Lusting after Elena is one thing, but actually having her is something else entirely.
It’s detrimental, and I would not survive.
“No, Augustus. Explain yourself,” she presses, her nose scrunching in the way that puts my cock on high alert. I have to grind my teeth to keep from telling her how fucking adorable Ifind it. Her lip juts out, pouting, and fuck, I want to bite it so badly.
“We all know you’re going to bail,” I mutter, unable to deny myself the urge to piss her off, just so I can see her pretty face twist in vexation. What the fuck is wrong with me? “So, why bother pretending otherwise?”
She scoffs. “What makes you say that?”
I pop a brow, looking her up and down. She’s wearing a maroon crewneck with a dagger in its center, the wordsFeeling Stabbyin cursive lettering are over the top and bottom of the image, paired with mismatched blue cotton shorts covered in…tigers?
“You’re lazy, you rarely leave the house, and you hate being social.” I nod toward her outfit. “Plus, you live in clothing like that. Do you even own something black tie?”
Her brows rise, massive, alluring, want-to-die-inside brown eyes blinking at me in disbelief. Tongue in cheek, she tosses her snacks onto the counter, swiftly closing the distance between us until her toes meet mine.
She bats her lashes, my skin flames, and my cock is hard enough to break through brick when her lips tilt into a saccharine smile. She places a hand at the center of my chest, the prick of her touch sending shivers down my spine, causing me to bite back a moan at nothing more than the goddamn brush of her fingers over my clothed skin. Fuck. I am so ruined.
She drags her hand down, hovering dangerously close to my cock. It pulses, knowing that she’s nearby, desperate for her to touch it, take it out. Hold it, suck it, bite it. If she dropped to her knees in front of me right now, I’d throw every ounce of my well-fought caution to the wind, and if she sucked my cock, I’d chant her name like a god I’m praying to.
She doesn’t, though. She doesn’t do anything but leave me hard and arching when she whispers, “You’re going to eat your fucking words, Hayes.”
The glare she cuts me has me choking on my breath, and satisfaction simmers in her gaze as she drops her hand, stepping back and snatching her pretzels from the counter before turning toward the stairs.
I watch her perfect ass sway with each step she takes, and I can’t help my smile.
“I don’t doubt I will, Little Vice.”
“Baby girl,I told you not to be lifting heavy shit in your condition,” Dom, Everett and Leo’s friend, says as he steps away from me and finagles a large box out of his wife’s hands. “Sorry, I’ll be right back.”
“No worries,” I say, lifting my glass of whiskey to my lips. “Do you need any help?”
I came early to the event—an auction at an art gallery named Muse—because it’s partially happening in my brother’s name. The Foundation’s name. My parents aren’t attending, though, not able to make the drive from Palm Springs.
I talk to my mother often, but our relationship has been notably distant since my brother died.
My dad fucking hates me and refuses to acknowledge my existence.
It’s why I had no part in the Foundation when they started it, and why I’ve never attended the events they’ve put on. But tonight’s auction is in large part due to Everett and Leo and the relationship they have with the gallery’s owner. They wereinsistent that I attend, that I be involved in the Foundation and my brother’s memory.
Unsurprisingly, once that was made clear, my parents were conveniently unavailable.
So, I arrived early, because as the only member of the Hayes family in attendance, I felt like I should. Though, everyone keeps treating me like I’m fragile, like I shouldn’t lift a finger. I want to scream that it makes me feel out of place and like a burden, but I don’t know them that well.
“It’s not a condition, Dominic,” his wife, Macie, snaps. “It’s your spawn.”
He laughs affectionately before kissing her forehead. “Okay, fine. Please don’t strain yourself while you’re developing my spawn.”
She huffs, placing a hand over her rounded stomach before facing me. As if she can read the discomfort in my features, she smiles softly. “Come with me. I’ll have you help Leo with the lights he’s setting up over the front doors.”
I set my drink down on one of the standing tables that outline the perimeter of the showroom. Macie leads me through the large, open space and to the front door, where Leo stands on a ladder, stringing small fairy lights over the top of the frame while his wife watches from below.
He pauses, glancing down at Macie and me. “How’s she cookin’, mama?” he asks, nodding toward her stomach.
Macie drops her head, looking at her body before her gaze swings to Darby. She closes the distance between them. “I’m not as ripe as you are,” she says, placing one palm on her stomach before extending the other to Darby’s. “But she’s baking.”
“I hope they’re best friends someday.” Darby giggles.
“Maybe if we, like…press our bellies together, they’ll absorb each other’s energy or something.” She steps into Darby,bumping their midsections in a way that sends a fit of giggles echoing throughout the room.
