Page 295 of Darling Venom
I continued, “Reed—”
“—won’t know,” he seethed. “You tell him and you fuck up your friendship.”
His tone didn’t match his eyes.
One screamed, you’ll fuck yourself over.
The other screamed, you’ll fuck me over.
It wasn’t only me who didn't want Reed to know. It would damage their relationship beyond repair.
I knew you still care about Reed.
The realization returned a sliver of my confidence. He still had a heart, and needs, and feelings. Blood ran through his veins, just like mine. He wasn’t invincible.
I folded my arms across my chest, pulling the material tighter around me. “Aren’t you supposed to be in New York, opening some destined-to-fail business venture?”
At least that’s what Reed had told me a few weeks ago. Not the destined-to-fail part, but a wound named Ego bloomed beneath my skin, and I didn’t like it. Cruelty was a knee-jerk reaction, one bred into me through years of catty prep school drama, and I almost apologized but couldn’t quite bring myself to.
Two hazel eyes hardened, and he leaned back against the headboard, studying me with a scrutiny I wasn’t used to. Even with Virginia Winthrop as a mom.
“Not that it’s any of your business, Winthrop, I’m in town for a business meeting. Reed is spending the night at Basil’s, so I figured I’d crash in his room since Ma turned my room into a fucking craft room. I didn’t think I’d be accosted by an eighteen-year-old child.”
Fury exploded from my chest to my fingers at his coldness, and I wanted to punch him back—because that was exactly what his words were.
A punch I felt in my gut, worse than anything a physical hit could land.
He’d transformed from the older brother Reed had once idolized to this monster neither of us could recognize.
It hurt more than I’d thought it wo
uld.
I buried his jab beside my pride.
Nash grabbed a spare pillow and wiped our cum off his cock with the case, uncaring of the audience or the fact that I laid on that pillow every time I lounged in Reed’s room. “Do you often come into my brother’s room, looking for a quick lay?”
Never, I almost defended, half transfixed and half horrified as I watched him express his nudity so comfortably.
But I didn’t say it, because it made me feel vulnerable. The one night I professed my love for Reed had backfired in spectacular fashion, and Nash Prescott had the misfortune of witnessing it.
“All the time,” I lied to save face. “He’s a better lay than you.”
Another lie.
I couldn’t imagine anyone being better at sex than Nash Prescott. He made my toes curl and my lungs burn from exhaustive pleasure. He had pushed my body past its limits, and part of me wanted him to try again, just to see if the first time had been a fluke or if sex was supposed to be like this every time.
I still craved him, felt an obsessive thrill at the angry, rose-colored marks my nails had left across his chest. The thought terrified me. I wanted to run, but I also wanted to take a picture of the way I’d bruised him like he’d bruised me.
Deranged would be the perfect word to describe me. I had several teachers younger than Nash, and the idea of having sex with them sickened me.
Nash’s eyes narrowed as he studied me, lingering on my collarbone, where he’d sucked so hard, I knew his mark would last for weeks. “If he can make you come harder than you did around my cock, he deserves a medal.” His knowing eyes took in my flushed skin and the way my lips parted at the word cock. “My brother has a girlfriend. You know this, right?” he spoke as slow as he implied I was.
“For the record, Reed texted me, saying that he and Basil broke up.” I clung to the robe’s fabric.
“So your idea of being there for him is being his rebound fuck? Classy.” He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up more than I already had. He snorted a laugh. “That break up lasted all of thirty minutes before he apologized to her, practically begging on his hands and knees.”
I flinched.
