Chapter 32 Neve
THIRTY-TWO
NEVE
She steps into the room with wide eyes, but her expression changes when Faust pushes the door closed at her back, drowning out Slyth’s music and chorus of voices once more.
She’s seen Sylvan.
I can tell in how she lifts her chin, presses her lips into a pout, and narrows her eyes. “Moved on already?” she asks, but she doesn’t sound as confident as she’s pretending to be.
Truthfully, she should be. She looks gorgeous, her cheeks flushed from drinking, eyes sparkling in the dim lights, body flawless.
But standing in a circle of all four of us—me, Faust, her, and Sylvan—all I want to do is leave. I’m not embarrassed and I’m definitely not afraid of Tasia, but whatever just happened, I can’t analyze it here, with all of them.
“Maybe not,” Sylvan says, and when I jerk my head in his direction, I see him staring at his hand. He makes it look casual, like he’s examining his clean fingernail, but I know those are the fingers he had inside me.
Motherfucker.
“Oh?” Tasia’s surprise is in that one word, high-pitched as she darts her gaze to me.
I smile sweetly at her. She’s an idiot for getting herself involved with him again, but maybe so am I for letting it happen.
“Go on,” I tell her. “I was just grinding against Faust.” I squeeze his arm and he’s rigid beneath me, probably not liking I’m using him as a pawn to save my ego, but he says nothing.
Tasia glances at him, then me again. “Were you?” she asks, like she doesn’t believe me.
I shouldn’t lie to her though. Sylvan’s fingers were just inside me. If anything, he needs to wash his fucking hands before he fucks around with both of us back-to-back.
“If you don’t mind being his second course, have at him.” There. I did my best to look out for her. Without another word to either of the boys or Tasia, I shove past Faust—this time, he lets me—and crash back into the lounge.