Page 186 of Sinful Like Us
Don’t touch her.
Fuck me.
Fuck Tony, who’s still watching. Hell, a lotof people are. This is the biggest show we’ve had since my knockout fistfight.
Charlie rolls his eyes, irritated. “For fuck’s sake, you’re acting like I put a gun to his head. I simply threw a book at him.”
Maximoff rubs his tired eyes and slowly stands up.
“Maybe I should’ve thrown it harder so he could read me better.”
“I’ll read you,” Farrow says. “I’ll read you to fucking hell and back, and you couldn’t take one minute of it.”
Charlie’s eyes burn. “I’m waiting.”
“No,” Maximoff cuts in and sweeps an arm around Farrow’s shoulders, affectionately. “Don’t, Farrow.” He glances at Charlie. “No one is lashing back at you.”
“Who made you king?”
“No one,” Maximoff growls. “Christ, Charlie, just take a breath.”
“I’m breathing,” he snaps, then veers to Jane.
No.
He’s picking tender, vulnerable flesh to attack, and I’ve been in fucked positions before—but I’m at a loss of what to do to protect Jane from her own brother.
“I’m dying on the side of the road,” Charlie says. “So is Thatcher. Choose who to save.”
She blinks back tears, a sharp breath escaping. “I’m not playing this game.”
I will.
“She’d choose you,” I tell him strongly. “My brother, Thatcher—he’d want her to choose you.”
Jane’s face twists.
Charlie doesn’t even pause. “I’m dying on the side of the road. So is Moffy. Choose—”
“Charlie!” Maximoff yells.
Jane is winded, and I place a hand on her back. My stomach knots a thousand different ways.
“Yes?” Charlie arches a brow.
Maximoff growls, “You’re being a sadistic asshole.”
“I’m fine. I’m fine,” Jane mutters repeatedly, a hand to her face. This is a combination of emotional hell she’s felt.
They’re all breaking, and my instinct is to carry her out of here.
One more minute of this shit, and I will.
“Sadistic.” Charlie nods slowly. “You want to see sadistic?” He addresses the room. “Just soeveryoneis aware—this isn’t Banks Moretti.” He points at me.
I’m rigid.
“NO!” Jane screams bloody murder. “Charlie!”
