Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
“Whatever the hell you want,” Krisjen chirps in a false tone of agreement. “Just don’t think we’re going to sit around and bite our nails, waiting to see if you’re all safe.”
Clay sneers at my sister. “Army let us know where you were and what you were doing.”
“Well, it wasn’t my idea!” Macon tells his wife.
“Nor was it a worthwhile use of your limited luck!” she fires back.
Ascending the steps, she climbs out of the pool, coming around the corner in a black one-piece that has a thin string zigzagging across the front just tight enough to keep her breasts from completely popping out. Droplets of water glisten all over her tanned skin.
“Oh, my God.” Macon looks her up and down as she walks past him. “What are you wearing?”
Her revenge suit, dumbass.
He starts to follow.
“Don’t touch me,” she snaps back at him. “I’m in a pout.”
He throws a glare back at me before shooting off after her. “Fuck.”
And that’s the revenge part.
I glance at Iron, just to confirm he’s home safe, but Liv approaches the edge of the pool and diverts my attention. “Come here,” she tells Clay.
“I’m not done with my drink yet.”
“I think you’ve had enough drinks.”
“And yet,” Clay smiles, batting her drunk eyelashes. “I’m not the one breaking the law.”
She spins around and sets down her drink, jumping up to snatch her hair tie off the deck. Her swimsuit bottoms barely cover her ass, and Liv grabs her heart. “Oh, my God,” she groans. “She’s so hot.”
We watch our sister jump into the pool, fully clothed.
Clay spins around. “I’m mad,” she warns, but excitement gleams in her eyes.
My sister grabs her. “And I love you.”
Their arms circle each other and they kiss, bikini straps starting to come undone.
I shift away from them, scolding, “There are children here, Olivia.”
“Guys, go inside.” She pulls off her shirt, kissing her girl. “Close the doors and the blinds.”
Christ’s sake.
Iron and I slip into the kitchen, and I slam the door, already hearing laughter and squeals coming from upstairs.
24
Callum
I can’t believe I said that to him last night.
Letting him know that I’d still rather go to bed with him than anyone else must have been a boost for his ego. As if it wasn’t the size of a mountain already.
He probably thinks I’m in love.
At the time, though, it just felt like “why should I care if he knows I want him?” I just want him to realize that he’s there because I say so. I’m dying for him to know that, actually.
Walking into the staff lounge, I see him and Ms. Oliver standing face-to-face, talking. He smiles down at her, and I slow, noticing she’s not even a foot away from his body. His hands in his pockets, he lowers his head, speaking too quietly for me to make out what he’s saying to her.
I talked to her about this, didn’t I? That’s not how I converse with teachers.
Dallas turns his head, and as soon as he locks eyes with me, the memory of his threat from last night returns. I’ll bet someone fucked or sucked him last night. Asshole doesn’t waste any time flirting.
I make my way to the cabinet, pulling out a coffee cup. Fuck if I care. That’ll end soon enough.
“Good morning,” Father McNealty says, dumping out his coffee into the sink. “I didn’t know you’d be in.”
“It’s a change of scenery from the house,” I explain. “Once I get my hands on some real estate, I’ll have need for a real office.”
I throw a look at Dallas as he moves to the coffee maker and pours himself a cup. By the way he’s glaring, I know he understands exactly what real estate I’m talking about.
“No complaints here.” McNealty rinses out his cup and sets it in the sink. “It’s good to have an alumnus around.”
He leaves, a few other staff and faculty lingering at the table or on the couches. Ms. Oliver has disappeared.
Stepping up to Dallas’s back, I slide my mug onto the counter in front of him. “Pour me some?”
I can hear the huff when he exhales through his nose, almost letting a growl escape. Lifting the pot, he fills my mug, and I reach around him again, grabbing two creams and a stirrer.
“What do you think you’re going to find in the Wolfe Room this weekend?” I ask. We are both safely out of earshot of everyone else in the room.
He turns with his cup, his eyes level with mine. “Pussy,” he says.
Staring at him, I hold back a smile, not because I’m amused, but because I’d be throwing him down on the floor if it was just us in here. Piece of shit, bastard.
It’s amazing how I could chastise Sophia for letting a bad man deceive her without a hint of irony. Seems I have a weakness for fucking pricks, too.