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My gaze flits toward his before returning to Ariah. “She’s our missing link,” I profess as he stands beside me.
“No,” Wes exclaims, causing my attention to snap in his direction. He sighs, turning to walk away.
I’m preparing to argue when he stops in the doorway, peering over his shoulder, and declares, “She’s the gold filling our broken pieces, reminding us that there is beauty in our damaged parts.” Then, he exits the room, leaving me with the weight of his words.
61
ARIAH
“Please tell me you have a copy of the video of Samantha flicking the bean with Mr. Ed’s nut?” Shay pleads.
My lip curls at the mention of Samantha’s name. “Absolutely not. I have no interest in seeing that cunt. Literally.”
Shay groans. “All traces of that video have been scrubbed. There isn’t a site you can find it on. Even the articles about it have disappeared.”
I’m not one for revenge porn, but I can’t say I was upset about Lev leaking it. Samantha gloated that night, taunting me with the news she fucked both of my guys. My jaw tenses at the reminder. It’s what made seeing her on top of Owen harder.
“That’s unfortunate but not surprising. Her slimeball husband is running for president. I can’t imagine having your wife’s face plastered all over the media while they accuse her of bestiality makes for a great campaign ad,” I grumble.
We’ve been sitting in the living room while the guys handle the movers. Wes caught me trying to carry a box of my books upstairs. After taking it away from me, he told me in no uncertain terms that I’d be punished if they found out I was lifting anything heavy. Then he personally escorted me in here, kissed my forehead, and headed for the basement. That was almost two hours ago.
Shay’s been here with me for the last forty-five minutes, and outside of Sebastian’s visit, I haven’t seen any of the guys. I think back to our earlier conversation, and she’s right. I am excited to stay here. I’ve missed them. Seeing them around campus and being on the receiving end of their icy behavior cracked a part of me. I know it will take time to heal.
“Presidential race or not, I wouldn’t want anyone to believe I had a fetish for having sex with animals,” Shay quips, pulling me from my thoughts. Then she stands, absentmindedly brushing the invisible dust from her plum-colored pants before focusing on me. “I’m going to head upstairs and check on how the movers are doing before I head out to visit my family. Are you coming?”
Shaking my head, I lay back. “Nope,” I state, popping the ‘p.’ “This couch is nirvana, and I don’t plan on ever leaving.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Shay chuckles. We chat for another few minutes, then she turns and exits the room.
Exhaling, I try to expel all the bullshit, allowing the stillness to settle me. So much is changing in such a short amount of time. I remember moving here and thinking this was the fresh start my family needed. That notion lasted for the five-minute drive to Edgewood Academy.
I snort, picturing Wes, my broody asshole, attempting to intimidate me when he carried me out of the lunch room. My mood quickly shifts. Fall break ends in three days, which means having to see the sewer rat and not punching her.
“What has your face frowning so hard?”
My eyes snap open to see Owen leaning on the bluish-gray wall.
“I’m trying to remind myself I can’t stab your ex-fiancée,” I mutter, knowing I’m being a brat. The entire engagement was a farce. None of them wanted her. However, that doesn’t change the hurt that reverberated through me each time they chose her over me.
Quirking a brow, Owen moves away from the wall and lifts his shirt, displaying two different chestnut-brown leather knife holsters. “Which one do you want? We can live out my Mickey and Mallory Knox fantasies,” he gleams. Any other time, the beautifully crafted blades would mesmerize me. This time, it’s the sliver of his ink-covered skin enthralling me. More specifically, my name scrawled across his throat.
“When did you. . .” I point to his neck. “Get this?” I murmur, awe-struck by its beauty. Intricately designed angel wings bracket my name written in some form of calligraphy.
“I need you with me always,” he replies. “Plus, it’s a great annoying chick repellent.”
Snorting, I retort, “I don’t know. Some may see it as a challenge.”
Then he raises his shirt further, exposing even more of his chiseled abs as he reveals another knife. “Not if they want to live.”
He says something else, but I’m too busy lost in the vividly-playing images of me licking and nipping my way down Owen’s well-defined chest until he loses control and fills my mouth with his cock. He’d groan, yanking my head back, forcing my mouth to open wider as he slams his cock into the back of my throat until tears trail down my face. Lust pools in my belly, shooting straight to my pussy, and soaking my teal boyshorts.
Now, I want. . . no scratch that, I need to live out that scene more than I need air. It’s been too long since I felt any of them so deep inside, fucking me senseless until even the flicker of an eyelash would require too much work.
“See something you like, Angel?” The smooth tenor of his voice snaps me from my fantasy.
“I don’t know what you’re implying. I was just admiring your knives,” I mutter, but the heat rising in my cheeks screams like a fluorescent beacon, signaling my blatant lie.
Smirking, Owen lowers his shirt, hiding his lickable Adonis belt, and strides into the living room before squatting in front of me. “Oh, but I think you do,” he coaxes, peering into my eyes.
