Page 72 of Filthy Little Lies

“I did.” She sighs.

“Good.” I push off the bookshelves. “Are you hungry? Mrs. Neville left dinner in the fridge; I can reheat it for you.”

“You want to reheat dinner for me?” She eyes me as though I’m trying to hand her a piece of acid-laced candy.

“I can manage a microwave, but don’t ask me to cook.”

She makes a face like I’ve just suggested the Queen of England should cook dinner.

“I would never.”

“Okay, smartass. Do you want dinner or not?”

She thinks a moment then shakes her head. “No, thanks. We grabbed food while we were out.”

“On me?” I press when she continues to look like a child caught with their hand stuck in the cookie jar.

“Of course.” She swallows.

“I told you to use the card.” I remind her, slipping my arm around her waist and leading her from the room. “I expect you to use it. If you’re not up for dinner, let’s go upstairs.”

“There’s a movie I’ve been wanting to watch. I was going to put that on for myself. I thought you’d be out tonight.”

The idea of cuddling this woman on the couch with a movie suddenly holds as much appeal as stripping her naked and laying her over my lap. And when I consider it, there’s no reason I can’t have both.

“Let’s do a movie then.”

“Really?” she asks as we begin climbing the stairs. “You want to watch a movie with me?”

“I’d rather have you naked and spread out over my bed, but a movie sounds like a good place to start the evening.”

She considers me for a brief moment then shrugs. “Fine. It’s a romcom. I’ll set it up for us. Why don’t you get changed?”

“You want me to change?” I look down at the black sweater and jeans I’m wearing.

“You need to be in comfy clothes if you’re going to watch a movie. Pajama pants, T-shirt, that sort of thing.”

I eye her. “And what will you be wearing?”

She laughs. “I’m going to change into a pair of shorts and a tank top. Is that good enough for you?”

“I’d still rather it be nothing. But I’m feeling generous tonight. Get the movie on, and we’ll meet back here in a few minutes.” I give her ass a hard slap, leaving her in the sitting room of my suite while I search out the only pair of lounge pants I own.

Once I’m in my comfy clothes, I find her lounging on the couch, remote teetering on her knee and the soft ballad of the movie’s opening credits playing.

I sink into the cushions next to her, draping my arm over the back of the couch.

The movie starts out slow. A woman down on her luck meets a rich man who wants to give her everything, only to find out she’s the daughter of an important business client. There’s something called a meet-cute that she explains, and then they’re off making all sorts of horrible decisions and having near misses.

Halfway through, she snuggles up to me, leaning her head against my shoulder. I reposition myself, moving her in between my legs so I can hold her closer.

“If you’d like to go to Cassie’s in the morning, I’ll take you,” I offer when her phone lights up on the coffee table with a notification from Cassie. A simple text with a nighttime emoji.

“We have a ritual. I don’t say goodbye when she leaves. It makes it easier when there isn’t someone watching you get all of your things together and march you out.”

I stop stroking her arm. “March you out? Has someone done that to you?”

She shrugs. “I mean, there isn’t always a lot of time when you’re moving between foster homes. Sometimes, you only get a few minutes to get your things together then the social worker takes you. Unless the parents bring you to a drop off.”