Chapter 18
Boston cut the engine in the forecourt when we made it back to Aston Manor and I glanced at the front door to make sure no one was waiting for me.
It was quiet though.
I removed my helmet, and Boston swung from the bike, taking the helmet from me and placing it on the ground. Then he offered me his hands.
I glanced down at them, then up at him, sliding my palms over his and sending a spark of something that definitely shouldn’t be there humming through me.
There was no point denying that things had shifted between us after our time together today.
Boston and I were more alike than I’d ever recognized, and it wasn’t something I could un-learn.
Accepting that he was a violent thug had been the armor I’d used against him, and he’d cut through it with the real stories he’d shared with me.
It didn’t change the fact that my life was like a ball of jumbled cords and every time I tried to unravel it only pulled the ball tighter.
I let Boston help me from the bike, getting my feet on solid ground and leaned back against it. Our gazes locked, a silent beat of understanding passing between us.
Things were different, and we couldn’t go back.
We’d definitely cleared away the lies between us tonight, but I had no idea where that left us. The most shocking revelation was that he had a heart. A big one. And it was technically mine to own, given we were legally husband and wife.
I couldn’t ignore the lingering feeling of guilt in my stomach that I was betraying Sinclair, Pres, and Dacre by being like this with Boston, despite the conversation between the four of us at dinner not so long ago.
They were my everything. And having a better understanding of Boston wasn’t about to change that.
“Thank you,” Boston said, his fingers toying with mine in a way that was strangely intimate.
I frowned up at him, a small smile playing on my lips. “For what?”
“For coming on a ride with me. For taking the time to hear me out. Kind of feels like we might have made some progress tonight.”
I dropped my gaze, shifting on my feet. “Progress towards what exactly? Because you know I won’t leave here, right?”
He studied me, those deep brown eyes locked on mine. I was desperate to know what he was thinking.
“I don’t know if that’s what I expect from you. At least, not anymore.”
I wanted to ask what that meant, but he’d clearly revealed as much as he was going to.
“Can we do this again?” He gave my fingers a soft squeeze. “You’re already finding it hard to hate me after tonight, I can see it.”
I ducked my head to try to hide my smile. His curved index finger propped under my chin to draw my gaze up to him. “You’re cute when you blush, Firecracker.”
Our eyes locked for what felt like the eighteenth time tonight and I drew my bottom lip between my teeth. Was he going to kiss me?
I didn’t want that.
I couldn’t want that.
That was crossing a line I didn’t want to cross when it meant betraying the three most important people in my life.
A throat cleared behind me, breaking the moment.
“Glad to see you made it home safely,” came Sinclair’s voice.
My head swivelled in an instant, Boston’s hands dropping to his sides and he took a step away from me.
“Did you have a good time?” Sin asked, coming down the front steps, his hands in his pockets.
I glanced at Boston, nodding once. “Yeah, I guess we did.”
Boston was silent, he and Sinclair locked in some kind of silent battle sizing each other up.
Then Boston turned to me. “I’ll see you soon, Dempsey.”
He rounded the bike, tugged his helmet into place. I stepped back as he gunned the engine then took off down the driveway, the red of his taillights illuminating the trees.
When I faced Sinclair, he was back-lit by the house, making it impossible to read his face.
He was still in his work clothes, having discarded his suit jacket, his sleeves rolled to his elbows.
It was one of my favorite looks from him.
Maybe only second to him shirtless in the oil-stained jeans he wore in the garage when he was working on one of his cars. Or naked.
“Now that he’s gone, did you really have a good time?” he asked, no audible judgment to his tone, but not overly thrilled either.
“No. Yes.” I sighed. “I don’t know.”
When I went to walk by him to avoid any more of this awkward conversation and the guilt pooling in my stomach, his fingers closed over my wrist, stilling me. “You’re allowed to, you know?”
“Allowed to what?”
“Have a good time with him. We told you that if you want to know him…”
“I don’t know if that’s what I want.”
He studied me for a moment, reading me in a way that had unnerved me when we first met. Now, it made my life so much easier. He could see all the things I was too much of a coward to say out loud.
Shifting so he was facing me fully, his arms slid around my waist. “I missed you.”
I melted into him, holding back a sob as the guilt in my stomach eased only the slightest amount. He was giving me an out, a free pass in a situation where I probably didn’t deserve one.
I had no idea how Dacre would react to the idea that I’d spent time with Boston, but I knew Presley wouldn’t take it well.
He definitely wouldn’t be absolving my guilt the same way Sinclair was right now.
Not only that, he was telling me with his touch that he still wanted me. Still wanted to be close to me.
His arms wrapped around my waist, and I pushed up onto my toes to kiss him. His lips molded to mine, our tongues sliding over one and another.
He smirked when we broke apart. “Is that your way of telling me you missed me too?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak right now in case I word-vomited my guilty conscience all over him.
He took my hand. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?” I said, trailing after him as he towed me along.
“You like bikes so much, it’s only fair I get to take you on mine.”
When I returned to the house after my night with Sin, I was thoroughly exhausted.
We hadn’t even made it out of the garage, instead mauling each other in the backseat of Byron’s favourite Bentley. Sinclair had me come more times than I could count before we’d made love right there on Byron’s expensive leather.
What I’d thought was going to be a confrontation when he’d caught me with Boston had turned into an incredible night with Sin, sharing intimate moments.
I don’t know what I’d ever done to deserve Sinclair, Dacre, and Presley, but I wasn’t about to question it. They’d become the air I needed to breathe.
Showering quickly, I changed into my pajamas and slid between the sheets, determined that tonight would be the night that I got a full eight hours of solid, blissful sleep.
Now that Boston wasn’t the enemy I thought he was, maybe it would be possible.
My head hit the pillow, something crumpling under my hair, and I reached up to tug it free. The sight of an envelope had my blood freezing in my veins.
Don’t freak out, it’s probably a love note from Presley or something.
I tore open the envelope, my heart dropping to my toes at the two lines of familiar handwriting.
“How do you like my new attack dog? You think you can trust him? How cute.
Checkmate, sweetheart.”
I stared at the letter in my hands.
The urge to hide it—to tuck it in my back pocket and keep it a secret until I could work out how to deal with it—reared inside me.
But things were different now, I’d promised the guys I wouldn’t fight this on my own.
My bedroom door opened, Dacre slipping into the room. He took one look at my face and stopped short. “What is it?”
I thrust the letter at him, determined not to fall back into old habits of shutting them out.
He closed the distance to the bed and took it from me, reading it. I bit at my thumbnail, anticipating his reaction.
Dacre frowned back at me. “Is this what I think it is?”
I nodded, biting my thumbnail over the anxiety gripping my insides.
“My father’s back.”