Page 127 of Tangled Like Us
Her lips lift, thinking of something. “I always wondered how Charlie would react if I introduced him to a boyfriend.” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “He’s the most unpredictable of my brothers.” She sets the container on the counter and unclips the lid.
And all of her brothers never met any of her friends-with-benefits.
She pulls out a pair of elbow-length yellow rubber gloves. “He wasveryquick to let you in,” she tells me. “That rarely ever happens.”
“Probably because I’m on security.”
She doesn’t look convinced. “Probably.”
I don’t know another reason, and I can’t worry about it.
We return to the living room with the supplies. She takes the hardwood while I focus on the rugs. Sweeping up the glass and removing the stains.
Five minutes later, Jane says, “Thatcher.”
I glance over from my area, a few meters from hers. Jane still has on the gloves, the rubber wet with wine. But she forgot to put her hair up. A tendril sticks to her lip and her arms are outstretched, trying not to touch herself with the gloves.
She tries to blow the strand off. “I made a fatal error.”
“Not fatal,” I tell her and come to her side. She’s kneeling on a clean patch of floor by the fireplace. We both avoid glancing to the window where her brothers and Farrow sit.
They can see us.
They can hear us.
They think we’refakedating.Fakefucking. It’s so far from the truth that even being in this room feels like wading in a lie.
But I’m here. Beside her. And there’s really nowhere else I want to be.
I squat down to be nearer to her height.They’re watching us.Can’t think about that now. I brush her hair from her lips. Natural. It looks natural.
I’m just her bodyguard.
“Thank you,” she says, but her breath is heavy like I’m one second from taking her right here. I was inside her last night. And the night before that. And in a few hours, I’ll be deep between her legs again.
That’s also where I want to be.
She’s about to return to the wet floorboards.
“Wait.” I quickly roll a hairband off my wrist. My hair doesn’t reach my shoulders, but it’s just long enough that I can put it in a bun.
Her smile widens when she realizes what I’m doing. Our eyes never detour, not even as I start gathering her hair in my hands. It’s messy.
Not even close to perfect.
But I’m able to tie her hair up into a knot at the top of her head. When I’m finished, her gloved hand hovers above her bun, and she scans the room for a mirror. None.
Her eyes hit mine. “How do I look?” she asks.
Beautiful.
But I feel the hot gazes of Charlie and Farrow. They’re quiet, which means they’re listening.
Fuck it.
“Beautiful,” I tell her.
Surprise parts her lips, but her smile reaches her eyes. “Tom called you an honorary Cobalt this morning on the phone,” she says. I didn’t know that.
