Page 266 of A Vicious Love

“Oh, baby. Don’t cry because of me.”

A laugh broke in my throat. “That’s a little late.”

“I don’t deserve you. After everything I’ve done,” he added, “I don’t deserve you trusting me because I decided to finally use my brain.”

The tears burned harder. I wiped one quickly, embarrassed by it, but he caught my hand gently and lowered it.

He brushed the tear away with his thumb.

His eyes locked with mine, as he sank down in front of me, one knee on the rug between my feet, bringing his face lower than mine.

Jamison Crow knelt.

In front of me.

His hands rested on either side of my hips on the mattress.

“But I’m here for you. Only you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

JAMISON

Lake activities began the next day, which sounded charming until it became clear the Bellemeres took lakeside recreation as seriously as lesser families took coups.

There were striped umbrellas along the grass. White picnic blankets set out. Silver trays of sandwiches under glass domes. Lemonade in cut-crystal dispensers. Towels folded in stacks. Boats drawn up near the jetty.

Children released in supervised packs, shrieking toward the shallows. I stood beneath one of the umbrellas with a cigarette between my fingers and watched Sienna walk down the grass in a black bikini.

The day improved.

Dramatically.

She wore a sheer white wrap skirt low on her hips, tied at one side, which did absolutely fucking nothing to hide the shape of her. Black straps around her neck. A slim little waist. Dancer’s legs. Hair braided back from her face with a white ribbon woven through it.

Then she turned to say something to Sabine’s oldest daughter, and I saw her ass.

The bikini bottom sat high and small, framed by the sheer wrap, tight enough that my entire body went quiet in the way men went quiet before doing something regrettable. Ballet had built that ass with discipline. Every step made the wrap shift over her hips, giving me just enough to become religious about suffering.

She bent to pick up a child’s dropped sunhat.

I took a slow drag from my cigarette.

Reasonable men looked away.

I had never been accused of that defect.

“Crow.”

I kept watching Sienna.

“Crow.”

Still watching.

A small hand tugged at the side of my black linen shirt.

I looked down.