Page 102 of Bitter Lies

Now I just need to find a place to hide it from Griffin and my brother, assuming either of them cares.

Grabbing a beer from the refrigerator, I walk down halls I’ve never been down, passing room after room before I find a cozy dark library and close myself inside.

After the first beer, I’m woefully sober, but I refuse to go back. Instead, I pass into oblivion, exhausted from the emotional roller coaster I can’t seem to get off.

∞∞∞

“Sh, quiet, fucker.”

Flipping my eyes open, I spy two shadows pass the room and continue on.

“Seriously, I need you, fuck,” Max growls, the timber of his voice easily recognizable.

“Whatever, you’ll get dick in a minute,” Jason says, and I sigh.

My stupid-as-fuck brother and Jason…again.

Rolling off the sofa, I peek around the corner and, when the coast is clear, hightail it the other direction. I don’t know how to express the sheer disgust I feel for them both, Max for knowing I have issues with Jason and Jason for blackmailing me but feeling free to fuck my brother.

Seriously, this is grade A soap opera shit right here.

Passing through the living area, I pause at the door to the billiards room, spying Griffin alone inside, and I hesitate, which is just enough time for him to look up and spot me.

With a smirk, he raises his pool stick, and I stare, fighting the twin feelings of hate and lust as he raises a mocking brow in challenge.

Fuck it.

Grudgingly I step inside as he says with a sexy lip curl, “What are the stakes this time?”

Shrugging, I say, “I win, and you have to skip sex for the remainder of the week.”

His brows raise to his hairline before he frowns, which drops away with an unholy gleam behind his eyes. “Fine. I win, and you do whatever I say for the week.”

“Anything?” I ask uneasily.

Sensing my discomfort, he searches my expression, his eyes losing the devilish gleam, before he says, “Yes.”

“Okay,” I whisper because I saw that softening, and it’s inspiring me to be an idiot.

With his customary arrogance back in place, he racks up the balls and waves for me to go first. Stepping around him, I lean over the table to line up my shot. But just as I’m pulling back, he leans over me and adjusts my angle as he whispers in my ear, “I’m going to enjoy fucking you tonight.”

Gritting my teeth and ignoring the pulse in my core, I make the shot and hit the felt, the balls scattering every which way.

“Too bad,” he says with a smirk.

Glowering at him, I step away, eyeing him speculatively as he grabs his pool stick up with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Okay, I can play this game.

Smiling, I pull my tank top over my head to reveal my bathing suit underneath as I murmur, “Is it hot in here?”

He watches me with laser intensity as I run my finger down my throat and between my breasts, zeroing in on my nipples, tight in my top, before he turns back and makes the shot, one solid ball miraculously making it into the pocket.

With eyes blazing with triumph, he looks up at me and I pulse delicately. “Solids.”

A shiver curls down my spine at his victorious look, and stepping back, I lean on the table behind me and arch my chest, a thrill running through me when his eyes darken with fire.

He misses his next shot, and I take mine, both relieved and disappointed when he doesn’t approach me. With two balls down, I wait for his turn, leaning over the table as he does and giving him a nice view of my tits, aching for his touch.

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