I’d like to be on my way to drunk too. So I can forget. Forget everything that’s happened between Whit and me. He certainly forgets. He acts like I don’t matter, which hurts. More than I’d ever want to admit. I’m sure he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. How he destroys me with a few cutting words or rude gestures.
Such as not giving me an orgasm and then touching his date with my juices still on his fingers. Of course, I’m the one he just fucked in the bathroom, so I suppose I won this round?
I lurch forward in my seat as if I have no control of my body, the glass dangling from my fingertips before I bring it to my lips once more and sip more slowly. When I set the glass down, I see Sylvia watching me, her upper lip curled in barely restrained contempt.
“Sylvie, you shouldn’t drink anymore,” her mother scolds, her gaze cutting to her daughter. “You’re on medication that could be dangerous if you mix it with alcohol.”
“I’m not scared to die,” Sylvie proclaims just before she downs the rest of her wine, setting the glass onto the table with a giggle.
“You need to watch yourself too, young lady,” she says, her tone soft, but I hear the steel there, lying just beneath. “Don’t drink too much.”
“I’m good,” I say to her, sounding like a drunk idiot already.
“Leave her alone,” Whit snaps, making his mother’s eyebrows shoot up. “Worry about your daughter.”
“I’m fine,” Sylvie says, giving him the finger. “Worry about yourself, brother dearest.”
He bares his teeth at her in a feral smile, his gaze sliding to mine.
My entire body flushes hot, my core still throbbing. I’d do anything to drag him out of here and have him put his mouth on me. Specifically, between my legs.
He has a talented tongue and I miss it.
I glance over at their mother to find her smile is forced and she’s glaring down the table at Whit. I’m sure she didn’t approve of him telling her to leave me alone, but she doesn’t acknowledge the comment at all. “Please say you and Leticia are finally serious about each other.”
I’m still. Frozen. The entire table goes quiet at Sylvia’s words, and Sylvie giggles uncomfortably before she murmurs, “Way to put him on the spot, Mother.”
Leticia glances over at Whit and settles her hand over his. The very hand that touched me in my most intimate place only a few minutes ago. “He’s not that easy to capture,” she says with a light laugh, her gaze never straying from his handsome face. He doesn’t smile at her in return. It’s that same, stoic, unemotional expression. At least he treats all of us girls the same. “But I’ll get him someday.”
Oh this girl knows how to play it off. I could learn a thing or two from her, I’m sure.
Whit smiles tightly, his gaze alighting on every single person sitting at the table, lingering on me the longest. “I’m not ready to get serious yet, Mother. You know this. Stop putting me and Leticia on the spot. Let me enjoy my birthday dinner in peace.”
“A mother can dream. After all, I’m the reason you have a birthday in the first place,” Sylvia says, her voice sharp.
“You remind me of that almost daily,” Whit says, equally sharp.
I duck my head, wishing I was anywhere but here. This sort of thing makes me uncomfortable. The jabs. The insults. Innuendo. My mother loves this sort of thing. She’d fit right in.
Well, Sylvia would probably stab her with a steak knife if my mother dared to set foot near her, so maybe not.
A wistful sigh escapes Whit’s mother as she stares at the golden couple sitting next to each other. “You two are such a beautiful pair. I cannot wait to see the babies you’ll make one day.”
Despite the jealousy racing through my veins at her words, she’s not wrong. Whit and Leticia are stunning together. They would make beautiful babies.
“Jesus, Syl,” Augustus mutters under his breath.
She turns to glare at her ex. “What?” When he remains quiet, she prods him further. “If you have something to say, just say it.”
“The kid barely turned eighteen. He’s not thinking about marriage and babies yet. Give him a fucking break,” he says.
Her eyes flare with irritation. Sylvie giggles again, covering her mouth with her fingers. The smile on Leticia’s face is frozen in place. She’ll do anything to guarantee a spot within this family, I realize. Including keeping her mouth shut.
I chance a look at Whit.
His gaze is still on me, his eyes hungry. He licks his lips, and my pussy clenches, as if his tongue made a direct hit.
This is going to be a long dinner.
We’re in the town car headed back to the Lancaster residence after our birthday meal is finally over, just Sylvie and me. She sits slumped in the back seat, giggling to herself as she taps away on her phone. I check my phone as well, contemplating sending Whit a message, but what if Leticia saw it? Would she be mad?
Would he?
Besides, what can I say? Come meet me in my room later? I don’t think so. I don’t want to look desperate. And right now, that’s how I feel. Desperate. Needy.
Stupid.
I shouldn’t have come here with Sylvie. It’s too much, being with his family. Witnessing their dynamics, having to deal with him bringing another girl as his date. The girl he fully intends on marrying someday. He told me that himself.
Will she be here the entire week too? Will he sneak into her room and fuck her like he fucks me?
I can’t bear the thought.
“What happened when you went to the bathroom?” Sylvie asks me out of nowhere.
I go still, searching for the right thing to say.
“Did you fuck Whit?” she continues.
I jerk my head in her direction to find her watching me, her lips curled into a suspicious smile. “No,” I lie.
She tosses her head back and laughs. “Liar. You two are fucking on the low, and everyone knows it.”
Alarm races through me at her words. “What do you mean, everyone?”
Sylvie holds her hand up in front of her and starts counting. “My father. My mother. Leticia. Me. The server. The bartender.” She laughs, sounding pleased with herself. “It was super obvi, Summer. You ran out of the room when Whit was all over Leticia. Within a minute, Whit leaves too. You were both gone for a while. He returns first, his cheeks red and his hair mussed.”
I don’t remember touching his hair.
“And then you come slinking back in smelling of sin and you won’t look anyone in the eye.” Sylvie reaches out and pats my leg. “You’re playing with fire, my friend. And you’re going to get burned. My brother hurts people. I told you he has no heart.”
“What do you mean?” I ask warily.
“Whit is a disaster. All Lancasters are disasters. We’re cursed. We all hurt people eventually, even the ones we care about.” She hiccups. Giggles. Squeezes my knee. “My father was eyeing you with interest, did you notice? God, he’s such a perv.”
I knew I wasn’t imagining things. “I’m sure I just remind him of my mother.”
“That’s the problem. You remind him of his ex-mistress—no offense.”
“None taken,” I say.