Then look at Goldie’s profile. The slender neck. Dimple in oneround cheek. Arched brows. Dark hair pulled up in a high ponytail and waterfalling down her back.
She’s shed her coat and cardigan and is in a black tank top and a long skirt with little hummingbirds sipping off flowers all over the fabric. A random person passing her on the street would think she was a kindergarten teacher.
But she’s not.
No, she’s walking, talking, breathing temptation.
So very far from the easy publicity stunt she’s supposed to be. That sheagreedto be.
Clearly for her own purposes.
“If you fuck my sister, I will fuck you up so hard you won’t know where your mouth ends and your asshole starts,” Silas says to me.
I turn and face him.
And stare.
And stare.
And stare some more.
I don’t blink. I don’t break eye contact. And I don’t say a single fucking word.
Whiny-ass baby has good stare stamina. I’ll give him that.
He’s not blinking either.
I crack one knuckle. Then a second. Then a third.
All without breaking eye contact.
Kinda nice that the onions already lubed my eyeballs.
Makes this easier.
“Silas.” His date pokes him. “Go get our cheese.”
“One minute, babe.”
“Call me babe again, and you’ll be looking for a new nanny again.”
He breaks the staring contest with a mutteredfuck, but points his fingers at his eyeballs, then mine. “We’re not done.”
“Your sister’s a grown-ass adult,” I reply. “Let her do the threatening herself.”
“Aww, you’re so sweet.” Goldie pecks me on the cheek. “I think we can have that second date after all.”
Silas is red as a stoplight.
I’m hard as a steel plate.
And I’m slowly realizing that I’m not in charge here.
Goldie is.
She’s playingbothof us.
And fuck me one last time, it makes me like hereven more.
