He smirks as I stare into them. "What are you looking at, Ro?"
I shake my head, but I can't stop staring. "Your eyes. They're so clear in the light."
"Yeah?"
I nod. "I wish I had eyes like yours."
His smirk turns sharper,wickedas he bites his lower lip and gives a slight shrug against me. "Your kids could."
I shove him. "Seven."
"What?" He jerks me back against him, tighter this time, making my thighs squeeze as he stares down into my eyes with the intensity of Hades's blue fire. "They could."
He lifts my chin with a knuckle and smiles against my lips. "But for the record, my eyes have nothing on yours."
Seven crushes his mouth to mine, fingers tripping along my jaw until they curl around the back of my neck, tipping me open for him to sweep in mercilessly with his tongue and take what he wants.
His teeth scrape along my lower lip, biting playfully before the back door of the house slams shut behind us and we break apart.
Atticus's heavy footfalls are punctuated by the clatter of metal trays as he makes his way down to the pool deck and the built-in outdoor kitchen area off to one side of it.
Seven runs his fingers through my hair, sighing at the interruption. Not that he cares. He'd strip me down and fuck me right in front of Atticus. He offered to do as much the other day—said it might teach him a lesson. But I don't care to teach him anything.
He's like a black shadow I can't escape, casting his shade, hiscoldover everything around him.
At first, I thought that coldness was the worst of him. But I think maybe it’s the warmth underneath. The warmth he showed me and then ripped away.
I listen to him start the barbecue and organize some things over the smooth concrete surface of the countertop, and I wish I could ignore him. Pretend he isn't there. He doesn't exist, after all…
But it's easier said than done when he's so obnoxious about making his presence known.
He hasn't said a word to me. Hasn't looked at me—or at least he pretends he doesn't.
He's followed my instructions to a T, aside from making his presence very clear when we're in the same space and the fact that heneverwears a fucking shirt anymore, even though it's starting to get cold out.
I wish I could tell him that no amount of added muscle can erase what he's hiding beneath. Those forearms may be wide, veiny, and tatted to perfection, but they are connected to hands that shoved me against a wall. That pressed the barrel of a loaded gun to my belly.
And those abs? The ones that would render any woman to a puddle of desire? They're the armor protecting a heart that's shriveled and black. Incapable of trust.
Seven lifts a brow when he catches me staring at the nonexistent man in our midst and I frown, clenching my jaw as I cast my gaze back to Elijah in the water.
Unlike Elijah, Seven hasn't tried to get me to see the other side of things. He and Atticus are speaking again, but Seven's not hiding the fact that he's still pissed at him.
"Want me to knock out another one of his teeth?" Seven asks mischievously, and I snort, but there's no real humor behind the sound.
I don't answer him because the truth is that I don't even know what I want other than to see Atticus as little as possible. I do know what Idon'twant, though.
I don't want to drive a wedge between the three of them.
They're family. Brothers.
The absolute loyalty and love between them is what drew me to them in the first place. It's what made me trust them. It's what made me mistakenly trust Atticus and stupidly think that his loyalty, his love, could extend beyond his brothers.
I see now that he's hardened himself against ever letting anyone else in.
And that's fine.
I won't ruin what they have, but I'm not going to make the same mistake twice.
