“Truth!” I say, letting him lead me down to the underground parking lot. “Ready to face your mom and my daddy dearest?”
He grins, slipping his aviators over his eyes. “Nope.”
I stop. “Crap! I forgot. Tatum is coming with us.”
Nate shrugs. “Text her and tell her to hurry up.”
“Is this going to be weird?” I ask him with skeptical eyes.
“What, ’cause I fucked her?”
“Well, yes.”
“No.” He watches me and then exhales, walking up and lacing his hands with mine. “I promise it’s not weird. I’m used to clingy. I know how to handle girls like Tatum.”
I scoff, reaching into my pocket to get my phone out. “Oh,” I grunt, punching in a quick text to her. “I’m not worried about Tatum, trust me.” His smile drops. I roll my eyes. How can he be offended by that? But then it’s Nate. Under the tough, bad-boy exterior, he has a very large ego. Shocker. He cares about himself, so me insinuating that Tatum isn’t interested hurt his little feelings. Hitting Send on her text, I clarify, “What I mean is that she’s not clinging. She used you like you did her.”
Tatum texts back almost instantly, saying she’ll meet me at my place.
Nate laughs freely, brushing me off. “See? Perfect. Maybe I should hit it again if she understands the deal.”
I nudge my head. “First of all, no. Leave her alone. Second of all, she’ll meet us at home.”
“Do I need to have the talk with you about my friends?” He looks at me under his arm as we start walking toward the elevator that leads to his vehicle.
I scoff. “No, definitely not.”
Because it’s too late.
YOU KNOW THAT PART IN movies where you see the two toddlers who got caught drawing on the walls, or cutting up their mother’s new Egyptian cotton sheets, sitting on the sofa, attempting to look innocent as their parents sit opposite them, disappointed and deciding what they’re going to do as punishment?
Yeah, Nate and I are the toddlers right now.
“Madi?” my father asks, looking down at Nate’s arm that is snaked around my waist casually as we sit on the L-shaped couch. I shuffle anxiously, not liking the way my dad’s obviously uncomfortable with Nate’s arm around me.
“Hmm? Yes?” I decide to aim for innocence. Innocence always works with my dad. He actually thinks I’m naïve and probably thinks I’m still a virgin. Technically speaking, that wouldn’t be a hard thing to admit when you’re seventeen, but not all girls have my life or had my life.
Elena exhales, standing from the leather couch. “It’s fine. They’re kids. It’s what they do.” She pauses. “At least they get along enough to throw a party.”
I honestly didn’t think my dad would mind, not that I’ve ever thrown a party before, but he’s an absent-ish parent. I’m almost certain his punishment card is void. He punched that ticket when he left me the week of my fifth birthday.
Dad gets up from the couch, his eyebrows drawn in and the wrinkles around his eyes deep. He looks to Nate. “No more.” Then he disappears down the hallway with Elena on his trail.
“Whoa!” Nate laughs, leaning back on the couch and tilting his cap lower to hide his eyes.
“Whoa?” I whisper-hiss. “Are you kidding me?” I elbow him and get off the couch. “This is your fault.”
He chuckles, the unfazed asshole that Nate is. “I’ll take that.”
“Nate!” I pinch his arm.
“Ouch!” He whacks his hat up higher until his eyes zero in on me. “What?”
“You were supposed to take care of the garbage bins!”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I specifically remember doing them. Me and Tatum went around....” He trails off, his eyes gazing off into the distance.
“Hmm? You and Tatum went around where?” I tap my foot in frustration.
Nate laughs. “Okay, I’m sorry!” He gets up off the sofa, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me into his body.
I fight against his hard chest for a second before giving up with a huff, melting into his arms. “Don’t do that again. We had a plan, and if we want any freedom around here, we need to stick to the plan.”
“Yeah.” His voice vibrates against my cheek, his sweet cologne hitting my nostrils. “But we don’t need to throw parties here anyway. We have Brantley’s house.”
“Brantley doesn’t like me very much, and it doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t be attending parties.”
“Brantley doesn’t not like you.”
“Oh, really?” I step away from his embrace, just enough to be able to see his face but still be in his arms. “The man’s lip is curled at me constantly. I think he hates me more than Bishop does.”
Nate’s arm tightens around me. “Bishop doesn’t hate you.”
“I’m pretty sure he does. In fact, I don’t think any of your pack are entirely happy about my existence.”
“They just don’t know you.”
“You all kidnapped me. They’d be fucking lucky to know me, which, by the way, why am I hugging you? I’m still pissed about that.” I push out of his embrace, only for him to tighten his grip. He hooks his finger under my chin and tilts my head up so I’m facing him. His eyes search mine, his lips so close that if I inched forward, we’d be kissing.
“You don’t get a say in what happened that night.” He’s serious, and that makes me nervous. I’ve never seen Nate like this often. “I’m serious, Madi. We didn’t and don’t have much choice, except for probably Bishop.”
“Why do you like me?” I ask. He narrows his eyes. “I mean,” I whisper, my eyes dropping to his mouth, “you didn’t have to like me. We’re stepsiblings. We should hate each other.”
He inches forward, his arm clenching around my waist, pulling me in closer so I can feel his hard erection pressing into my tummy. He drops his lips softly, so they’re brushing over mine. “It was either I warm up to you...” He grins against my lips, but I don’t move. I should
