My Beautiful Poison (Wicked Poison 1)

Glancing away, I take a seat on his couch.

My underwear may be slightly wet.

And my heart is beating erratically.

But it’s surprisingly the most comfortable I have been in a long while.

Chapter 8

August

She doesn’t seem bothered that my place isn’t a palace, which I know is what she’s used to. Rylee is used to the finer things in life. I don’t think she’s ever had to live without them. Her parents are not only some of the wealthiest people in this town, but the country, and she works for them. Rhianna, however, is happy to work at a coffee shop. They are like chalk and cheese.

Rylee works at her father’s accounting firm, so I hear, and I also hear she’s good.

Stepping over to her, I carry my own food plus two beers. I place one in front of her, and to my surprise she takes it, pops the top, and puts it to her lips.

“You don’t watch much TV?” she asks after taking a sip and setting the bottle down. She cuts into her steak with my blunt-ass knife and puts a piece into her mouth.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because the remote isn’t here, unless I’m blind.” She checks around before her dark eyes land back on me.

“No, no, I do not. Paige probably takes the thing with her for all I know.”

“She would.” Rylee giggles and the sound is nice.

“Tell me, rich girl, why are you so dressed up? Were you planning to have dinner by yourself?” I ask, then bite into my steak. It really is a good fucking steak. Best I’ve ever had.

“I had a date with Anderson.”

“Ohhh, Anderson,” I say, resisting the urge to call him what he really is.

Fucking scum.

“Yes, but plans changed.” She doesn’t sound disappointed by that fact.

“Now you have better company,” I tell her, reaching for the last bit of her steak and putting it in my mouth.

She opens her pink lips to tell me off, then shakes her head. “Can you put a shirt on?” Her eyes scan my body, and I like it.

“Why?” I ask, swallowing my last bite and placing the plate down next to me.

“Because you have a guest.” Her face flushes red.

“And?” I reply, teasing her. “This is my house.”

She huffs and stands. Reaching for my plate, she takes them both to the kitchen, her heels clicking on the floor. I hear her cleaning them in the sink, and I’m more than a little surprised she even knows how to do that. Standing, I see her lost in thought, her head down and lips pursed, as she washes circles on the same plate over and over again.

“Why did your plans change with Anderson?” I ask, standing on the other side of the counter. She didn’t hear me approach. She’s that engrossed in what she’s doing.

When she glances up, her eyes, as dark as the night sky, stare at me. A part of me tells me I should look away, that what I see in those dark eyes doesn’t pull at every fiber of my being toward her.

But I can’t.

I stay, watching her. Waiting for her to answer me.

“He didn’t show,” she declares with a shrug.

“Told you he was an asshole.”

“I already know that,” she snaps at me.

“What was dinner for? Special occasion?”

She pulls the plate from the sink into the drainer then places the other in. And when she answers, she doesn’t bother to check for my reaction.

“I was trying to call it off, but he won’t let me.”

Okay, I did not expect that.

So I’m glad she can’t see the shock on my face.

“You don’t love Anderson?”

Now her eyes flash up, a single tear slides down her cheek, but she ignores it and acts like it didn’t just fall as she stares at me.

“I thought I did… once.” Her voice is filled with such sweet sorrow.

“You’re better than him anyway,” I tell her. This much I know from one conversation. How he got a girl like Rylee, I’ll never know.

I have a feeling she’s better than most men around this town.

Even me.

But I’m a selfish man, and even though I should tell her to go, not only because she has a boyfriend, who she clearly wants to leave, but because staring at her is my new favorite thing to do.

The curve of her face is almost heart-like, her lips pink, she tastes like cotton candy, and her eyes, dark as your nightmares.

“You’re only saying that because I brought you food.” She smirks, the tear falling into the water below as she turns off the running tap.

“Yeah. You can feed me anytime, baby,” I say, tapping my stomach. Her eyes fall to it, and her cheeks start to turn pink again.

I like it—a lot.

“How about you show me around. I’m sure you’ve done more. It’s so beautiful.” She isn’t lying when she says it. She truly thinks my home is beautiful. I don’t know how I can tell that, but I just can.