Savage Little Lies (Court Legacy 2)

Thatcher snapped after. “Well, considering my boy is in love… I’d say that’s a given.”

My heart stopped, and Dorian sneered in his direction.

Thatcher raised his hands. “Please, bro. You didn’t even have to tell us.”

“It’s so goddamn obvious.” Wells stated this from his seat on the only other couch in the room. He lounged on it, his leg over one of the arms. He had his thumbs speed-typing across his phone and hadn’t even looked up. “Like ridiculously obvious.”

I nearly fell off Dorian’s lap when he shot a pillow at Wells so hard the guy fell to his ass on the floor. He like legit rolled off the couch, his phone flying. Dorian had apparently put some oomph into it, and Thatcher exploded in so much laughter he almost fell off the couch. Dorian directed a finger at Wells. “You shut the fuck up, or I’ll make you shut the fuck up.”

“Jesus, bro. I was just messing with you.” Wells rubbed his bottle-blond locks, his grin wiry. He got back on the couch. “I mean, this is only love in your direction.”

“Yeah.” Dorian growled it before his arms cradled me back into him. He glanced my way. “Sorry.”

Both his look and tone were apologetic, and I hated that. I hated that he felt sorry. Even if he hadn’t been talking to his friends about us.

I said nothing, and at this point, the room had settled enough where no objects were being thrown about. Bow sat at my side, but before Ares took a seat himself, he stood in front of the room. He clasped long fingers on his big arms. “And with that, we got some fucking rules tonight.” He directed a look at Thatcher and Wells. “Especially with you two fuckers.”

Thatcher and Wells exchanged a glance, and Ares snarled.

“The last time we got together, shit got crazy, and I’m not trying to clean up after you fools.” Ares ticked a finger. “So rule number one is you eat off anything, you fucking clean it.”

Wells snorted. “Well, that means Thatcher will be in the kitchen all fucking night.”

Picking up Dorian’s discarded pillow, Thatcher shot it at Wells, but Wells was quicker this time. He caught it, then reached over and slammed it on Thatcher’s head. Thatcher firmly lost his shit, and the only thing keeping him from retaliating was Ares’s bark at the front of the room.

&n

bsp; Ares glared at the two. “Rule number two is no one outside of this room is coming in this house. Which means no calling fuck buddies over.”

Thatcher kicked his boot at Wells. “Wells, you better take your ass home, brother. We know he’s talking about you.”

Wells clicked his tongue. “The fuck ever and don’t get jealous because my fuck buddy pool is a ten when yours is like a five—at best.”

“Who haven’t both you two assholes fucked?” Ares’s brow lift was slow. “I’m still trying to get the stains out of shit the pair of you left the last time you were here.”

“Me too.” Dorian lifted a finger. Dorian tipped his chin at Thatcher. “And, Thatch, we all know the rule applies to both of you.”

Thatcher frowned. “What we all know is we’re not the only ones.” Thatcher waved a hand between him and Wells.

Wells’s smile was coy when he placed it in Dorian’s direction. He eyed him. “At least that used to be the case for all of us.”

Dorian’s smile wiped away. He sat up, but when I shifted, he stayed in place. I glared at Wells. “You, fucker, are a cocky son of a bitch.” I glanced at Thatcher. “Same goes for you, and there’s nothing wrong with not having to get your dick wet whenever the invitation’s open.” My eyebrows narrowed. “So why don’t you both lay the fuck off Dorian? Off us?”

They had no right, but what I hadn’t expected was both Thatcher and Wells to angle back.

Nor gain the rest of the room’s attention.

Dorian had his brow up, obviously surprised by me jumping in and defending him.

You defended both of you.

Wells raised his hands. “Sorry, princess,” he said before nodding at Dorian. “It seems we’ve crossed your queen.”

“And don’t do it again.” Dorian’s hand settled at my waist. He smiled at me, and something about it felt knowing. Something else about it had butterflies buzzing in my stomach.

They weren’t bad.

“So rule number three, then,” Ares said, watching us. He nodded. “No wandering the house and getting into shit. I don’t need anything fucking broken, and my parents getting on me for it. You respect my stuff and my space.” He glanced my way. “And I respect you.”