Chapter 23 #3
Micah Hearst. Oooh, sounds fancy.
I dart my eyes to Callum, who watches me. I’m not going to take his money, but I do note his gold card and his black card. Callum doesn’t need a guy with money, either. He’d rather have good dick.
I stuff the shit into Macon’s hand. “Take him,” I tell them.
Hauling Micah Hearst off the ground, Macon throws him over his shoulder, and it finally occurs to me that he didn’t yell at me when he got here. I mean, he’s mad that we brought Liv, but he didn’t try to stop me.
He’s calmed down a lot with Krisjen around. He should still be mad. What we’re doing is stupid, but I’m going to do it anyway.
They leave, my brothers carrying the men’s turtleneck sweater model. One of them will take his car to Fox Hill, the other following in the truck.
When he wakes up, his head will be pounding and he won’t be in the mood for sex.
Liv shoves Callum off of her and climbs to her feet.
Moving to him, I press my boot onto his chest, keeping him on the ground.
My sister stands at my side. “I’ll be out in a minute,” I tell her.
I don’t know if she’s satisfied. She wanted him dragged from the boat—not his boyfriend—but his night is ruined nonetheless.
Still not even close to a sufficient payback after what he did to her, but I’m not looking to make him bleed tonight.
Getting us arrested will only help him in his pursuit of the Bay.
She leaves to wait for me at my car, and to my surprise, Callum makes no move to rise.
The room quiets, the only sound the water kicking up against the boat.
Callum locks his hands behind his head as if he’s having fun. “Smells good, doesn’t he?”
The male model?
“He’s strong,” Callum coos. “He smiles, he tells me what he’s thinking, he can stand it when I want to look at him…”
And I can’t?
I pull off my shirt and stare down at him as I unfasten my belt, open my pants, and pull myself out.
His gaze lowers, and that fucking smile falls as his eyes linger on me and drift up my torso.
I can stand it when people look at me. Even when I’m not hard, I look good.
I just don’t care if he wants to.
But the seconds tick by, the silence between us fills the room, and he’s still taking me in, as if trying to memorize every muscle, every vein. All I’m aware of are his eyes on me.
I can stand it when people look at me.
I just don’t like it.
Callum meets my gaze again. “If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?”
I narrow my eyes, but before I can figure out why he’s asking that, I know where I’d be.
Nowhere else but here.
With him on his back and me looking down.
Warm blood courses from my upper body down toward my legs, almost making my stomach feel like it’s floating, and I tuck myself back away before I start to get hard. “You don’t get to have fun while you torture the Bay,” I grit out. “Call off the curfew. Or not, for all I care.”
I can do this every day.
I button and zip up my pants and fasten my belt. Squatting down next to him, I wrap my hand around his throat. “If any man fucks you or sucks you, I’ll beat him senseless.”
He doesn’t falter, even as I start squeezing his esophagus.
“You’re so predictable,” he murmurs, pressing against my hand as he rises up to get in my face. “Why do you think I brought my date here?”
Of course. It’s always about me.
“You knew I would come,” I say.
“I wanted to see if you would.”
“And if I hadn’t?”
He breaks into a smile. “Then I guess I’d be starting to find out if you were really good in bed or if it was just my lack of experience.”
Rising up, I glare down at him. “You will find out.”
When I’m done with you.
Then you’ll know I was the best you ever had, and you’ll never get it again.
“But in the meantime, I still have things to teach you, my young Nero.” Swiping up my shirt, I pull it back on. “When are we going back in?”
I want to see the Den.
“Friday,” he answers, barely hesitating at the challenge. “You won’t get away this time.”
“I’m smarter than you think,” I state again. “You will find out.”
I throw his own words back at him. I want to know what happened to Anna-Katherine in there, and I still need some leverage.
He’ll fail at catching me. Again.
Walking away, I head for the deck. But I stop just before the sliding glass doors and glance back at him. “If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?” I ask.
I’m not sure why I’m asking, but I never needed reasons for anything I do.
He lies on the kitchen floor, staring at the ceiling with his hands locked under his head. “In the bedroom,” he says. “Naked with you, between the cool sheets.”
I stop breathing for a second.
He looks over at me. “All night.”
I clench my jaw, staring at him with my whole damn body longing for all of that. A dark cabin. A huge bed. No sounds but us.
And that’s exactly the reason he fucking said it. He has nothing to lose by letting me know he wants me in his bed.
“But you don’t need anyone,” he says. “Do you?”
Spinning around, I charge across the deck, sliding down the stairs and stepping onto the dock.
He’s going to lose this war. He’s just trying to fuck me up by any means necessary, and it won’t work. Because he’s right. I don’t need anyone.
And I’m not trying to put on a facade.
I care about people—my family, my friends—but shit happens, and you have to deal with it. People disappoint you, they betray you, and they die. If your existence relies on being loved and needing comfort from others, then you can’t mean much to yourself, can you?
My father made terrible decisions to keep my mother alive, and she gave him complete control. Their story isn’t unique, either. How many people are one heartbreak or death or abandonment away from self-destruction?
The only consolation in all of this is that even if Callum gets what he thinks he wants, he still won’t have me. In time, he’ll be his father, and I will have been long gone from Sanoa Bay.
He’ll marry and enter an endless stream of charity dinners, credit card bills, and socializing with fake people only made bearable by the fuckboys he hides away who only want his money, just like his wife and kids.
My throat swells, my eyes water, and I nearly fall, grabbing a dock piling to steady myself.
I bite back the cough caught in my throat, damn near gasping. “What the fuck?” I breathe out.
His life is laid out before me in my head, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Fuck.
Goddammit. What the hell do I care? He’s going to get everything he deserves.
Hurrying to my sister’s car, I yank open the door and climb in. As soon as I’m seated, she shifts into reverse and speeds out of the lot, toward home.
I don’t even look at her as I turn up her radio and blast the music.
Thankfully, she can read my mood. I half suspect she provoked me tonight for ulterior motives that have nothing to do with vengeance on Callum Ames.
She’s never been one to hold a grudge. I mean, she’s marrying her high school bully, for Christ’s sake.
By the time we make it back to the house, Macon’s truck is back, and I spot the flicker of the fire pits around the pool.
Clay’s Bronco sits next to my Supra.
“Shit,” Liv mumbles. “I thought she was working late.”
Walking around the garage to the pool, we hear shouting before we even see who’s there.
“What were we supposed to do?” Macon barks.
Liv and I emerge from the trees to see Clay and Krisjen standing waist-deep in the pool, margaritas in their hands.
“Whatever the hell you want,” Krisjen chirps in a false tone of agreement. “Just don’t think we’re going to sit around and bite our nails, waiting to see if you’re all safe.”
Clay sneers at my sister. “Army let us know where you were and what you were doing.”
“Well, it wasn’t my idea!” Macon tells his wife.
“Nor was it a worthwhile use of your limited luck!” she fires back.
Ascending the steps, she climbs out of the pool, coming around the corner in a black one-piece that has a thin string zigzagging across the front just tight enough to keep her breasts from completely popping out. Droplets of water glisten all over her tanned skin.
“Oh, my God.” Macon looks her up and down as she walks past him. “What are you wearing?”
Her revenge suit, dumbass.
He starts to follow.
“Don’t touch me,” she snaps back at him. “I’m in a pout.”
He throws a glare back at me before shooting off after her. “Fuck.”
And that’s the revenge part.
I glance at Iron, just to confirm he’s home safe, but Liv approaches the edge of the pool and diverts my attention. “Come here,” she tells Clay.
“I’m not done with my drink yet.”
“I think you’ve had enough drinks.”
“And yet,” Clay smiles, batting her drunk eyelashes. “I’m not the one breaking the law.”
She spins around and sets down her drink, jumping up to snatch her hair tie off the deck. Her swimsuit bottoms barely cover her ass, and Liv grabs her heart. “Oh, my God,” she groans. “She’s so hot.”
We watch our sister jump into the pool, fully clothed.
Clay spins around. “I’m mad,” she warns, but excitement gleams in her eyes.
My sister grabs her. “And I love you.”
Their arms circle each other and they kiss, bikini straps starting to come undone.
I shift away from them, scolding, “There are children here, Olivia.”
“Guys, go inside.” She pulls off her shirt, kissing her girl. “Close the doors and the blinds.”
Christ’s sake.
Iron and I slip into the kitchen, and I slam the door, already hearing laughter and squeals coming from upstairs.