot in Georgia all the time, but here, in Divinity, it’s fucking stifling.
It probably has more to do with this house and the people inside it than the town itself.
I hate it here.
Kon clears his throat, his raspy voice thick with discomfort. He hates talking on the phone more than he hates anything else. Which is saying something, because the grumpy motherfucker hates everything.
“But you left.”
I roll my eyes just in time to see Isaac make his way down the stairs. My throat burns with irritation and my muscles go taut, but I force my outward appearance to remain the same unaffected mask I always wear.
“I had shit to take care of that couldn’t wait,” I drawl, letting my lip tick up in a smirk when Isaac jolts. He freezes at the base of the steps and stares at me. I kick my legs out, sinking deeper into his beloved chair.
Kon grumbles something in Russian that I’d usually be able to decipher, but I’m too distracted by my prick of a father eyeballing me to care.
On the outside, he’s pristine. His white collared Polo is starched to perfection, his grey slacks ironed within an inch of their existence. His hair is slicked back and his shoes perfectly shiny.
But, just like me, he’s a liar.
If anyone looks close enough, they’ll see how much he’s struggling right now. Lucky for him, no one around here cares enough.
Or maybe they’re just blinded by the façade he’s worked so hard to perfect.
I see it, though.
His left eye is twitching, his jaw is ticking, the veins on his forearms bulging from the force it takes to hold himself back. His usually clean-cut, smooth face is covered in scruff, like mine. But if you know Isaac well, you can see what he hides, even beneath all that.
