Chapter 31
Lily
“I think it’s dry,” Jane said.
“Sorry?” I blinked, straightening away from where I was trying to eavesdrop beside the kitchen doorway. I looked down at the plate and dishcloth in my hands. “Oh.”
“What are they talking about?” Jane whispered as she washed the dishes.
“Dad said he needed to have the dad talk with him.” I rolled my eyes as I put the plate away.
“Ah, yes, the good ol’ parental cock-block—”
“Jane.” Mom walked into the kitchen, disposing of a vase of flowers with a frown on her face directed at us. Mostly Jane. “I do not want to hear that word come out of your mouth again, got it? It’s vulgar.”
“It’s only vulgar based on the context.” Jane returned her attention to the dishes. Meanwhile, our mother’s lips were becoming more pursed by the second. “Anyway, what if I wanted to start referring to roosters as cocks?”
“Jane, that’s enough.”
“You know there’s a type of bird called a Booby? And another one is called a Dickcissel?”
I turned away, fighting a smile as I grabbed another plate to dry.
“My favorite is the Bushtit,” Jane said, already smiling.
My attempt to stifle a laugh failed and resulted in me blowing a brief raspberry before I slapped a hand over my mouth. At the same time, right as Mom was about to give Jane another warning, Dad and Dean appeared in the doorway. Both looked equally confused by the conversation they walked in on.
Mom shook her head in disappointment, shock riddling her features. “I should ground you.”
“But I already am, so…” Jane put emphasis in her shrug and turned back to the dishes.
In a huff, Mom grabbed several small plates from the cupboard, a premade cheesecake from the fridge, and then marched back into the dining room to prepare for dessert. Dad, on the other hand, only deadpanned at Jane.
“What? I learned it all from David Attenborough,” she shrugged innocently.
Dad didn’t respond. At least to her. Instead, his attention went to Dean beside him, and his expression grew stern. “I meant what I said, alright?”
“Understood.” The smile Dean gave him was one of pure sarcasm.
Dad’s eyes narrowed on him slightly — a last-ditch effort to make sure that warning truly sank in — before he left to be with Mom in the other room. She was making an effort to make more noise than was needed while plating dessert.
Dean pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and leaned against the doorframe. “What did we walk in on by the way?”
Jane grinned over her shoulder. “The all-important lesson on vulgar bird names.”
“It spiraled from cock-block,” I explained before looking at Jane. “Why are you grounded?”
“My grades were below average. You know how it is with her… I passed, but not to our mother’s standards— You dropped out of school, right?” she asked Dean.
He pulled away from the door frame as he moved to stand by me, resting a hip against the counter as he crossed his arms. There was a faint smile on his face. “Yeah, but I don’t recommend doin’ it if you’re good at school.”
Jane groaned and scrubbed the next dish with a little more force. “I can’t wait to move out.”
I pouted and pulled an arm around her. “You could come live with Kira and me.”
“Tempting, but I don’t want to be another cock-block for you guys,” she mused.
Dean cleared his throat. At first, I wondered if it was because of my sister’s insinuation, until he tipped his head to the doorway.
Jane and I looked over our shoulders to where Mom stood, once again shocked by the word she overheard — and possibly the idea of Jane moving out. The expression was brief before she raised her chin.
“Dessert is served.” She didn’t bother waiting for a response as she left.
“I can already feel that lecture brewing,” Jane muttered as she pulled off the gloves.
She left the kitchen first, and we followed her into the hallway. Except while Jane went to the dining room, I slowed to a stop, taking Dean’s sleeve to indicate he do the same.
He looked at me quizzically.
“What did you and Dad talk about? Was it the case? Or Antonio? Is he pulling you from this whole thing because Antonio’s kids know things?”
A lopsided smile graced his features, and he shook his head. “Not really. Actually, he told me to do as Antonio says. Play by ear, so to speak… What he really wanted to talk about was his rules.”
“Wait. He actually gave you the talk?”
“While I’m under his roof, I’m not allowed in your room. If he catches me in your room, he’ll probably shoot me.”
“And you’re going to be a complete gentleman and not break that rule?”
“You know me well.”
I hummed in irritation and crossed my arms.
The plans I had for tonight had already been ruined by one man — Gabriele and his unspoken threats — and any attempt to revive them were just dashed again by my father’s slightly misogynistic house rules.
I shaved, for fuck’s sake.
Yes, it was disturbing to know the triplets figured out Antonio’s oddly avoidant plan and that they were possibly — but hopefully not — planning some type of revenge, but tonight I made the mistake of wearing something extra that was in no way helping my situation.
It was drawing my attention to slightly more urgent needs. Pleasurable needs.
Dean raised an eyebrow, smirking. “What did you have planned tonight? Because what you’re wearing under this is…somethin’ else.” He brought his fingers to one of the drawstrings on my hoodie and twirled it around his middle finger.
It was hard to stay annoyed when he looked at me like that. “Just…things.”
“What things?”
“Distractions.”
“Yeah?” He pinched the front of my hoodie and gently pulled me closer, cocking his head back as he looked down at me through hooded eyes.
“Pity you’re too much of a gentleman to find out. Considering the rules.”
He smiled and ground his jaw a little. “Good point—”
“We’re waiting.” My mother’s voice cut through the moment, and we pulled apart. She stood outside the dining room with a hand on her hip.
“Coming, Mom.” I smiled until she left, and then dropped my forehead to Dean’s chest with a groan.
He chuckled and pulled me into a hug, resting his chin on my head. “It’s just for a couple of days. At least until shit cools down.”
“You are severely underestimating my mother’s ability to drive me insane.”
It was hard to focus on the movie when all I could think about was Dean’s hand. Or rather, where it was placed.
We were beside each other on the couch. Dean was sitting casually — completely unaware of what his touch was doing to me — while I had my leg, the one closest to him, tucked up against my body with his arm wrapped around it and his hand placed under my thigh.
Every so often, he massaged the spot absentmindedly — an unintentional caress that was creating several intentional thoughts in my head.
I wanted him to slide his hand down to find out what he was doing to me.
I wanted him to kiss me against a wall, any wall.
I wanted him to spread me beneath him and press his body to mine.
I wanted that distraction because that way I wouldn’t have to worry about staying in this house, or wondering if my boyfriend was being tracked by a criminal.
Where we sat on the sofa, in front of the living room window, was a casually strategic choice by Dean. The window behind us faced the street, and there was a small gap between the curtains that provided enough viewing space to peer out into the night.
After looking once more through that gap, he brought his attention back to the living room and caught me watching. He squeezed the underside of my thigh with a question in his eyes.
“I’m a little warm.” I pinched the front of my hoodie and fluffed it out for emphasis, causing a rush of cool air to skim down beneath the thick fabric. It danced along the front of my body and the lingerie beneath, which tickled my skin with the light disturbance.
I’m going to explode.
When Mom stepped into the living room, the feeling waned.
“The guest room is ready for you.” The words were directed more to the room than at Dean.
“Thanks, Mrs. Whitmore.”
I frowned at him, slightly amused by his use of formality, and he shrugged, hiding a smile of his own.
Mom fixed her neat bob with a quick flick of her head. “We also have a curfew, remember?”
How could anyone forget? The 9:30 PM curfew was a strict rule the entire family followed to get a good night’s rest. At least, that’s the excuse Mom made and Dad agreed to in order to control the whereabouts of Jane and me.
Even though I no longer lived at home, Mom expected me to continue following that rule while visiting.
“I remember, Mom,” I said.
“Jane, that means you too.”
Jane, sitting in an armchair and tapping away on her phone, rolled her eyes and lazily got to her feet. “Aye-aye, Captain.”
“I’d appreciate it if you dropped the attitude,” Mom said as Jane passed her in the doorway. Her attention then came to Dean and me, and she raised her brow expectantly.
I pressed my lips together as Dean unraveled his arm from around my thigh.
“That’s our cue,” I muttered.
It wasn’t until we were on our feet that Mom left the room and headed upstairs to join Dad.
After flicking off the TV, Dean and I eventually made our way to the stairs but paused at the bottom. With the guest room downstairs and at the back of the house, he wouldn’t be coming up with me.
I stood one step up from the ground level, almost his height, as I shared a small smile with him.
“See you in the morning,” he said quietly as the silence of the house closed in around us.
I hummed, reluctant to move. “Don’t be surprised if my mother has forced me into a chastity belt before then.”
“I can pick a lock.” He winked and made to kiss me. As our lips brushed, the upstairs light went out, blanketing us in darkness. A not-so-subtle hint from my mother, who had been eavesdropping from above.
I exhaled through my nose but brought the subject back to us. Never mind if she was still listening. “You don’t have anything to wear for bed.”