So, I’m not worried about her running her mouth any more than she’s worried about me running mine, especially now, since she’ll be too busy soaking my sheets every night.
She shifts uncomfortably before her hand drifts to her collarbone, only to suddenly drop again. Brows knitting, I stare at her for a moment before I realize why she’s being weird.
“Your necklace. You’re not wearing it.”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without it since Barry gave it to her. Ever.
She sniffs. “I left it on my nightstand.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m a dumbass, that’s why.”
Her tone is sharp, but it also trembles. So I do what I never fucking do: I take the hint and let it go. I’m not even sure why, but I guess if I'm going to fight with her about something, there's an entire menu worth of better options.
How could you?
My chest constricts painfully, and my desperation for another distraction returns as several beats of silence pass.
“So, was it my cock that convinced you to cover for me?”
Her head whips back to me, an incredulous look on her face. “Now, why on earth would you think something as stupid as that?”
A grin stretches across my face, and my chest eases as I get lost in the joys of pissing off Reverie.
“Because Barry would have me arrested if you told him the truth. Which means I'd go to jail, and you wouldn’t have my dick to suck on anymore.”
And my fuckingGod, is she incredible at sucking me. It was unlike anything I've experienced before, and I'd get really fucking pathetic to experience it again.
It'll actually piss me off if I think about her skill too deeply, because she obviously had to learn that shit from fucking somewhere, and I'm likely to kill whoever taught her that.
Reverie sputters, and even in the dark car with only passing streetlights to illuminate her face, her reddening cheeks and the flames inher eyes are quite prominent. If it were possible, she’d have smoke blowing out of her ears.
I bite my bottom lip as the urge to laugh arises.
“Are you kid— You aresuch— I wouldn’t even— Ugh! I seriously fucking hate you!”
I’d have an easier time resisting her pussy than containing my laugh. It bubbles out of my throat, and when her eyes widen and she looks at me like I just confessed my love for her, I only laugh harder.
Her eyes narrow, highly unamused, but that only makes it funnier.
“For your information, I don’t feel like dealing with the fallout of accusing HCU’s golden boy of kidnapping. Not because of… ofthat.” She waves a flippant hand toward my lap and then deliberately turns her back toward me, crossing her arms and nearly face-planting into the window again—but not before muttering another insult beneath her breath. “Asshole.”
I bite back another bout of laughter. I glance over at her, pouting and angry, and a weird feeling erodes my chest before sinking to my stomach. It’s something like happiness, but sharper and more thrilling. I’ve never felt it before, but I refuse to dissect it. It’s been a long fucking night, and we’re both a little out of sorts.
Reverie’s phone dings, and she glances down before she seems to freeze. The energy immediately shifts, turning the surrounding air into ice.
Any trace of humor is gone as I ask, “What?”
She swallows thickly, hesitating to look up from her phone and meet my eyes. When she finally does, she looks like a deer in headlights—shocked, confused, and like she’s struggling to process something.
“I called Barry after I found the note in my room. He just got off the phone with Lionel’s parole officer,” she rasps, her voice hoarse. Then she licks her lips, before saying, “I… I guess Lionel’s home.” She frowns, as if she can’t believe she said that.
My eyebrows jump. Truthfully, I’m not exactly sure how to feel about that.
Relieved? Pissed? I don’t even know what to think.
“Lionel never asked to come to Colorado, so he would’ve been breaking parole if he did come here. His officer went to his house to check, and I-I guess he’s there.”
