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It’s not worth it. You know the stakes
It’s my call
Don’t do this to us
Not once have I had control over this.
At first, it made me furious and enraged, but then I had to get over it. I had to honor Reese’s wishes until lying to Beau became a habit that’s killing me. I used to have my mom. She knew. She gave me advice.
But now?
It’s just me, about to start a life with an honest woman I’m falling for and the man I’ve always loved.
The man I’m lying to.
Blair rubs my arm like she can sense it when I join them for breakfast. “You’re quiet this morning.”
I peck her cheek. “Y’all wore me out.”
“But I thought blonds have more stamina.”
She makes me laugh. “But this blond never had him before.”
I grin, pointing my fork at Beau, and he grins back.
He’s changed. I’ve changed. Our sex rocked our world in the best way.
Yes, I want him to have me, too. It’s my turn, but part of me feels I don’t deserve him. Like I should punish myself.
A phone chimes in the living room. It’s Beau’s. It’s his alarm for our session. “Come on.” He pops up. “Doc will be on in fifteen.”
Beau does his usual, taking over the remote to click on the flatscreen and logging on to our session.
I help Blair clear the dishes while I catch her smirk. It’s devious.
We pile the dishes in the sink while Beau starts cursing, “Dammit!” He aims the remote like a gun. “What the fuck?’ He’s clicking, but nothing’s happening. “Do we have batteries?”
“Here.” Blair opens a side drawer in the kitchen.
But it’s too convenient.
How did she know where the AAs were being stored?
Quickly, Beau changes the batteries to the remote and steps toward the flatscreen, clicking some more. “Goddammit!” He sounds like Coach. His face is getting red like his, too. “Goddamn fucking remote.”
But he looks sexy when he’s mad, so I play along. “Maybe those batteries are dead, too.”
“Here.” Blair fishes for more from the drawer. “Try these.”
She sounds too sweet. She looks too helpful. Yes, our woman is a good one, but she ain’t innocent, and I adore that about her. I like her experience. Actually, I’m damn impressed with the professional working her craft before my eyes.
Beau’s a puppet, and Blair’s pulling his strings.
He rips the remote open again, tossing the innocent batteries to the floor before cramming in another pair.
“Damn,” I tease. “Is someone blowing a gasket over a gadget?”
“No, he’s an expert,” Blair coos like a desperate housewife. “What’s wrong with it, honey?”
