Page 25 of SINS & Lies

I’ve been pushing myself to the brink for months, running on fumes. I can’t remember the last time I had sex.

I mean, before Kennedy.

Fingering still counts as sex, right?

Assuming it does, that makes exactly twice in the past several months. Twice!

Once in my car as Kennedy’s tight little cunt came like Niagara Falls all over my hand. And once when her delectably tight pussy came right on my tongue.

Before I spent my days building empires and my nights taking down the sworn enemies of my father, twice an hour sex was more like it.

I let out a breath, resentment boiling in my veins. I could be having round-the-clock sex with Bella right this very minute if Andre hadn’t fucked it all up for me.

He called her a gift?

More like a curse.

Kennedy was his way of twisting the knife that much more. And a blaring reminder that whenever his path crossed mine, there were only two ways out...

Death or destruction.

And frankly, destruction was ranking lower and lower each time I had to look at his face.

Which left death.

My uncle has slipped through death’s fingers so many times the bastard seems indestructible.

But if I make a move and fail, retribution will be swift and merciless, spelling death for at least one of my brothers, if not more.

I can’t afford to lose them.

I study their faces and sip my drink. They’re already poised to breathe down my neck and scrutinize my every move. If I stay, they’ll hound my every move because they’re overprotective and nosy as fuck.

Which means leaving town is sounding better by the minute.

Plus, getting away from Kennedy is less of a bad idea and more like common sense. Everything about her is a distraction.

Doe eyes.

Lush lips.

Juicy fucking tits.

Gah...

I need to create some distance between us, and I need to do it now. For good. “As a matter of fact, I am leaving town,” I say, decidedly.

Smoke snaps a stern finger at me. “Now, you listen to me, fucker. My wedding is just around the corner. My bride is a nervous wreck and my future in-laws are twitchy, trigger-happy, and armed to the hilt. They will literally kill me if we go to war.”

I chuckle, rubbing my scruff with an evil grin. “So, you’re demanding I go to war.”

“I mean it,” he threatens.

Mateo smacks me in the chest. “At least, don’t go to war without us.”

“Do I look suicidal?” I ask.

Dante gives me a good once-over. “More like a deranged psychopath.”

---