Page 103 of Illicit Games

“Last year, they lied and went to Vegas behind our backs,” shares Nova, leaning against the wall. “We found them partying with strippers.”

“And?” I sense he’s holding back on the details.

“Iris got a lap dance and put money in the stripper's G-string.” His grin widens. “With her teeth.”

Is he really talking about my rainbow?

Dash reads my mind, smirking. “Don’t get fooled by her innocent face, she’s just as bad.”

The more they share, the more my hackles rise. “Open up.”

Inserting the key, he unlocks the door. I enter first, my heart racing at the shitty day ending as soon as I see her beautiful face. I want to hug her, listen to her tell me all about her day, and fuck her into oblivion.

Except, the second my ears pick up on the techno music, the kind my little rainbow would never be caught listening to, and the closer I get to the living room, I realize there’s truth to Dash and Nova’s warning.

A few seconds later, the three of us come to a screeching halt.

“Yeah,” mutters Nova, “I am not liking this.”

The room is utter chaos.

Two empty wine bottles and one that’s half full sit on the coffee table, while the floor is littered with bags of chips and other snacks.

“What is happening?” comes from Dash.

The girls are all doing their own thing.

Bianca is on a makeshift ladder made up of a chair and a stool on top, teetering on its legs and looking seconds away from falling, while she reaches for the painting mounted on the wall. Except her aim is all off because the painting is on her right, while she has her left arm raised and searching on the opposite side.

Dash is by her side in a flash, hauling her down before she falls and breaks her neck. “Jesus, kitten. What are you doing?”

“No! I was so close. I have to redecorate the place.”

“We don’t live here anymore, wifey.”

My eyes stray to my girl lying on the couch, her hair fanned out below, and gazing at the TV screen so raptly that she’s oblivious to the mayhem around her. Her head bobs to the beat of the music.

Warmth spreads through my chest as I take a step toward her.

“Hubby!” cries Rosa, jumping to her feet with the bag of marshmallows in one hand and her phone in the other. “You’re here! Why didn’t you pick up my call? I wanted to order some snacks. I’m so hungry.”

How?I wonder as my shoes crunch the dozens of empty packets of chips.

“You never called, Rose.”

“Yes, I did! Look! I’m calling you now.”

“The phone’s dead, sweetheart.”

How drunk are they?

At her friend’s chirpy voice, Iris’s head snaps in my direction. Our eyes lock. Her face brightens, her blush deepening and blue eyes softening as a breathtaking smile curves her lush lips.

My future flashes before me.

This feeling of happiness and contentment is what I’m going to come home to every night.

“Mr. Severe!”