Page 116 of A Lethal Game of Trust

“For you,” he said with a nod.

Coming from anyone else, I would have cringed. For him, I just picked up his boxers and waved them in the humid air to rid them of sand before placing them on the lounger. He’d already done up his shirt. Mostly.

While he dressed, I surveyed the beach. When I had come out here, it had been dead. Now, there were multiple groups down the shoreline. Had they seen us? Had they known who we were?

When it came to him, every rational thought vanished. I was hellbent on being the one to tell Issy, but I wasn’t very good at being secretive when it came to this man.

“I’ll go and wash up,” I said when he took my hand. He held my shoes in his other.

He snorted. “No, you won’t. I want my cum dripping out of you as you walk across that party and into my car. I want you to kiss goodbye to your little date, knowing you’ve just been fucked by me and I’m going to fuck you even harder as soon as we’re back in my flat.”

“I don’t want to kiss him,” I said, disgusted he would even suggest such a thing.

“Right answer.” He placed his palm on the small of my back and guided me over the decking, back towards the house. Thedeep bass of the music echoed against the palm trees. “I’ll grab your suitcase from your room. Meet me in the jag.”

“My shoes—”

“You’re normally barefoot by this point of the night,” he said as if he didn’t just know such a minute detail about me at these events. That I hadn’t attended for nearly two years. “It won’t go unnoticed, but it won’t be surprising.”

I looked at him then and he looked down, our eye contact told me he knew. His gentle scratching of my back just confirmed it.

“You only ever take your shoes off when you’re on the beach or drunk,” he said. “You’re always wearing something on your feet.”

The glass.

When I’d stepped on the glass and cut my feet, he’d been the one to help take out the shards.

He was right. I was never without something close to hand.

Despite groups of people smoking on the grounds, some of whom waved over at Dom, he didn’t let go of me or my heels.

My nerves grew from small little caterpillar flutters to roaring moths in my ribcage.

I was a bad person.

At the glass doors, he helped me into my shoes then bent to whisper in my ear, “See you on the other side. Don’t keep me waiting.”

And his parting gift was pulling on my earlobe with his teeth, forcing my eyes to roll back. By the time my gaze was righted, he was gone.

I really was a bad person.

I had no loyalty to Sam and he certainly had no loyalty to me. We just fucked. But even I knew leaving a date to go andfuck someone you were trying to make jealous the whole time was… not a classy move.

I was a bitch.

I’d used men for years. Not just Jared.

Maybe that’s why Dom and I could work. I was good for him, but I wasn’t inherently good. Neither was he.

We both used people to get what we wanted.

Keeping my thighs together so I didn’t leak everywhere —gross— I shuffled across the dancefloor to where Sam was still at the casino table with his friends from school.

“I’m going now,” I said, leaning on his shoulder.

He turned to face me with a frown. Not one of judgement but more concern as he tried to figure me out. “Going?”

I gave a nod, glancing at the archway through to the foyer.