Stealing the Bride

I hold on to him, an anchor in a maelstrom of sensation. When I shudder with another incandescent climax, he screams my name and joins me.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Court

I run my fingers along the beautiful curve of Skittles’ spine as we lie on the couch. Her chest rises and falls gently.

“It’s really tiring, all this taking advantage of people,” she mumbles against my chest.

My lips twitch. I flatten them into a sober line. “It is.”

She taps her index finger right over my heart. “Just so we’re clear, I took advantage of you.”

“Yup,” I say agreeably. “All I did was lie here.”

To be honest, I don’t know who took advantage of whom. We were chasing our pleasure, pushing each other to it, while I did my damnedest to erase every bit of pain in her heart.

But none of that matters. After the career she worked so hard to build imploded in her face, she probably needs to feel in control again. And I don’t mind at all that she’s using me.

The notion makes me pause. I never thought I would let anybody exploit me again after what happened with Mom. God knows, she used me for almost two decades to soothe her pain without really dealing with it like a responsible adult. It didn’t matter how I felt…how anybody in the family felt.

But the funny thing is, even though Skittles is using me, I don’t resent it. She’s independent and strong—hell, she didn’t even want me to pay for the hotel or lunch. I know this is just her leaning on me for a moment until she centers herself again. And I like it that she can be strong on her own. I don’t want her to want me because she’s helpless without me. I want her to want me because she likes me as a person, not as a crutch.

My phone, sandwiched between us in my pocket, buzzes.

Skittles shifts, her eyebrows arching. “That is some strong vibration. You’ve been holding out on me.”

“Haha, not a toy. It’s a call.”

She starts to sit up. “You need some privacy?”

“No.” I pull the vibrating gadget out of my pocket and see that it’s Edgar.

Every three months, he calls to ask me to come home to talk with Dad. He’s doing it because that’s what Dad’s been asking him to, and our father can be pretty persistent. If he could, he’d get all my exes, not just Tiffany, to guilt me into going back to Tempérane and taking a position at the company.

But sometimes he calls because of something truly urgent, and it hasn’t been quite three months since last time he asked me to come to Tempérane. So I feel like I should answer…just in case.

“What’s up, Edgar?” I say, keeping my voice brisk so he knows I’m busy.

“Where are you?”

I frown. It isn’t like him to skip all the social niceties. “Home. Why?”

“Oh, okay. I thought you might be on your way here.”

“Why would you think that?” He knows I’m not taking the job offer from Dad.

“The hospital call you about Mom?”

Oh, crap. I totally forgot. I squeeze my eyes shut and place a hand over them. “Yeah.”

“It turned out to be nothing. Just the usual drama. I went over, and she’s been discharged, no problem.”

“Thanks.” Guilt ripples through me anyway. I feel the weight of Skittles’ curious gaze.

“Also, if you don’t have a job or know what you want to do, consider taking a position at Blackwood Energy,” Edgar says in a flat, lifeless tone, as though he’s been given a line he

’s embarrassed to read in a play rehearsal.