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“He’s there in front of you, isn’t he?” Rhett says with way too much glee.
Asshole. He’s going to fuck with me.
“Yep. I should go.”
“Not yet.” The tone his voice takes sends a shiver down my spine and I should be hanging up on him, but instead, I want to hear what will come out of his mouth next. My heart’s racing and my dick is interested. “Does he know that you’re mine?”
I’m not fucking yours, Rhett.That’s what I want to say but can’t with Scott sitting right there. We haven’t had to pretend in front of people who aren’t complete strangers yet. “He knows,” I tell him.
“Good. Now say, love you, baby and then I’ll let you go.”
“Rhett.”
“Now.”
Holy fuck. Why is that a turn on? Like, I’ll definitely strangle him later, but it’s still hot.
“Love you, baby.” It’s damn near breathless, leaving my lips.
“Remember, discretion, beautiful scorpion.”
Ha! I can’t wait to tell him later how much that ship has already sailed by this point. When I get off the phone, Scott’s staring at me, and I can’t quite read his expression. Turned on or disbelief? Maybe both.
“That’s the guy who’s going to share you?”
I’m going to fucking skewer Rhett.
Could he hear Rhett too, or is he drawing the likely conclusion from what he could hear on my end? Either way, I’ve learned to be a lot more careful after this little outing.
I run a hand through my hair. “It’s complicated.”
He shrugs. “Lucky for you, Logan, I like complicated.”
* * *
Ihunt down my “loving boyfriend” after coffee with Scott. I know where he is since our schedules are now shared in some family calendar-type app. Another Elkington thing. It’s not shared with the whole family, just Rhett and I—for now, thank God—but I’ve been told that with their busy schedules, it makes planning family events easier. We’ll eventually be connected to the whole family.
I wasn’t sure about it at first, but I quickly grew to like it. There’s something reassuring about knowing where someone is in case you need them. It’s especially useful today. He’s having his haircut at the fancy salon he goes to on Granville Street.
His eyes widen when he sets them on me, but only for a fraction of a second. He can’t give away that he didn’t know I was coming. He’s just getting up from the chair, still with the haircut cape-y thing draped around him, but he looks … kindawow, actually. His hockey hair is trimmed. Still long on top and around the edges, reaching his nape, but cleaned up.
He fucked with me and now it’s time for payback. I’m going to give everyone a little show.
There’s a flicker of fear that moves across him—he doesn’t have a clue as to what I’m going to do—and that scares and excites him at the same time.
Thing is, I’m not sure what I’m going to do either. Sometimes what comes out of me when I’m with him surprises me.
Inspiration hits. He wants a besotted boyfriend? Coming right up.
I race toward him and jump without warning so that he’s forced to catch me. I lock my ankles together behind him, squeezing into his ass with the heels of my boots. “Hey, baby. I missed you so damn much, had to stop by. Hope you don’t mind.”
Before he can respond, I grab his face and kiss the fuck out of him, initiating for the first time. I remember Jack saying that Rhett hates displays of affection. This’ll teach him.
It’s easy to read the shock in his hesitant lips, but he calls my bluff, sinking into the kiss.Damn.The man can kiss. And I don’t know why Merc hates the scent of his Tom Ford. It’s spicy and woodsy at the same time—I wanna drown in it. I let myself fall into his mighty arms and inhale the kiss as he deepens it, dominating my mouth and even letting his tongue slip inside. I pull away, dazed, marveling at his perfect face. How the hell does he deserve to have a jawline like that?
“Don’t mind at all if I’m going to get greeted like that. Let me pay and I’ll take you to an early dinner.”
Every jealous eye in the place burns into us, adoring us as much as they hate us for being so “perfect” together. Do they really believe our bullshit?
