“Don’t worry,” Zane says with an oddly malevolent streak for him. “Wilder’s got so many stepmothers it makes up for the ones the rest of us lack.”
“They’re not stepmothers, they’re just dad’s flings, you dork.” Then to Evie, who still seems alarmed. “My parents are still married.”
“Not for long.”
He punches Zane in the shoulder for the comment. “Thanks for reminding me my mother’s about to depart overseas and I’ll probably never see her again.” He waves a hand around the three of us. “At least your parents died. Mine just hates me because I remind her of my father.”
“That sounds really hard,” Evie says, voice full of sympathy.
Wilder’s so used to our brand of tough love, he looks startled at having an empathetic human on his hands. “Thank you. It is.” Then, because he’s Wilder, he completely ruins the moment and Evie’s solidarity by saying, “And it’ll take dozens of warm bodies to make things soft again. Want to get onto the list?”
“If you ever touch a hair on Evie’s head, I will bite off whatever fingers did the touching, then spit the severed digits on the ground, make you pick them up with your mouth, chew them to a pulp, and swallow.”
“And I’ll cheer you on,” she adds, eyes sparkling with her special brand of warmth again.
“Ugh. This is tragic.” Wilder clambers to his feet, brushing grass off his back and front. “I’m off to find some casual entertainment for the evening.” He wags a warning finger at Evie. “And what Dahlia doesn’t know, doesn’t hurt her.”
She stares after him as he lopes away, drawing female attention like a magnet. “Does he really expect me to collude to keep his secrets?”
“The problem is, he doesn’t really care,” I explain, shaking my head. “And if Dahlia shows him she does, he’ll cut his losses and move on. Then she’ll be far more devastated, regardless of whether she should.”
“She’s worth a thousand of him.”
“No, she’s not.” Zane follows Wilder’s lead. “But every girl in the country is worth more than the level of treatment they’ll get from that prick.”
She scrunches her nose. “Why do you hang out with him when you don’t like him?”
Zane and I exchange a glance, then burst into laughter. “Because he’s our friend,” I explain, sure I sound like a prize arse. “And we do like him, we just don’t like all the things about him all the time.”
“And some things, never.” Zane strides towards the garage, briefly turning to cup his hands around his mouth and shout, “Now, go ahead and do all the things I wouldn’t do.”
Evie cocks an eyebrow at me, but too many memories press too close to the surface for me to explore that instruction.
“Let’s go back to the garage and try to work out the rules of this game,” I say, gaze moving aside to avoid the disappointment on her face.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
EVIE
Smoke hangs in the air,thick and choking. Flames dance along the floor as Maddox runs for the exit, sprinting like I weigh nothing more than a feather, not even seeming to feel the punches I aim at his back and head, struggling to get free.
He clicks the car door open, spilling me into the back seat. His friends are in their vehicles, tyres already spraying gravel as they plant their feet on the accelerators and drive from the old wholesaler’s carpark at the speed of a scream.
My heart beats so fast I’m dizzy. When I land on the leather interior, I immediately try to scramble out of the vehicle, danger pulsing through my veins.
But he plants a hand in the centre of my chest, forcing me against the seat and my plan has gone so far awry because nowhe’sclimbing into the rear of the car, his body pinning mine in place. So tall, rippling with lean muscle, there’s absolutely no chance of escape.
And his fingers clasp my thigh, circling around the back, sending an avalanche of pleasure through my core as hewrenches my legs apart to gain access, as his palm closes over my mouth to muffle my screams, as he frees himself from the restriction of his jeans and nudges the head of his cock inside me then pauses, making sure our eyes lock before he buries himself deep inside me with one momentous thrust.
My knees bend to my chest as the orgasm rips through me, my panting breath so loud I cover my mouth with my free hand.
Usually, I sleep on the couch; me curled at one end, Ant splayed at the other, but I also have an inflatable mattress that fits into the bathroom when I need my privacy.
Since Maddox’s unexpected kiss in the hallway last week, I’ve needed myprivacyon a nightly basis.
It’s driving me ever-so-slightly insane.
I uncoil, my inhalations slowing to normal, the only complaint as the Maddox in my imagination fades is that the real Maddox hasn’t made a move on me since the incident in the hallway. Nothing that could even get close to counting as new ‘privacy’ fodder.
