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Ew.
I roll my eyes. “I don’t think so. Hannah doesn’t date players.”
“Who said anything about dating?” he asks benignly.
The girl laboring over his lap pops off his dick to look up at him. “Are you seriously having a conversation about fucking someone else while I am blowing you?”
He looks down at her coolly. “I guess that indicates you’re not doing a very good job, doesn’t it?”
If I were her, I’d punch him right in the dick and storm out of the room, but she’s obviously suited to his brand of evil because she flushes with embarrassment, steals a glance at me, then grips the base of his dick and takes it into her mouth again, apparently willing to try harder to please him.
That thing must be made of literal magic for anyone to put up with him. Shaking my head in vague disbelief, I turn to leave since I’ve delivered my message.
Before I reach the door, he calls, “Parker.”
I pause and look back. “Yeah?”
His blue eyes twinkle with amusement. “I hear you’re a screamer. Shame I don’t remember our encounter.”
“Oh, yeah. You really rocked my world.”
He smirks. “You shouldn’t joke like that with Landon. You know he’s obsessed with you, and a bit of a hothead. I’m too handsome to get punched in the face.”
“He is not,” I mutter. “And you’re gross, just in case no one has ever told you.”
“This is why we’re going to get married someday,” he calls after me as I exit the library and start off down the hall.
I don’t waste an eyeroll since he wouldn’t see it, but ugh, he is the fucking worst.
At least my bladder finally gets some relief. I enjoy the moment of quiet before I head back downstairs, checking my phone and fixing my ugly yellow lipstick in the mirror before I leave the bathroom.
I didn’t turn on the upstairs lights since I didn’t want to draw attention to anyone being up here. A shiver of awareness travels down my spine as I glance down the long, dark hall toward the bedrooms.
During the day, this place is grand. But at night, it’s spooky as hell.
I turn the other way back toward the staircase and gasp as I run into the solid wall of Landon’s chest. My heart stops and my blood freezes in my veins. Cold fear starts at the nape of my neck and slithers down.
“What are you doing? No one’s supposed to be up here.”
“You’re up here,” he points out lazily.
I lick my lips, unconsciously moving a few steps back as he takes a slow step toward me. “Did you follow me?”
He tips his chin up. “What was that song you were singing?”
“What?”
“You were humming something in the bathroom.”
Was I?
I can’t remember. I also can’t think straight with him backing me down the dark hall, so I stop moving. “We have to go back downstairs.”
Not too bothered about what we’re supposed to do, apparently, he holds out a tiny bottle of liquor. “I got you a drink.”
I glance at it. It’s Macallan 12. “I don’t like whisky,” I tell him.
“No?” He shrugs, uncaps it, and throws it back. “More for me, then.”
