And that’s every time I’ve seen him.
He sits back in his chair, Paige next to him with a wide smile. Beckham glances from Paige to August. I can feel he’s intimidated by him. August can be intimidating, but I’m starting to see cracks in his hard exterior. Especially with the way he treats Paige. He respects and loves her. As I do Beckham.
“So, how long you two been dating?” August asks. I sit forward and grin. “Not you, rich girl. We all know that you and that loser have been together way past your expiration date.”
Beckham laughs next to me, and I elbow him.
Beckham well and truly agrees with his statement.
“I wasn’t going to mention my relationship, but since you seem so interested in it, what else would you like to know?”
“Guys,” Paige says, looking between us.
August ignores her and leans forward. I can smell the mint on his breath, and his strong, calloused hands sit between us. Surprisingly, though, his hands are clean.
I have to do my best not to stare at them while imagining those hands roaming every inch of my body.
“Why do you stay? I mean, you do have a mind of your own, and from what I’ve heard, Anderson isn’t all that good in bed.” August smirks. He has the audacity to smirk.
I try to contain my expression. But it’s hard not to give him my angry face.
“You know how he performs in bed. Interesting. Never really thought you would care about another man. Unless… you know, prison has changed you…” I say back to him, leaning in as well.
Ha, take that, asshole.
He glances down at my hands, then back up. “Oh, no, not at all. The pleasure of a woman is still what I crave. Would you like to appease me?”
“Guys,” Paige says again. “This is awkward as hell. Beckham and I are going to get some ice cream.” They stand, and neither of us turns our heads. Both our eyes are pinned on each other.
“No answer, rich girl? Don’t want to get your hands dirty by a man who doesn’t rely on his mommy and daddy’s money?” he teases. He sits back, satisfied with his answer, and crosses his arms over his chest with a gigantic smirk.
“I’m interested… very much so. Why don’t you come over here and kiss me?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I freeze. Because shock then a sly smirk are what creep across August’s face. It was simply word vomit, and it came out because I thought he’s like Anderson and would just shake his head and laugh at me.
But that was a mistake.
August and Anderson are nothing alike.
Not in the slightest.
August stands, pushes his chair back so hard it tips over, and walks to the seat my brother vacated not too long ago. I watch his strong hands grip the chair and pull it out. Then he sits his ass in it.
Fuck. What have I started?
I can’t even run.
Do I even want to, though?
The answer is simple—it’s a resounding no.
I would love to know how August kisses. If the rumors about him when we were growing up were true, August was the talk of many women’s lips, even mine. And that’s just from seeing him from afar.
“Last chance to back out, rich girl.” He leans in, vibrant green eyes flick from my lips to my eyes, then back again. I take a deep breath and manage to raise my eyebrows. I can barely hear the people around us as they talk. The noise seems to fade away when I stare at him.
How can I see only him?
When I’ve been lost in myself for so long?
“Your boyfriend might get jealous,” he whispers, all the while leaning closer. I can practically taste him on my lips, that minty smell assaulting my nose. “And I must warn you, I may not stop.” Again, his eyes pin my lips, and I start to close my eyes as he leans in closer. “I’m a starving man, rich girl, so you better run before I have a taste.”
None of his words are registering.
None.
Not one.
I sit waiting, wondering if those lips that are so plump, that tell stories, that call me names, will mark me any second now.
“August.”
“Hmm,” he replies, clearly not paying any attention to my words now.
I feel the first brush of him, and I’m not fast enough to catch a breath when he touches me.
It was a mistake.
Because when I breathe, I breathe him in, and I think I‘ve become addicted in one single second of him being near me.
Heavenly so.
“Oh my God!” I hear the squeak before his tongue meets mine, and we both pull away at the same time.
“Rylee.” I turn to see my brother staring at me. I don’t even bother looking at August. I’m stuck on the fact that my lips are pulsing with need for him.
Can you love half-kissing someone?
Because I think I love half-kissing August.
I stand, pushing my chair back.
“I need to go. Do you want a ride?” I ask Beckham.
Beckham turns his attention to Paige, then leans in and kisses her cheek before he nods and steps off. I glance at August, who’s watching me with narrowed eyes.
Like he’s trying to work me out.
Poison, that’s what he is.
My beautiful poison.
And I must stay away.
Men like him aren’t right for women like me.
But then again neither is Anderson.
Beckham stays quiet the whole ride home until we pull up to the front of our house. We both sit in silence as we stare at the large, white monstrosity.
“You need to break it off with Anderson,” Beckham says. “Not because you kissed another man, but because Anderson has laid his hands on you. And if you don’t do something soon, next time he does, I’ll come into your room with my bat and beat his fucking head in, and you won’t be able to stop me.” My mouth hangs open in shock at his words. I watch Beckham as he steps out of the car and hurries to our front door. He’s taller than me, the king of his high school, and now almost a man.
When did he grow up?
How did I miss that he isn’t my baby brother anymore, but now he’s a young man?
I reach for my phone and find Anderson’s number. It rings twice before he answers it.
“Babe, what’s up?” he says casually.
I grit my teeth as I reply to him, “Let’s have dinner tonight. Your favorite restaurant.”
“Umm, sure. What’s brought this on? You’ve hardly wanted to see me.”
“I’ll meet you there,” I tell him.
He agrees, then hangs up.
I take a deep breath, knowing that what I am about to do will probably be hard, but I hope that the right setting will ease the conflict.
Hopefully.
I sit at my seat like the perfect possession.
Yes, that’s all I am to him.
Nothing more than property he can use and abuse.
My legs are crossed, and my elbows aren’t touching the table as I wait for him to arrive.
He’s late. Of course, he is.
I check my phone as the waiter comes back around and offers me a drink.
“Wine, please.” He nods and steps off, probably feeling sorry for me.
Ha, don’t worry, I feel sorry for me.
No messages and no missed calls. It’s going on thirty minutes now, and I’m starving.
Pressing call, Anderson answers, and I can hear the music in the background.