"Oh, I already know I drive him crazy," I correct, sitting up.
No man has ever come from touching me.Tastingme.
But Atticus did.
I could tell he was mortified, but the truth is…I've never felt more powerful than when I heard him grunt and groan through his release, spilling himself all over the floor because he was so turned on just from the feel of me in his hands.
What we did out there—it was cathartic. Physical. Necessary.
But I can't afford for it to be much more with him. Not yet. But maybe soon.
Seven's expression darkens as I tug on my jeans, and I cock my head at him.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"That's not nothing," I say, mimicking his words from only a moment ago.
He snorts. "I'm glad you're trying to forgive him, Ro. I couldn't say for sure if he deserves it, but he's my brother and despite all his flaws and fuckups, I love the bastard."
He runs a hand through his sleep-tousled hair, pushing it away from his face.
"But so we're clear,no onegets to put their hands on you if you don't want them there. If he wasn't my brother and I didn't knowhow he was trying to protect us…or how sorry he is—I'd have cut them clean off his wrists."
He watches my throat bob as I swallow.
"Does that scare you?"
"No."
"Good."
He stands and extends a hand to me. I consider the birds inked into the back of it. The faded star-like symbols on his fingers and the snake that runs up from his forearm for its head to rest below his little finger.
I take it, and he twines his fingers with mine, helping me up from the bed to get dressed. It's a little intimidating, but I realize I trust him to be judge, jury, and executioner. To anyone else, his moral compass might appear broken beyond repair, but I think it works just right.
"Do you think we should remove the dickfetti cannon from his record room? I thought he'd have gone in there by now and set it off, but…"
Seven purses his lips, shakes his head. "Nah. You wouldn't believe it, but we used to prank each other all the time. I say we leave it. It took a lot of work."
I grin coyly back, pulling my shirt over my head. "It would be a shame to let it go to waste."
His eyes glimmer. "Exactly."
His smile is broad as he takes my hand and leads me from the room.
As we enter the library, Atticus stops what he was doing with Ellie—trying to teach her to do some kind of trick with her front paws fully off the ground by the looks of it—and hands her a treat.
"Where's Céline?" I ask, scanning the room. I thought she was supposed to come back for this meeting.
"I already went over things with her this morning," Atticus says. "She headed out."
He pulls his dirty blond hair back from his face to twist it into a knot atop his head.
"I hope my text didn't wake you," he adds as he walks toward where Elijah is already sitting on one of two low brown leather sofas that face each other in the corner of the library.
"Nah, we were up already."
