DECEIT (B723) by Hazel Grace (ebook reader for surface pro .TXT) 📕

that we dodged a lifetime of fancy parties and gatherings that I have no impulse to attend.

Except, Emmy would be there. What else would I really require at that point?

“Can I get you something to drink, Em?” I ask, my question coming out like a carnal growl of appreciation and definitely need.

Undoubtedly need.

“Uhh…” I threw her off, and I love when I can. It doesn’t happen often, but when Em can lose her words, it’s victorious. “Yeah, sure.”

“You wanna show me where you keep the liquor?” I’m fully aware of where it is. Beckett gave Marty and I a full breakdown of how old their whiskey, wine, and bourbon were. Like Marty and I check the bottles before we buy.

Mills lets go of her arm then finds the company we’ve been keeping.

His lips curl into a sinister smile.

He loves fucking around with people, and I definitely let him because I’d rather not speak to anyone besides the woman in front of me.

I sometimes wonder if the other guys see it.

If they can read me as much as I can them when it comes to the little blonde that we all want to protect in some capacity.

Blue is a different breed of woman, I’d always conserve her life like I would anyone else that belongs to B723, but she handles herself like the boys. She prefers not to be coddled and breathed upon.

Granted, Emmy doesn’t either, but she doesn’t seem to mind it as much as she bitches about.

Shit, we can’t be half as bad as the Beckett asshole who still sits behind me.

Emmy pivots on her heels and starts for the inside of the house that smells like clean laundry. Candles are lit on every single surface of the family room, giving it a homey feel even though the high ceilings and enormous amount of space are anything but to me.

Off the space is a small bar-like area, tucked away for whatever reason. I would call this a closet, but it’s the size of a modest bedroom with a bartop, liquor bottles on the shelves behind it, a fireplace, and some leather chairs that offset the white throughout the whole house.

“Did you see your room yet?” Emmy asks me as she rounds the bar, plucking up a glass and turning to see what her options are.

I nestle up at her side, chest pressed into her clothed bicep as I take the glass out of her hand, feeling the subtle shudder of her body.

“I told you that I’d get you a drink,” I impart, peering down at her and inhaling the smell of peaches radiating off of her.

I’m practically frothing at the mouth to taste her.

It must be the delicious and expensive whiskey, but the urge to plop her ass on this bartop and stand between her legs is on my wishlist right now.

Ever since she showed up in Pittsburgh with my dog, it’s been harder to get her out of my head. Before, I kept myself busy with B723 shit. I could partly keep myself away from her and my mind from wandering to inevitable things.

Earlier, when I told Em I was a selfish prick, and I meant it. She has no reason to be married to me, and I have every one to let her go.

Except I love her.

And Emmy hauls me out of being the strong one between us. The individual that doesn’t care or need anyone. It’s all untrue when all I want is a life with her—as ordinary or unconventional as she claims we are and will be.

“I’m the hostess,” she quips, still keeping her concentration on the various bottles of overpriced booze. “I should be handling—”

“It’s your birthday—“ I stand in front of her blocking her view of shit I don’t need, and press her into the bartop. ”—and I should be handling this ass in my hands and trailing a wet path down your neck with my tongue.”

Emmy blushes and—fuck me—those brown eyes hit my cock’s response to what I was just talking about.

“Where’s my room, Ems?”

“Upstairs.”

No shit. 

A cocky smirk plays off my features, and I don’t bother to make it fall.

No, I love to see Emmy bothered by the random shit I say.

“Wanna show me?”

Her brows knit. “You didn’t want your drink?” I shake my head because I have other wants right now.

I want Emmy’s legs wrapped around my neck as I give her a birthday orgasm before giving her another one with my dick if she feels so inclined.

“Are you having a horrible time?” The slight disappointment in her voice, I want to wipe it clean.

Whether she’s in a place I don’t want her to be, or somewhere that we have to be together, I’m never having an abhorrent time if she’s in the room.

“Just forgot where it was. Your house is too big.”

“Alright then.” Emmy steps to the side, pulling herself out of the sandwich I created between me and the island and leads me to the second story.

The stairs are a dark and shiny marble getting me to wonder how she ever ran around as a kid without busting her ass on the floors. How cute she’d look in little dresses like Madelyn, causing havoc and shit.

We turn to the left and down the lengthy hall, doors on either side of us as she gets to the end before pivoting and gesturing with her hand, “This is it. One long walk down, one hallway.”

“Where’s yours?” I press, looking back at the rooms we passed along the way.

“You don’t want to see it, trust me.”

“Why not?” I bring my neck around to see her fidgeting with her fingers. “I should know what room my hostess is staying in, in case I need something.”

Her eyes narrow. “Kace Bishop you never need anything.”

“Not true.” I shake my head, erasing a step towards her. “I always have this pestering and overly strong feeling to fuck this certain blonde all the time.”

I see her swallow before she crosses her arms defensively along her chest, playing