Page 18 of Professional Liar
I was prepared to fight him on this. “It’s our home.”
“You’re right. It is our home. But nothing is more important than family.”
“I’m family, too, now.”
He slapped his chair down and leaned in. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You’re family now. I’m family. The family is family. Bianca is family. We protect each other at any cost.”
I swallowed against the wave of nausea rolling around in my gut. In my family, they protected each other, but only as far as it helped themselves. Case in point, my mother. Everyone was perfectly content to look away while he treated her like shit, or risk his wrath.
I started eating again and swallowed. He still stared, and I glanced up at him over my plate. “I’m not done talking about this,” I warned.
“Of course you aren’t.”
“I need clothes, though. Until we figure out”—I waved my fork around again—“this whole thing.”
He eyed my outfit. “I don’t mind you like this. I’d be fine to keep you naked twenty-four-seven.”
“Wouldn’t the family have something to say about that? Is keeping me naked the way I can get the house to myself?”
When he didn’t answer, I glanced up again to find him coming around the table. He nipped the outer shell of my ear. “You’re sassy in the morning. I’ve never seen this side of you.”
“The sassy side? I’m pretty sure you have lots of experience with it.”
“Yes, sassy, but not as forceful with it. I like it.” He licked where he bit, and I put the fork down, so I didn’t accidentally stab either of us.
“It makes me want to bend you over this table and make you beg for it.”
I kept the whimper from escaping by sheer force of will.
“Do you know what I’ll do next?”
I shook my head, and the weight of my hair bobbed.
“And only when you are dripping down your thighs and squirming against me, will I finally relieve your ache.”
I shifted on the seat, my hands on the table. “You know; I don’t think we’ve ever had sex in the daylight.”
He chuckled. I felt the vibration in my shoulder blades from his chest. “How long do you think it will take you to beg for it?”
I didn’t want to tell him it would take seconds. I wanted to beg him right now. But the rational part of my brain, the one not moony with lust and clouded by maple syrup on a beautiful man’s lips, didn’t want to begin our relationship with me begging for anything.
A sharp knock at the front door saved me from having to choose or look a fool on the first official day of our relationship.
A familiar feminine laugh jerked me from the chair. I raced to the door and enveloped my sister in a bone crushing hug. “We were just talking about you,” Pierce said, his hand braced toward the top of the door. “Please, come in.”
Bianca walked us backward, still trapped in my arms. Pierce leaned out and grabbed something as I let her go.
“I brought you some things you might need when I realized you didn’t go back to your place.”
“How did you know that?”
She shrugged. “I called Harry, your doorman, to check.”
“How do you know his name? I don’t even know his name.”
She shoved a lock of curly blonde hair behind her ear and stripped off her coat. “I ask a lot of people their names. I’m an artist. It’s a thing.”
“You’re an artist?” Pierce asked, taking her coat and tossing it on a nearby chair.
