My Beautiful Poison (Wicked Poison 1)

My phone rings and I answer it without checking. “What?” I bite into the phone.

“Well, fuck! You’re mad.” I pull the phone away from my ear. It’s a number I don’t recognize.

“Who is this?”

“August.” His voice is husky when he speaks.

“Why are you calling my phone? And how did you get my number?” I ask as my wine arrives. I take the glass and drink it all down in one go. Pity I’m driving, or I would have ordered the whole bottle.

“Paige got it from Beckham. Look… that won’t happen again.” He makes a guttural sound.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

The waiter arrives and asks if I would like to order.

“Where are you?”

“At a restaurant,” I tell him, and he goes silent.

“Are you there by yourself?”

“Well, that was not the plan.”

“So, that’s a yes,” he answers. “Do they have oysters. Bring me some.”

I cough.

“I’m hungry, and I’m sure you are, too. So bring some dinner to my place, rich girl, and I’ll keep you company.” He hangs up.

My head turns up to the waiter and I order. Then I order for August and ask for it all to be takeout.

What on earth am I doing? Something really fucking stupid, of that I’m sure.

He’s standing at the front door naked from the waist up when I arrive. It’s dark, but the front porch light is on, and he’s hanging some plants from the ceiling. He glances my way, wipes his hands on his jeans that hang dangerously low on his hips, and leans against the side of the house.

He watches me sit in the car, not moving.

I have to talk myself up into actually getting out of the car.

When I check back, he hasn’t moved, one hand holding his body up on the wall as the other hangs by his side.

Reaching for our food, I slide out. My heels are sky-high, which makes me as tall as him as I stride toward him. Green eyes stare down at me when I stop at the bottom step. It’s a large two-story home, and from what I remember, it didn’t look like this. It was run down, and no one had lived in it for years. Now, it’s got a fresh coat of paint and could pass for a house in my neighborhood.

“Wow! You have done so much to this old place. I love this.”

“Yeah, the wraparound porch is probably my favorite feature of the house. It had a few problems, but nothing a lick of paint and a few nails couldn’t fix.”

“It’s incredible.”

“That smells good,” August states.

“It does,” I reply and shake my head at my words.

August chuckles and reaches for the food, his bare chest coming dangerously close to my arm.

“You smell good, too, rich girl,” he whispers near my ear, then turns, taking the food with him as he runs in through the open door. I take a moment, brushing my hand down my soft pink dress, and tread up the stairs following him inside. Shutting the door behind me, my eyes check around. The place is nice. He doesn’t have a lot, but it’s clean. I can smell the scent of fresh paint everywhere.

“This looks really good,” I say, my head turning around in all directions, checking his handiwork.

There’s a single three-seater couch that sits in front of the television.

“Nothing compared to what you’re used to, I’m sure.” I roll my eyes at his comment as I make my way to the kitchen. When I see the pastries, which I know are from Paige, I smile widely.

“She’s a good cook, that sister of yours.”

August lifts out the steak and gravy, sliding his finger through the gravy and sucking it off his finger. He watches me while he does it.

“I haven’t had a steak for years, not one this good anyway.”

“I figured you would want more than oysters,” I reply as he opens the container filled with oysters.

“Two steaks?” he asks while checking the third container.

I reach for it. “That’s mine.” I pick it up, which makes him chuckle.

“No salad?” he teases.

“I like steak.” Searching around for a knife and fork, I open one drawer and find the utensils. Reaching for two, I give him his while he holds out a plate.

“I like pussy, do you?”

I cough, catching my breath. I take the plate from his hand, and when I look up at him, his eyebrows are raised, and his eyes are dancing with mischief.

“Usually, it’s cock that slides into my mouth. Can’t say I have had the pleasure of pussy, yet.” I slide the juicy steak onto my plate, and when I manage to glance up, I seem to have him frozen in position.

It’s as if he’s trying to work me out.

“You don’t talk to other men this way, do you?”

I wink. “No, my foul mouth only seems to come out just for you.”

“I’m sure that’s not all that I could make come,” he whispers but knows I hear him because he stares at me as he places an oyster into his mouth and sucks it out of the shell, never breaking eye contact.