Page 80 of Painted Truths

I send a smug smile his way. "Yeah. Only fair I can give you a nickname since you insist on calling me Peaches. Which, FYI, I still don't understand? I don't even like peaches!"

"Well," he says, chuckling, "obviously, I'm referring to your peachy bottom, aren't I, baby!"

Waggling his eyebrows at me, he reaches around with both hands to palm the body part in question before using it to drag me closer. Then, turning my head to the side and, in doing so, exposing my neck, he takes it as an invitation to bite the sensitive area where my neck meets my shoulder, sending a shiver of desire straight to my core.

I suck in a breath sharply, then tell him, "It's what I called you in my head at Velvet, if you must know. The night we met. Henry McHottie. ’Cause you're… ugh, you know you're insanely hot."

Drawing back, he smirks an entirely too broad shit-eating grin. "Don't you fucking know it."

"And modest too!" I snort.

We laugh as Henry throws his arm over my shoulder, and we round the corner at the end of the courtyard. My eyes widen in shock as he comes to a standstill, forcing me to stop alongside him.

Caden is front and centre on a lounger, naked as the day he was born, covered barely by an acoustic guitar that he's gently strumming. I don't recognise the melancholy tune he's softly singing, but it sends a jolt of sadness straight to my heart.

Tearing my eyes from him, I see the other four members of Misdirection are lying around the pool on loungers, buck naked. Two of them are taking turns being sucked off by a stunning Amazonian woman while two other women are writhing together on another lounger in a sixty-nine position, one obviously pregnant.

Holy motherfucker!

My eyes bulge from their sockets while my jaw hits the floor as Caden North’s big baby blue laughter-filled eyes find mine. His mouth turns up in a ridiculously handsome smile as he takes in our arrival.

Henry moves before I do. Grabbing my hand, he spins us and turns back the way we'd come, shouting as he does.

"North, you prick, I'm going to fucking murder you."

Loud, boisterous laughter follows us as Henry leads me inside to an open living area that really needs a feminine touch. It's all dark browns and leather with the shades closed, and it smells of old books.

Just then, Nate walks through the door.

"Ah. So, you've found Cade, then."

Huffing out a sigh, Henry groans, "Yup. And some things never fucking change."

Nate chuckles darkly. "They asked if I'd like to join, but you know me. Quiet as a church mouse."

Henry's answering laughter comes straight from his belly. It's so unrestrained and… happy. It's the most pleasant sound my ears have ever heard, and I greedily gather it up as I know it's a sound he doesn't make often enough by half.

"I see Layla is still fucking anything that moves."

The hinges on my jaw will need replacing with all the revelations I've been privy to lately.

"Yup, but Cade says that he's okay with it so long as it's not another dick. Whatever floats his boat. If you ask me, he just wants to make sure she doesn't do a runner with his fucking kid still inside of her. He says he loves her, so..."

He trails off, both men's eyes landing on me simultaneously.

My eyes are wide, lips clamped tight between my top and bottom teeth. The very picture of innocence, I'm sure.

"I can keep my mouth shut, okay. Pinkie promise!"

Taking in what I'm positively sure is my biggest oh shit! face, the two boys laugh uproariously at my blatant discomfort.

We spend two hours in the den, which I'm surprised to learn had belonged to Nate before he sold Isla De La Cruz to Caden for the low, low price of one pound.

One damn pound!

Nate's family had owned it since before he was born, but when his father had passed away a little over a year ago, the entire Hawthorne estate, which I'd come to realise is quite substantial, had been left to Nate.

Not that he wanted any of it, hence selling an actual island for a quid. But I learned his reasons were extremely justified.