Lies, lies, lies.
Should write a fucking song with that title.
The house feels too big without Jonah in it. It always does on Saturday nights, but tonight it feels particularly bad.
When I hear Sadie on the stairs, I look up with every intention of saying something mature and reasonable and kind.
And then I get a good look at her.
White dress, skintight. Cowboy boots. Hair down and loose around her shoulders, that deep copper catching the light. Lipgloss on.
In that little white dress, she looks virginal and not. Both at once, impossibly, in a way that makes my brain short-circuit completely.
Every good intention I have blazes out in a raging inferno.
Three weeks ago I had my hands all over her. Two weeks ago I had my fingers inside her. And somehow, seeing her standing in my kitchen doorway in that dress, I’m still completely unprepared for what she does to me.
How my brain goes full fucking caveman.
She is going to destroy me.
She does a small, bashful turn in the doorway. “How do I look?”
Like I'd like to lock you in my bedroom and throw away the key. Like every well-intentioned thought I've had in the last week just went up in smoke because you set it on fire.
“Fine,” I rasp.
Her face falls slightly, and she smooths her hands down the front of the dress. “Okay. Well. I'll be back.”
She turns. Takes one step toward the door.
And something in me snaps clean off. My self-control. My sanity.
I hear myself speak before I've decided anything.
“You wear that dress, he's gonna try like hell to fuck you.”
She halts mid-step. Then she spins around slowly, and thelook on her face would make a weaker man wither and fall his knees. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me. Wearing that, you might as well be waving a red flag in front of a bull.”
She stares at me for one long moment. Then she moves, slowly stalking towards me, eyes as fiery as her hair.Seething.
She stops close enough that I can smell her perfume. Something new that she put on for tonight forhim.
She presses one finger into the center of my chest. “That's rich. Coming from you.”
I keep my face neutral. “What's that supposed to mean?”
“Just that the only bull-headed man here is you. And you sure look like you’re ready to do someimpaling.”
“I’m telling you, I know men. You don’t. You wear that dress, he’s going to spend the whole night plotting how to take it off you.”
Her blue eyes glimmer. “So what? I wear this dress, I’m asking for it, is that what you’re implying? Miss me with that bullshit.”
I move before I think. Two steps and my hands are on the counter on either side of her, bracketing her against the kitchen island. Close enough that there's nothing between us but a few inches of charged air and the thin fabric of that diabolical dress and whatever shreds are left of my self-control, which isn’t a lot.
“Whatareyou asking for, Sadie? You want some asshole sneaking glances at your tits all night long? Does that get you off, sweetheart?”
