Page 24 of Tell Me Lies

“What are your intentions toward our Maddie?” The Aussie chick snapped her fingers in front of my nose. “Pay attention, elder brother of the ex.”

“Is that what I am?” I asked, then sighed when she rolled her eyes. “Fine. A little levity before business but Australians aren’t known for their finesse. I’ll ruin her reputation, torment her until she’s on edge, and fuck her brains out in my brother’s bed.” I added that little tweak for pure shock value with no intention of following through. “How does that sound?”

The Aussie popped gum in my face. “Can ya believe this cunt?”

Everyone in the vicinity—including me—winced.

“Harper,” a soft-spoken, dark-haired girl, admonished. My brother would love her. No fight, sweet acquiescence, and all the soft reprimands he could ignore. “Give the boy a chance. I think he’s telling the truth.”

“Lying won’t get me anywhere.” A pensive silence fell as we all pondered the point I threw out there as a sacrificial lamb, and accidentally killed the conversation.

Maddie saved it by opening the door with her butt, her arms bundled around groceries. “Jesus, that was tough. Quiz after fucking quiz. Are we getting rotten tonight?” She shut the door and froze when no one replied.

“Uh, Maddie?” the mousy brunette ventured at her back.

“Shit.” She hung her head and twisted about, dumping a bag on the floor to glare at me. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied graciously.

“Not you. For them. You shouldn’t be here.”

The tall girl with pink-blonde hair wiggled her eyebrows. “Twins.”

“What?” I frowned, turning back in time to see Maddie Sutcliff blush red as a beet.

“Stop that,” she hissed furiously. She strode across the room of the tasteful plantation mansion to snare my wrist. “You. With me. Now.” She twisted my shirt in her fist and was off.

Rather than let her damage my favorite shirt—that also happened to be a limited-edition design—I traipsed up the plush carpeted stairs behind her, admiring the view.

“Close your mouth,” she snapped halfway up. “Drool ruins the carpets.”

“It’s not your house.”

“No. It’s not my house. But where I’m from, frat boy,” she sneered, knowing I wasn’t one, “we take care of our things.” She closed the door behind her and swung about to face me, a pretty blush creeping along her cheeks. “Why were you terrorizing my friends?”

I backed her into the door in a few short steps. “I could take care of you, you know. Scream for me, Maddie Sutcliff. Find out what it’s like to be on your knees … and like it.”

“Back off.” She ducked around me and I let her go, turning in a half-circle to survey her room.

Everything was bright white, even the orchid blooms centered on her otherwise minimalist desk.

She sat on her bed, yanking off her boots. “Why are you here?”

“Let me.” I knelt before her, pushing her hands aside while she gaped at me.

Working the zip, I slid one boot off then the other and rolled her socks down, massaging the balls of her feet.

She moaned softly and flopped back on the bed. “I have no idea why you’re doing that, but please don’t stop.”

I told you you’d beg.

But crowing now would ruin the mood. I focused on her feet, tracing the arch with my thumb and fighting a smile. “Your day sucked, huh?”

“Why are you here, again?” she asked but there was no vehemence in her voice this time.

“You’ve seen my house. I wanted to see where you lived.”

“You saw it. The night you photographed me and spread my ass all over campus.”

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