Page 144 of House of Lies

“Everything.”

She huffs bitterly. “You know who you sound like right now? That creep, Angelo. He blamed you for everything too, remember?”

I pull out of her grip, forcing her to back up so I can get to my feet. “I might as well have killed her myself.”

She slaps me.

Hard.

So hard I have to sit down again, because the room starts spinning.

I put a hand over my glowing cheek, glaring at her. “Ow?”

“Yeah, well, stop acting like a fucking idiot.” She crosses her arms over her chest. She’s wearing the cute blue pajama set I bought her. When I realize that the Balmont Boys might have seen her wearing them, I’ve overcome with such possessive rage that I almost push her aside so I can go punch anyone who admits looking at her.

“You aren’t responsible for what Angelo did. He was a delusional psycho who couldn’t accept the fact that you have more integrity in your pinkie toe than he had in his whole body.”

“Leave my toes out of this,” I tell her.

“Only if you leave your ego out of it.”

“What the hell does my ego have to do with any of this?”

“Come on, really?” She puts her hands on her hips. “You think that somehow you should have seen what Angelo was capable of, and stopped him. That’s ridiculous. And stupid. And egotistical.”

“You’re right.”

“Of course I’m—wait…I’m right?”

I draw her close and wrap my arms around her. “I’m sorry we didn’t find out what happened to your mother.”

“It’s not your fault.” She shrugs against me. “Besides, we don’t even know if he met with her. Could all just be a big coincidence. I’m trying not to think about it. Thinking about it makes my head hurt.”

She pushes against my shoulders, and I’m too weak to protest as she urges me onto my back. “Now how about you shut the hell up and let me kiss you? Because I kinda thought you died, and I’m really fucking happy that you didn’t.”

Cassidy straddles me, ducks down, and presses her lips to mine.

I can’t resist her mouth. To be honest, I don’t even try. I’m so fucking happy that she’s alive, never mind still at my side, that all that shit—the guilt, the horror, the uncertainty—simply fades away like a bad dream.

She kisses me hard and fierce, then slows down and works her way down my throat, over my shoulder, back up to my mouth.

I claim her sweet lips with desperate urgency, my fingers sinking into her ass so I can grind my hardening cock between her legs. The little moan she makes when I slide my hand behind her pajama pants sends a pump of blood into my dick…and makes my head ache at the same time.

She pulls back, grabbing my wrist, as if she somehow sensed my pain. “You should rest.”

“You should sit on my face.”

“Ethan!”

“I wasn’t asking.”

Her struggles are short-lived.

I rip off her pajama bottoms and drag her up my body, positioning her pussy right above my mouth. I stare at her for a long moment as she squirms in my grip.

“No, come on. What if someone walks in?”

“Then I’ll fucking kill them.”

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