Chapter Forty Two The Pull #2
He smirks. “Rest? Now you know you she won’t be getting much of that as long as you’re with us—so you might as well get used to that to baby girl. How about pancakes?”
I guess I’m adjusting to more than I planned. From settling for mediocre dick to getting wrecked by two massive ones daily. At this rate, my pussy and my mental might be equally fucked.
A few taps later, he sets his phone back down. “Twenty minutes. Then you can thank me for feeding you.”
I tilt my head up at him, lips curving. “I’ll thank the delivery guy.”
“See, that’s what I mean,” he teases, tightening his arm around me. “Always down playing me.”
“Me? Never,” I shoot back with a grin, resting my chin against his chest.
His expression softens as he looks down at me, his thumb brushing along my jaw. “I could get used to this though—seriously. Just lying here with you, not having to move, not having to go anywhere.”
“Lazy looks good on you,” I whisper.
He chuckles, pulling the blanket over us, both of us still naked. “Lazy feels good when it’s with you.”
The knock at the door finally comes, and Cairo slips out of bed just long enough to grab the bags.
Then we’re back under the covers, trays balanced on our laps, stealing bites from each other’s plates like it’s second nature.
Syrup sticks to my fingertips, and Cairo licks it off with a grin that makes my stomach flip harder than the food ever could.
Between mouthfuls of pancakes, I glance at him. “So… what do we have planned for today?”
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before answering. “Saint’s gonna swing by in about an hour to pick me up. We got some stuff to handle.”
My fork pauses halfway to my mouth. Just hearing Saint’s name sends a ripple through my chest. I haven’t seen him since the party last night, and with the way things ended between us, I can’t help wonder how he’ll react when he sees me. The thought settles heavy in my stomach, uneasy and unwelcome.
I force a smile, careful to keep my tone even. “That’s good. I, uh… I’ve got an interview later.”
Cairo raises an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “An interview? For what?”
My throat tightens. I pick at my eggs, careful not to meet his gaze for too long. “Just something new I’m trying out. Nothing major.”
He seems satisfied with that, nodding as he shovels another bite into his mouth. I exhale quietly, relief washing over me. He doesn’t need to know the truth—not yet anyways.
? ? ?
Cairo pauses in the doorway, kissing me goodbye once more before pulling back. His hand tightens at my hip before he turns and jogs down the driveway. I don’t look away as he slips into the passenger seat, the door shutting with a final thud.
For a moment, I think Saint might stay not get out the car—but then he pushes the door open, and my breath stutters the second his boots hit the pavement.
God, why did you make these men so fucking beautiful?
The sun hits him just right, warming his light-brown skin until it glows. I don’t even pretend to look away. Every step he takes tightens the knot in my stomach until the only thing I can hear is my own pulse thundering in my ears.
The look on his face tells me he’s more pissed than he was last night. Only now I can tell he’s sober.
His pace slows as he closes the distance between us, his heated caramel eyes dragging over me from head to toe. His gaze lingers on my hair before dropping to the short silk robe hanging off me, thin enough to leave little to the imagination.
“Okay, got it. So, this what we on?” he says, his voice low but tight, clipped with anger. “Standing at the door damn near naked when I pull up? Hair all wild and shit. Like damn can you make it anymore obvious you just got fucked?”
The words sting, even though I expect them. I swallow hard, clutching the edge of my robe, skin prickling under his stare. The robe suddenly feels thinner than ever, and I hate how much I want to explain myself, even as guilt and defiance war inside me.
I raise an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe. “Only when you’re mad over something you already knew about,” I say, tone playful but pointed.
His jaw flexes, a humorless laugh slipping out as he shakes his head. “Guess I’m not as special as I thought.” His eyes cut into me, but there’s something beneath the anger—something softer he’s fighting to hide.
I don’t know why these men are so determined to be special. Either way, it’s clear I’ve got work to do—with them, and with myself.
“Saint—” I start.
He steps closer, cutting me off. “Save it—can I see you later?”
The question makes my stomach flutter, heat spreading through me instantly. The memory of the last time we were together is still fresh, and my body reacts before my mind can think twice. I press my lips together, forcing a small shrug. “I’m not sure yet but… I’ll let you know.”
Saint’s eyes narrow, his gaze dropping to my chest, the silk of my robe suddenly feeling like nothing at all.
“Wow. Okay,” he says, the hurt unmistakable in his voice. “You spend the whole night with him and I don’t even get a straight answer when I ask if I can see you later? I see how it is.”
He turns to walk away, and panic collides with guilt so hard it steals my sanity. His name rips out of my throat before I can stop it.
“Saint!” I cry out, my voice carrying farther than I mean it to.
But he doesn’t stop, not once.
The engine growls, and Cairo leans out from the passenger seat, arm draped out the window. His eyes meet mine, and he winks—like seeing Saint isn’t ripping me in half.
While I stand barefoot on the porch, holding my stupid heart that I don’t know what to do with it.