Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
I buckle my belt. “Just sit with me for a second.” Having sex next to the fire has left both of us sweaty, but I sink back to the floor.
Sitting, Phoebe weaves her arms over her tits and faces me, about to cross her legs until I drag her closer. Her smile fights through, especially as I rub the length of her leg, and she holds on to my knee like it’s a teddy bear.
It’s cute. “You liked that?” I ask her. “What we just did?”
Phoebe tucks a hair behind her ear. “You couldn’t tell?”
“I just want verbal confirmation.”
“Yeah, I liked it. Did you?”
“Loved it, actually.”
“That’s good since…” Her eyes flit up to mine. “I love you.”
I’ve never heard her say that, and my lungs inflate with a power I could live and die inside. “Say it again.”
“I really love you, Rocky.” Her overwhelmed gaze softens on me. “Like probably way too much at this point.”
“Same.” I clasp her warm cheek. We kiss more tenderly, and when we retract, I think back to the sex we just had and say, “Don’t get mad when I ask you this.”
Her brows bunch. “That’s not ominous at all.”
I reword it. “Preface: I’m not trying to be a dick when I say this.”
“Say what?”
“You do know what a safe word is for?”
She flinches in surprise. “What? Why would you even ask that?”
I pull her even closer. She’s now sitting between my spread legs, and hers open around me, too. I keep a hand on her lower back. Her defenses drop while she’s more up against my chest. She holds my waist in a loose hug.
Quietly, I say, “There was one moment where I thought you might’ve gotten in your head about something, but I couldn’t see your face.”
“I was fine,” she murmurs.
“Yeah?” I chase after her gaze. “I’d believe you more if you looked me in the eyes while you said it.”
Her narrowed eyes find mine. “I was fine. You don’t need to worry about me when we’re sleeping together.”
“I do if you’re too stubborn to use a safe word when you need it.”
“I didn’t need it.”
I study her. “All right. Okay…but I’m telling you now, I can only read your body so much, Phebs. I can’t read your mind, too.”
“I know.”
I kiss her again, and she kisses back in an intimate, softer moment between us. Then she rises and walks over to the bookcase. I pick myself off the floor and follow. I’m at her side as she takes a picture frame off the shelf.
Photos of two little toddlers playing in tall grass.
She flashes it to me. “This could be us.”
“I doubt you were blonde as a baby.” She has olive skin, likely Mediterranean ancestry, and her natural hair is darker than mine, even if my hair is dyed black right now. I’m probably of British Isles descent, if I had to guess.
She examines another frame.
“They’re all stock photos, Phoebe.”
“I’m seeing if the cameras are turned on.” She’s checking the devices embedded in the frames.
“I told Nova to turn them off.” I double-check a couple frames on a higher shelf to be sure. More mics and hidden cameras are set around the house, and a surveillance room is on the second floor. Once we ensure nothing is recording from the bookcase, we go to the dining room and set the table using white gloves.
Tonight is also about collecting our parents’ DNA. One step closer to figuring out who’s biologically related.
I’m meticulous about the place settings. No fingerprints. No water splotches. I repolish a gold knife for longer than Phoebe would, which is why she says, “What are you doing?”
“Watching cartoons,” I say dryly, lifting my eyes to hers. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Jerking off a knife.”
“Funny.” I swipe it one more time, gaze latched to hers, and she swallows. I zero in on her throat, and as I place the knife down, I contemplate if there’s enough time to take her again.
“We’re still telling them, right?” Phoebe asks. “Your siblings, my siblings. We’re telling them that we’re really together?”
“Yeah, when they get here.” I didn’t seriously want her brothers to catch me in the act with her, but that would’ve solved the fucking orchestration of having to drop this news on them.
As the front door creaks open, I realize that time is now.
THIRTEEN
Phoebe
“We have something to tell you. Sit down, please,” Hailey tells me and her older brother—taking the words right out of my mouth.
We have something to tell you, too. Admittedly, I did not plan to say please, so my best friend is more polite than I am.
Rocky and I share a confused look before we plop down on the squeaky edge of a twin bed together. The rouge comforter is a baroque, Gothic pattern. Identical thick drapes frame the ornate mahogany headboard.