Page 116 of Bitter Lies

Even though I just had an amazing orgasm, I moan and arch back against him as he grunts, pumping into me with steady strokes. I’m helpless to the onslaught as need surges through me, and I mewl into my arms.

Grabbing my hips, he thrusts into me rapidly, canting them down slightly until he’s brushing my sweet spot, and it brings me right back to the edge.

“You’re so tight and sweet,” he groans, and I explode.

“Fuck,” he exclaims, hammering into me until he spews before collapsing across my back as he pulses inside me.

Panting into my pillow, I close my eyes, exhausted, barely registering his movements as he pulls from me, settles me back in his arms, and sighs.

∞∞∞

The following morning, I wake alone and jump into the shower, caught up in thoughts of Griffin’s proclamation and insistence on sleeping with me.

Of course, it could just be about sex, but he did sleep with me after until he disappeared this morning, but he’s an early riser, always has been, so I’m left with no answers on that front.

When we were kids, he’d often rouse me long before I was ready, bright-eyed and raring to face the day while I stomped around grumpily until I woke up. He always teased me for it and somehow knew just how to make me smile.

Back then, I might have believed his feral declarations, but now I’m caught between wanting to believe he wants me and being suspicious about the entire thing. Besides, insisting this is just about sex leaves me turned on and angry.

I’m not a toy, and this may be just fun for him, but it’s my heart on the line again. Does he see what he does to me? Is this another punishment?

Either way, he’s in for a rude awakening because I’m not going to roll over and be his plaything for however long he doesn’t want to share.

Would it kill him to be the slightest bit romantic? Fucker.

Emerging from the shower, I dress hurriedly and forgo makeup because I refuse to make myself pretty, even though the urge around him is something I’ve been fighting for years.

Stepping into my room, I pause with my towel wrapped around my hair when I hear voices, one of which is distinctly feminine, from the other room.

My eyes go wide before narrowing with rage, and I drop the towel to the floor, my wet hair sticking to my neck as I swing toward the door.

What? I’m supposed to wait around for him while he fucks whoever he wants? I don’t fucking think so!

“I was surprised to see your car in the drive,” Miranda says, and I clench my jaw because I like Miranda, I do, but the bitch was fucking my brother, and still she’s panting after Griffin? Pick a lane!

“Unexpected change of plans,” he rumbles.

“So, maybe we can spend some time together,” she says softly, and my stomach clenches hard.

Before either of them can respond, I appear in the doorway, my eyes turning cool when I see them standing together in the kitchen, Griffin holding her hand against his chest.

“Am I interrupting?” I ask, pulling up my best Griffin I-don’t-give-a-fuck expression.

Griffin turns his head, his eyes lighting up with amusement and, dare I say it, desire as I lean against the jamb with a shark-like smile.

Miranda turns to me with a friendly smile. “Hey, Halsey.”

“Hey,” I grunt, drilling Griffin with my stare.

Raising a brow, he drops Miranda’s hand but doesn’t move, not so much a foot away from her as he dares me to say something.

Why is this always a game to him? How can he fuck me and entertain the thought of her? And why do I allow it? Fuck.

Glancing between them, I ignore my impulse to walk away and say casually, a thrill sliding down my spine when Griffin’s eyes darken in warning, “Hey, Miranda, didn’t you say you dated Jason?”

Her face drops before she smiles, but my stomach clenches at the look because fuck me if it doesn’t seem familiar.

“Yeah, freshman year of high school,” she says, avoiding my gaze as her eyes darken.

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