“I can sit in the back,” I say to Brantley, as he gets out of the passenger seat of Nate’s Ford Raptor. Brantley doesn’t answer; he just slips into the back. “Or not,” I mutter, stepping up on the running board and sliding into the seat.
“So you know how it’s Halloween this weekend?” Nate grins as he pulls us out of the driveway.
“It is?” I ask sarcastically. “I didn’t even realize.”
“Yeah.” Brantley smirks from the back. “It is.”
I look to Nate. “So why am I here, anyway?”
“I told you.” He looks to me, pulling down a street off ours. “I have to look after you.” He pulls us into a long gravel driveway, up to an old southern-style-looking home. High ceilings, white pillars, the American flag flying proudly outside the front door.
“Do we all live down the same street?” I ask Nate.
Brantley grunts in the back, ripping off his seatbelt and getting out of the truck once we stop. I look to Nate nervously. “Nate, I don’t really wanna be here if this is Brantley’s house.”
Hunter clears his throat from the back. “Don’t worry about him.”
I look to Hunter, shocked about him talking to me. “But I do worry.”
Hunter rolls his eyes, taking off his belt and opening the door. “She’s a lost cause if someone like Brantley scares her.” Then he shuts the door and follows the way Brantley led toward the house.
I follow behind Nate as he leads us through the massive entry to the house and then downstairs into a bedroom. There’s an entry door to the side that goes out to the swimming pool, and the whole back wall is floor-to-ceiling windows. I flop down on one of the single sofas in the corner of the room. Hunter and Nate slide open the door and walk out toward the pool, laughing. Fucking Nate, leaving me in here with Brantley. Brantley is brooding, over the top, and… silent. He’s around six feet, dark hair, piercing dark eyes, and a sprinkle of stubble over his jaw. He’s the definition of scruffy hot. Brantley leans on the door, looking out to Nate and Hunter.
Wanting to break the silence, my no-filter comes out in full effect. “Why do you hate me?”
He looks at me over his shoulder. “You’re not a very likeable person.”
“Really?” My eyebrow quirks. “And you think you know me well enough to make that assumption?”
He scoffs, pushing off the door and turning to face me, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “I don’t have to know you to make that assumption. I’ve heard enough.”
“You’re a bit of a dick.”
He looks directly at me, his eyes piercing into mine. I fight the need to squirm. “I’ve never claimed to be anything else, kitty.”
“What did I do? Or what did you hear I did?”
“It’s not what I heard,” he says casually. “It’s what I know.”
“That makes no sense.”
“You make no sense,” he responds, walking toward me. He’s wearing a dark shirt, loose jeans, and black boots. He stops directly in front of me, bringing both hands down to the armrests on either side of my chair, caging me in. Leaning down, his eyes go from my lips to my eyes and then back again. “You think because Bishop fucked you that you have a free pass?”
My heart launches in my chest, and surprise must spread over my face, because he laughs, a menacing tone in his chuckle.
“Oh what? You thought he actually wanted to fuck you?” He tilts his head and leans closer so his nose is touching mine, his lips a whisper away. I hold my breath. “Naw, kitty. That was all part of the plan.” He inches forward, his lips brushing over mine. “Get you wet and needy, fuck you inside out, pretend that you meant more than an easy piece of ass.” He pauses, searching my eyes. “‘I wish it didn’t have to be this way,’” Brantley mimics Bishop’s last words to me from the other night.
My vision turns bleak. Everything in my peripheral turns black. “It was a trick?” I whisper, more to myself than to him.
Brantley laughs. “This is all a game, kitty. And you’re in the middle of a very fucked-up board.”
I snort sarcastically. “You think I care?” I brave myself to bring my eyes straight to his.
His narrow, dropping to my mouth. “Prove you don’t.”
“You hate me.”
“I’ll fuck you as hard as I hate you.”
My eyes grow hooded as I run my tongue over my bottom lip. “I sort of have a boyfriend.”
He laughs, his eyes still searching mine. Everything in the center of me kicks up to scorching levels. “Carter?” His hand flies up to my neck as he pushes my head back into the chair more. He tilts his face. “You and I both know he’s too vanilla for the shit that goes on in your head.” He pulls me up off the chair by my neck.