Page 6 of Amour Fou (Deepest Desires #2)
G et me Annalise Keating on the phone now, because I need to get away with murder, and with the way she trudges into a courtroom…
I know she will get me off. Because what the fuck just happened.
How did I go from the possibility of getting my dick wet…
to losing that chance and wondering if my hand will give me the same pleasure her pussy would have.
“I’m going to kill him,” I mutter, opening the door to my room and slamming it behind me. I need to shower and get this chlorine off my skin and maybe calm down a little before I drag him back to the pool and drown him. A knock comes from the bedroom door before I even make it into the bathroom.
Groaning with frustration, I walk back to the door and yank it open, only to see Zeke standing there. “What?”
“Xaden, grow up.” He rolls his big brown eyes at me. I can see why women lose their shit over him when he’s so unbothered like that. “You know this shit can’t run.”
“She is literally offering us a one-time thing, the thing I’m so clearly good at.
No strings!” I grip the doorframe. I’m not angry at him, I’m just frustrated because it’s been months since I’ve seen a stitch of pussy, what with these new bullshit rules Deckard implemented, and this time…
I wasn’t even chasing. She made the move first.
Sighing, Zeke moves past me and walks into my room.
“Oh, please… do come in.”
“I’m not standing in the hallway arguing with you like a married couple.”
Closing the door, I turn to face him. “You’re literally passing up an opportunity… to fuck… HER!” He laughs.
“If we get caught—”
I walk towards him. “We won’t get caught,” I groan, because I can see it as clear as day that he wants her too.
“If we do, we are out on our fucking asses.”
“ Pshh .” I roll my eyes, dismissing his statement. “Deckard won’t do shit; I’ve cleaned up my act.”
“Yet here you are trying to convince me to do it.”
“So, you don’t think she’s hot?” I ask him.
“Hold on, I didn’t say—”
“And you don’t, at all, want to put your dick,” I point to it, and he slaps my hand away, “anywhere near her?”
“Stop putting words in my mouth.”
“So, then what’s the problem?”
“The fucking loss of a well-paid job, asshole!”
“Y’know,”—I narrow my eyes, wagging my finger in his face—“I’m getting a little tired of all this negativity.”
He groans at me. “There’s clearly no talking to you.” He stands from the bed and makes his way to my bedroom door. “Fucking the staff is a no-go. So, grow up and deal with it.” And with that, he yanks open the door and leaves, slamming it behind him.
“Stop slamming doors, asshole!” I call.
Walking into the bathroom, I turn the shower on and jump in, letting the ice-cold water cascade over my body, washing away the work and stress from today. The only thing creeping into my mind is the thought of the red-haired beauty sleeping in the West Wing.