“He just took them off,” I admit in a quiet whisper.
His eyes darken. “Should I get my knife?”
I jolt at his words. “No, you crazy-ass psycho. I have like two outfits. I’ll take them off before I let you cut them off.”
He smirks, losing some of the disturbing malevolence that was just brewing beneath his surface. “Strip and get in the shower.”
I’m not going to win a war with Scout.
Shooting him a dirty look, I strip out of my clothes, hoping it looks as un-sexy as a striptease can be.
“Turn the water on and get in.” He grabs the back of his T-shirt behind his neck and yanks it off, revealing his colorful tattoos and rock-hard abs. “Now, prickly princess.”
Turning on my heel, I scamper into the bathroom. After turning on the hot water, I climb inside. Last night, we bathed together and then slept together naked. I’m safe here. They’re assholes, but I can handle a few pricks. Seconds after I’m relaxing under the hot spray, he enters the shower as well, crowding me from behind.
Scout’s palms slide over my breasts. “I like your rules. Sharing you equally. Having you all to myself and no one to stop me.”
His dick is stone behind me, a thick rod of granite between us. It makes me wonder if he’d feel differently than Sparrow did inside me. Would he tie me down and gag me? Or would he be gentle, like how he was when he washed me last night? I’d never admit it to him, but I’m curious.
My voice is breathy as he thumbs my nipples. “I’m a person, Scout, not a toy. And there are lines, even in this fucked-up game of ours. When I don’t want to have sex, you can’t make me.”
He chuckles, nuzzling my hair. “How did I survive each day without you before now?”
A laugh tumbles out of me. “Are you for real right now? You sound like an obsessive stalker.”
Or in love…
But that’s impossible. People like Scout don’t have hearts. They have sexual needs and big dicks for brains and douchey cars.
“I am an obsessive stalker.”
I don’t understand his cuddling or weird brand of playfulness. I’m not hating it, though, which makes me question my sanity. He’s keeping me and my sister captive against our will. Even my mental attempt to remind myself he’s a kidnapper falls flat.
“What are we even doing?” I ask, defeated.
He grips my hips, fingers digging in almost painfully, and twists me around. I shriek at the cold tile against my ass. His lips find my neck and he sucks the flesh so hard it hurts. Again and again and again he marks me, as though he wants his brothers to see what he’s done. It feels good being the object of his single focus. I’m also looking forward to the look on Sparrow’s face when he sees hickeys all over my neck.
By the time he pulls away, I’m breathless and needy. I half expect him to lift me up, fucking me into tomorrow. Instead, he washes us both, dries us off, and then carries me to bed.
“You don’t want to have sex, we’re not having sex.”
To sleep. No fooling around or sex. Just cuddling and sleep.
I don’t understand Scout’s game he’s playing with me.
But I am learning I like lying against his hard, naked body. A lot.
Chapter Nine
Sully
I wake to my phone buzzing. My neck is stiff from where I’ve been sleeping on the couch. If Della is going to be staying here for much longer, I’m going to convert the office into a room for her. There’s no way I can sleep on the couch forever. Buzzing continues and I blindly look for my phone that’s on the coffee table. Group text.
Scout: Family meeting. My room.
For fuck’s sake.
I take a detour to piss and brush my teeth before heading to Scout’s room. Sparrow stumbles out of his room reeking of liquor and pulling up a pair of sweats over his naked ass. I’m guessing he drowned out his sorrows with a bottle last night. And, because I’m the fucking babysitter around here, I’m feeling refreshed from going to bed early and not getting shitfaced.
Scout’s door is closed. Sparrow tenses, but when I thump his shoulder, he continues through the door. Like he’s the king of the fucking world, Scout is sprawled out—naked as the day he was born—with a sleeping Landry curled up against him. The sight of them is a kick to the chest I don’t expect.
Am I the only one around here not getting laid?
It’s not just getting laid. I could pull up Tinder and get with anyone with a few swipes. It’s that they’ve both clearly been with her. I’m jealous and annoyed and slightly turned on seeing her bare skin on display.
“Gloating?” I grumble, gesturing at them. “Real mature.”