“And?” I cocked a brow.
“And I haven’t fucked with Saint for a while, wanna join?”
I laughed. “Hell yes.”
I moved forward and he grabbed my hand, his fingers threading through mine as he pulled me towards Saint’s console on the wall. I tried to ignore how heady his touch made me feel, but it was impossible.
“Pick a song, baby. I’ll upload it to his playlist for the morning.”
I snorted, taking out my phone and scrolling through some music as I tried to pick one. But then an idea came to me that was so brilliant, it made me burst out laughing.
Kyan squeezed my hand. “What?”
“So, I took a video of Blake a couple of weeks ago…any chance you can use the sound?” I scrolled through it, pressing play on the ending as Blake groaned and my breathy moans tangled with the sound from off camera.
Kyan snatched the phone to look at it, barking a laugh. “Yeah, I can do that. Just give me a minute.” He moved to Saint’s bed with my cellphone, throwing himself down on it and creasing the covers. Saint’s console made a jingling sound as Kyan connected my phone to it.
I watched him work, chewing my lip as my eyes roamed over his tattooed flesh, the trail of hair leading beneath his low waistband, the perfect V which tapered down to direct me right to his-
“All done,” he said brightly, sitting up just as the front door slammed downstairs.
My eyes widened and Kyan swore under his breath, jogging across the room to me.
“Barbie?” Saint called, his voice sharp and my heart thrashed with adrenaline.
Kyan picked me up, throwing me down in the place he’d just been in on the bed. Then he winked at me and moved to the far end of the balcony as Saint’s footsteps pounded up the stairs. Kyan swung his leg over the railing and I fought a laugh as he dropped down to hang from the other side just as Saint appeared upstairs.
Saint looked to me and I smiled innocently, rolling across his bed to capture more of his attention. A thump sounded as Kyan let go and hit the floor below and Blake started laughing. Saint glanced over his shoulder suspiciously, but I caught his hand, drawing his eyes back to me.
“Did you have a good run?” I asked sweetly. He wasn’t buying my act for one second, his gaze dragging over me like he was looking for sins. I almost felt bad for fucking with his music; he was going to freak in the morning.
“Take those clothes off, I’ll fetch you something appropriate,” he snapped, marching away into the closet and my smile fell into a scowl.
Enjoy your wake up call, assbag.
I withdrew to my room for most of the evening, my mind a whirling mixture of emotions which I didn’t know how best to process.
On the one hand, I was glad that Tatum knew the truth about the Unspeakables now, about Deepthroat and what she’d nearly done to me. But on the other, I knew that information had only hurt her again. And I was getting sick of hurting her all the fucking time. But that was who I was. And if I gave into my selfish desires to pursue her then I knew I’d only hurt her again. And again. And again.
That was what O’Briens did. And as much as I liked to pretend I wasn’t an O’Brien and cling to my Roscoe name like it was a lifeline, I knew it was bullshit. My father was calculating and shrewd and a coward. He was totally cowed by the family of the woman he’d married. He had no backbone, no mettle, no grit. Hell, the only thing I’d gotten from him genetically was his dark hair and height. Everything else in me was O’Brien, right down to my bloodthirsty nature and hunger for violence. As much as I wished it wasn’t so, the truth was the truth. And no one had ever gotten close to an O’Brien and come away unscathed.
It was my night with Tatum in my room, but even after our little heart to heart, I wasn’t going to sleep in with her. Part of the reason was my hurt feelings and lingering anger over the things she’d said to me before. But it was more about me and her and all the things she was never going to be for me.
I had the TV on with re-runs of Fear The Walking Dead playing, but most of my attention was on the sketch I was drawing, capturing the way Tatum had looked with the rain pouring over her. That haunted look in her eyes which said she feared she really was alone here, the way her shirt had clung to her skin and raindrops had spilled from her hair. Fuck, that girl was on my mind way too much. Not that I was trying very hard to get her off of it. Sitting on my own and sketching her all the damn time wasn’t helping either. I was paying way too much attention to her mouth too, especially considering the fact that there was no way in hell that I was going to be kissing it.
A knock came at the door and I grunted as I kept my eyes on my work, shading around her eyes as the door swung open and the real deal cleared her throat.
I fell still, fighting against the urge to snap the sketchbook closed. I probably should have realised it would be her, but I’d been too focused on what I was doing to think on it.
“Hey,” Tatum said, hesitating in my doorway.
I usually hung out in the front room with everyone in the evenings so she hadn’t actually had to come and kick me out of bed on any of the nights
