She has to go first thing tomorrow. I’ve never felt as dirty as I do right now lusting after an eighteen-year-old girl.
“I was just going to get something to drink. I hope that’s okay? I won’t bother anyone,” she says, shuffling from her right and left foot. She twists her hands together, and the move has the inside of her arms show more scratches, but it’s the deep shade of purple around her wrist that has me seeing red.
If she hadn’t killed those men, I would have. My team and I would have found a way.
“It’s fine. Make yourself at home,” I say, unable to rip my eyes away from her mouth as she chews nervously on her bottom lip.
I have the urge to nibble on it.
Fuck! Damn it! This woman needs to get the hell out of my house. Now!
“Thank you,” she utters, her gaze locked onto the floor.
Another round of awkward silence comes and stays, lingering in the air like a disease. This is horrible. I’m slowly smothered by my own lust, confusion, and anger.
“I don’t.”
“I should.”
We both try to speak at the same time.
“You go,” we say to each other in unison.
She smiles, letting out an airsoft laugh. She’s pretty when she smiles, and the fact that she can smile through the pain and bruises shows how strong and resilient she is. I’m impressed by her.
“I need to lay him back down. He’s been exhausted.”
“Yeah, I should get going too.” She tries to get a better look at Dillion, but the way he has his head tucked into my neck conceals his face. “That’s your son?”
“Yes.”
“You’re a good dad,” she says with fondness. “Mine used to hold me like that too, until he died.” She clears her throat and begins to walk down the hallway toward the kitchen. She turns around to say one last thing, when she catches me checking out her ass. “I saw that.” She walks backward, and with every step she takes, her tits bounce. “I saw that too,” Finley says, and my eyes lift from her chest to her face. This time I’m caught red-handed.
“No, you didn’t. Go get your drink.”
“Whatever you say, Grayson.”
“Go.” I jut my chin out toward the direction she needs to walk in.
With a sweet, crooked smirk, she turns on her heel and struts away, putting more sway in her hips than she did before.
I close my eyes and hurry inside my room, and I lock this damn door for good measure.
She’s fucking trouble.
I’ve always loved a little trouble.
Chapter Twelve
FINLEY
The next morning, I have my bag packed with clean clothes and about three-thousand dollars left over stuffed inside. I took all of Trevor’s money, but my mom didn’t know I knew where her secret stash of cash was. Should I have taken all of it? No.
But you know what? I’ll call it paying me back for all the abuse I’ve had to endure over the years, and she’s far from being paid in full.
I glance around the room they let me stay in for the night, and I don’t want to leave. Grayson is the obvious reason for me to stay, but it’s been so long since I’ve been in a place that feels like a home. This place is a home. The people who live here make it that way, and I don’t know how long it will be until I feel that again.
The air conditioning works, the house is clean, and the bed is so soft I felt like I slept on feather. It’s by far the best night’s sleep I’ve ever had. There are so many reasons why I want to beg to stay here, but I can’t. I take one last look around the room while my hand pauses on the light switch to turn it off.
Forest green walls surround me, mimicking the vivacity of the forest the Cliff House is nestled in. The bedframe is a beautiful hand carved sleigh bed made of mahogany. The details are fairytale-like, with woodland creatures designed in every groove of the wood. The carpet is soft, a beautiful golden beige to offset the darkness of the walls. There’s a low hanging brass chandelier, with teardrop bulbs, reminding me of rain.
It’s obvious the men here are very wealthy, but how? What do they do to afford such luxury because I want tips. The last thing I want to do is live like my mom in a rundown house that doesn’t have electricity half the time. I’m so afraid I’m going to turn into trash or go down the road my mom went down, become a sex worker and marry a guy who doesn’t really give a damn about me.
I won’t wish for a room or a life like this because wishing is for foolish little girls. Letting out a heavy breath, I open the door and turn off the light. Grayson is right, I need to leave. Craving him, craving this life, is bad for my health. I have enough cash to pick a place and get settled. I could get a cheap apartment and find a job. Not here in California, it’s too expensive, but I can figure it out.
I always do.
I might be taking my time because who in their right mind would want to leave a place like this? I’m practically dragging my feet so I’m in the house a second longer. The closer I get to the main part of the house, knots form in my stomach as I wonder if I need to say goodbye? Would anyone even care enough? Probably not. I’m just the girl who lied to get her way into Grayson’s life. They will be happier when I’m gone.
I hate that I lied. I shouldn’t have, and that’s something I’ll regret forever. Alicia was
