Page 42 of Badges
Her chin quivers, then her lips thin. “Why not? Isshein your bed instead?”
“Stop it.” My patience is wearing thin.
“You want her. I can see it.” Her voice raises as she steps back, crossing her arms over her chest.
“What I want doesn’t matter. And it’s none of your business.”
“Ever since you saw her the first time. Your eyes changed. You don’t look at me the same.” One of her fingers makes a circle towards my face as her gaze flicks past me.
“Tell me you don’t want her.” Paige’s jaw juts into the air. “Go on.”
My teeth grit as I stare her down.
I’m not a liar.
An unseen touch from behind startles me.
Elena slides her palm over my wrist, then drops her fingers to weave them into mine. “You got your answer,bitch.Now get out of my house.”
The inside of my cheek becomes the sacrificial lamb when I bite it hard enough to keep from laughing out loud.
Paige’s skin flushes up from her neck until the red engulfs her. “Fuck you both,” she hisses.
“Your dick isn’t big enough for me,” Elena snaps back.
Jesus. I can’t fight back the snort watching Paige stomp out the door.
But then I become extremely aware of the fact that Elena is still pressing against my side with her thumb rubbing a small arc over mine.
And I want to let her.
“Okay,” I slowly extricate myself from her grasp.
Reluctantly.
“Fun and games are over.” I nod towards the dust cloud marking Paige’s departure.
Elena flashes me a wide grin. “I don’t know what part I enjoyed more? Watching you try to hide the truth, or putting her in her place.”
Her ass bounces as she skips across the living room to the kitchen.
What would it feel like if she made it jiggle like that while she sat on my face?
Christ.
Stop.
Pretending we were together was just for the ruse. That won’t happen.
With a groan, I kick off my boots and head in the direction of my room. “Since we’re back early, I’m gonna get that hay knocked down.” I think getting away from Elena and having some time to myself on the tractor is the best thing I can do now.
The only reason I mow that back pasture is for Dad’s old nag. She’s well past the age of being able to ride, but she earned a cushy retirement in his barn.
I learned how to ride on that horse. I don’t mind putting up a few bales every year for her.
When I pop out of my room, I’ve left my uniform behind to put on a light cotton shirt with my jeans.
Luckily my tractor has air conditioning. And a radio.
