Chapter 2
“Damnit!”
I was totally and utterly screwed.
I stared at the table in front of me, the pair of dice I’d just tossed on the Monopoly board staring back at me where they had scattered, taunting me.
I’d rolled a seven.
I really didn’t want to roll a seven. Because a seven played me right into Sinclair’s hand.
“Someone is about to bankrupt herself out of the game.” Sinclair’s voice was low and teasing, the suggestion of a smile playing on his lips an instant turn-on.
He was so damn fine it made me ache all over. Especially when he was being an arrogant asshole.
Huffing out a breath, I picked up my game piece and started to count out each individual space.
“She’s stalling,” Dacre said, amused eyes locked on me from where he sat at my right.
We were in what I’d taken to calling the game room.
A long polished mahogany bar sat in the far corner stocked with every kind of beverage I could ever dream to drink.
A flat screen TV the size of my mattress hung on the wall surrounded by sectional couches.
And the pool table was something I’d never be able to get out of my head.
Not since my first night in this McMansion when I’d witnessed Presley railing a waitress from my mother’s wedding to his father.
My Presley.
Railing some undeserving waitress before he realized how much better it could be with me.
The memory made me lose count on the board and I faltered. Before I could stall further by returning to the start and counting out my seven spaces all over again, Dacre’s fingers closed over my wrist to plant my hand on my destination—Sinclair’s property, which was already weighed down with houses.
“Pay the man,” Dacre challenged, his eyes alight. His knee brushed mine under the table, sending a spark up my leg straight to my core.
I pulled my foot up onto my chair, tipping my head against my bent knee, trying to appear far more innocent than all three of them knew I was. “You see, the thing is…”
Presley laughed. “You’re broke.”
I pulled a face. “Yep.” I turned my hopeful eyes on Sinclair. “Maybe the landlord could give me a break on the rent, just this once?”
Dacre smiled, shaking his head at my useless attempt to sweet-talk Sinclair.
Sin was as stony-faced as ever. “No.”
I let out a sound of indignation. “Seriously? Not even if I beg?”
His eyes narrowed slightly. We both knew how much he liked it when I begged.
He shook his head once. “Not even then.”
Goddamnit. I hated losing. I didn’t want to go out this way.
I lifted myself from my chair, sliding into Sinclair’s lap and straddling him. His eyes darkened as he watched me do it, his hands smoothing up my thighs of their own accord. Before he could utter a word, I took his face in my hands, tilting it up so I could claim his mouth with mine.
He opened for me, and my tongue warred with his, both of us vying for dominance over the other.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, my chest fusing to his, and his grip tightened on my thighs. A soft moan escaped me as the kiss went on, and my hips rocked against him of their own accord.
Dacre cleared his throat, and when we broke apart Presley was watching us closely, his eyes hooded. He loved to watch. Whether I was swimming laps or on my knees for him, Presley’s attention was always on me. And I loved every second of it.
“How about now? Can I get a break on the rent after that?” I asked Sin. I couldn’t help the satisfied grin that spread across my face.
There was no way he’d turn me down. I could feel the effect of that kiss prodding me between my legs.
A slow smile spread across his face, his hands sliding to palm my ass.
“Still no.”
My mouth dropped open in mock outrage, and I shoved him in the shoulder.
Presley raised his hand from where he sat beside us. “I accept sexual favors for a free pass on rent money.”
Grinning, I reached out and closed my fist around his shirt. Pulling him towards me, I claimed his mouth with mine. He sat perfectly still, letting me man-handle him, his mouth the only thing that was moving against mine, desperate to take as much as I was offering.
Part of me loved that about Presley. But another, smaller part of me was sad about it.
He was so starved for affection. I’d worked hard these past months to show him how adored he was, but the damage of Presley’s childhood was hard to erase.
He’d been shown in a myriad of ways what love wasn’t supposed to look like.
That love was unreliable because it left you behind with a broken heart.
The response to that abandonment was an insecurity that ran so deep I didn’t even think I’d reached the bottom of it. And I felt it in the way he kissed me.
I felt it with Dacre too, but it wasn’t quite the same. Dacre had toughened himself to the feeling. Presley still seemed to feel it as keenly as if his past abandonments had just happened. And as a result, he held on tight, but I was determined to hold onto both of them right back.
My hand slid over Pres’ throat to cup his cheek while his tongue tangled with mine. He leaned into the touch, never breaking the kiss but relishing the additional contact.
Sinclair’s fingers pulsed on my thighs where I still straddled him, his hard length poking at my center.
My god, I was in danger of begging all three of them to strip down and take me right here.
Screw Monopoly.
“You know he doesn’t have the money, right?” came Sinclair’s deep tone.
I paused, breaking away from Presley. He shot me a sheepish smile, and I narrowed my eyes at him.
“You tricked me.”
The grin that spread across his face was brilliant enough to power an entire electrical grid. He blew me away daily and I’d never tire of staring at his insanely beautiful face.
“Tricked is such an ugly word.” He sat back in his seat. “I prefer selectively manipulated the truth to get you to put your mouth on me.” He sighed. “And you know what, Sass? I’d do it again.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “That’s all well and good, but I’m still broke.”
Dacre moved behind me, grabbing a stack of money and tossing it into the middle of the board. “Consider her debt paid,” he said to Sinclair.
We all paused, my gaze going from the money on the board to Dacre on the other side of it.
I slid from Sinclair’s lap, moving around to face Dacre. Placing a hand on his shoulder where he sat, I bent at the waist, closing my mouth over his.
His hand came to the back of my head, fingers instantly tangling in my hair in that way I loved so much.
His kiss was so different to the others.
Still hot and claiming, but it was deeper, because Dacre was deeper.
That wasn’t to say that Sinclair or Presley were shallow; they weren’t.
But Dacre felt things more deeply than he ever let others see. Anyone other than me.
It was why he was so successful at his art—he saw the deep meaning or feeling to everything. And he could perfectly capture it on a canvas.
When we broke apart, I pulled back far enough that I could focus on him.
“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he muttered.
I smiled at him. “Thank you for the loan.” I stood tall, raising my voice. “I promise to blow you later.”
“Why wait?” he asked, as I flopped back on my chair.
Sinclair stilled where he’d been collecting the money, all three sets of eyes landing on me to see if I’d bite.
“Don’t think I won’t drop to my knees and crawl under this table to give you what you want,” I cut back, quirking a brow in challenge.
“Fucking hell,” Presley muttered, no doubt wishing it was him I was making the offer to, but excited at the prospect of getting to watch me do it.
A slow smile spread across Dacre’s face. “Do you think I’m going to stop you?”
A silent battle played out fast between us, each of us waiting to see what the other would do.
Sinclair cleared his throat, sitting forward to lean his elbows on the table. “Before this devolves from game night into a gang bang…”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” I muttered to myself.
Sin shot me a look so filled with heat it could make my clothes melt.
“... We do have some serious shit we need to talk about.”
My brow pinched and I glanced at each of them.
“Ivers,” Sinclair said.
I swore, the moment instantly souring. “Way to ruin my mood and my night.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “What is there to talk about? We don’t even know if my marriage to Boston is real yet.”
The guys all shared a look, and Dacre reached out to brush his fingers over the closest part of me he could reach, which happened to be my arm.
“From what Sinclair’s found, it’s looking like it might be legitimate.”
I sat up straight. “What? How? And how long have you known this?”
Sinclair stared back at me, his expression its usual level of unreadable. “My investigator came to me last week…”
“A week?” I didn’t intend for my voice to come out quite so shrill, but I wasn’t about to take it back either. “You’ve known for at least seven days that I’m most likely legally married to a violent monster, and you didn’t feel the need to tell me?”
Presley reached for me, offering me his hand from across the table. Hurt flashed in his eyes when I didn’t immediately take it. Begrudgingly I reached out, closing my fingers around his.
“Nothing is confirmed, Sass. We didn’t want to tell you until we knew for sure.”
We.
“So you all knew?” I demanded.
Presley cringed at his error. “Well… yeah, but…”
I pulled my hand from his. Not one of them had felt the need to inform me before now.
I rounded on Sinclair. “So what are these serious things we need to discuss about my darling husband?”
Each of them winced in their own ways at my words. Sin’s jaw ticked like it always did when something truly pissed him off. Dacre’s eyes tightened at the corners, but he did his best to cover it quickly. Pres sat back in his chair, his eyes going blank as he withdrew into himself.
I hated hurting them, but a part of me didn’t regret saying it. They’d kept something from me. Something crucial that I deserved to know.
Dacre shifted his chair in my direction, taking my hand and brushing his thumb over my knuckles. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just gently touched me.
He knew all too well the way my body reacted to any kind of touch from him.
“We didn’t want to stress you out with this until it was one hundred percent confirmed. We weren’t trying to keep it from you to hurt you.” I softened at his words. “We just didn’t want you worrying about this until you absolutely had to.”
“We’ve been worrying about it enough,” Presley said, sincerity clear in his tone.
I blew out a long, weary breath, tipping my head back to stare at the ceiling.
As overwhelming as this marriage situation was for me, it was just as intense for Dacre, Pres, and Sin. This wasn’t just about me anymore.
Silence hung over the room until I uttered the words that had been haunting me since the moment Boston Ivers had turned up on the doorstep claiming me as his wife.
“So, if it’s real…” I said quietly. “... and I’m really married to that monster, what happens next? What if I’m forced to go back to Seattle with him?” I paused, glancing at each of them.
Tears stabbed at the backs of my eyes, but I wouldn’t cry right now. I wouldn’t give my father the satisfaction of getting to me this way or letting him win, but that didn’t mean I could stop the fearful thoughts from forming.
“What if he hurts me?” I whispered.
An anxiety cocktail flooded my body at the thought of the life I’d be forced back into. I was afraid of Boston Ivers, and I wasn’t too proud to admit it.
Dacre didn’t hesitate, pulling me from my chair and into his lap. His strong arms were around me in a heartbeat, cradling me against him. Presley shifted round the table and dragged the chair I’d just vacated closer so he could stroke my hair.
“We’re never going to let that happen,” Sinclair said.
I lifted my head to look at him. His pose was deceptively calm. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers toying with his game piece. Only his darkened eyes betrayed his anger. My fear abated slightly at the fierceness in his gaze.
“Boston Ivers will never get the opportunity to lay a finger on you. We’ll kill him first.”