Page 145 of Endless Anger
“Alone with the Curator president?” Beckett gasps, pressing his fingers to the center of his chest. “What would Asher Anderson say?”
I roll my eyes—I think. “You’ve got me here for the first time in three years, and your thoughts are about him?”
“Can’t they be about both?” he asks, lifting his eyebrows. Flames seem to ignite in his irises, and he slinks toward me, brushing some hair from my shoulder. His gaze drops to my lips, and my stomach rolls in protest. “If this is your way of proposing a threesome, I’m more than on board, sweetheart. Tell me where to meet the two of you, and I’ll rock both of your worlds.”
My mind races, trying to grapple with what he’s revealing here, but I can barely register it before other thoughts shoot through my brain, reminding me that I’m here for a reason.
Moving back, I try to keep my expression neutral. “Asher wouldn’t be into that.”
“Because he isn’t into men?”
“No, he is, but he doesn’t know you that well, and that’d be a deal-breaker.”
Plus, he wouldn’t want anyone other than me.
Right?
That’s what he’s been trying to tell me all along. I’ve just been too afraid to listen.
Beckett nods. “And you?”
“What about me?”
His foot slides forward, hooking behind mine. Trapping me. Fear clouds my lungs like a thin fog, but I ignore it, aware that we’re only feet from the party. All I have to do is scream, and Foxe will come running.
It’s weird he hasn’t already.
“I’m a little shy,” I say, trying to remove myself from his stance, but each time I go to lift my foot, it feels like it’s submerged in thick sludge.
“Aw, that’s just my type when it comes to girls,” Beckett coos, cupping my cheek with one hand. “The shy ones are always secret freaks. Your roommate was one too, so I’m not surprised you all got along.”
The hair on my body stands up. “How well did you know Celeste?”
He pauses, thinking. “Notthatwell. We hooked up a few times.”
“When was the last time?”
The pause ensues, and the silence between us grows heavier. Or maybe that’s me growing heavy, I don’t know. My eyelids droop, and I give my head a tiny shake to keep them open.
Beckett lets his hand fall from my face. “What are you asking exactly?”
Maintaining eye contact even as my entire body vibrates with the urge to look elsewhere, I lift my chin and roll my shoulders. “Where were you the night she died?”
For several seconds, he doesn’t respond. We just stare at each other, the air turning frigid around us.
Finally, something seems to shift, and he moves back, reaching for the buckle of his pants. “You want to find out, Wolfe, you asknicely.”
I continue staring at him, my limbs stuck in place. My mouth feels dry, and opening it to formulate a response takes me a moment. “You want me to suck you off in exchange for an answer?”
He shrugs, not a care in the world. “Suck me off and I’ll think about answering. I’m sure that’s not your only question.”
My nose twitches, but I school my expression, wondering how I might use this to my advantage. It’s clear he’s super into me and also Asher, so I can’t imagine him actually forcing himself on me if he wants to remain in Asher’s good graces.
Then again, he was in the forest that day with Celeste, and it seemed like the trio surrounding her turned to brute force when she tried to resist.
So maybe I’m in trouble here.
Or maybe him offering up the mostintimateand vulnerable part of himself is a mistake on his end.
