Page 12 of Wicked Devotions

“You don’t have to explain what you’re doing. It’s your house, too.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” He tilts his head to the side and takes the milk from me. “Because it feels like you’re spending a lot of time hiding out in your room.”

“I’m just settling in. Getting everything organized the way I want it.”

“What’s taking so long, Cy?” Emerson walks into the kitchen, the scowl on his face immediately dropping when he sees me. “Oh, Harper. Did you decide to grant us the pleasure of your company for the evening?” His voice carries a sharp edge, his words laced with sarcasm.

“No, I was just grabbing a quick snack before I go finish putting everything away.”

“Ignore him.” Cy’s hand runs gently down my back. “He’s always pissy when he’s losing to one of us, but it’s even worse when Dec and I are both beating him.”

“Fuck off.” Emerson gives Cy a little push down the hall, and I’m left in the silence of the kitchen once again.

I grab my phone and open my text chain with Banks. I was trying to be flirty and sexy earlier tonight, just to see if he’d bite and flirt back, but he was stoic as always. Before everything happened with my dad, we always kept a respectable distance. I had strict rules for dating,and he always adhered to them, but now those expectations are gone. I mean, I’m not respecting anything regarding my father’s rules after everything he did. I would have thought Banks would be as eager as I am to begin exploring the physical side of our relationship, but he seemingly has no desire.

He loves me, I know that unequivocally, but I’m starting to wonder if it’s more of a platonic love. There’s no passion for me from him. But maybe my expectations are too high? Do I have unrealistic ideas of what relationships should be like from movies and books? Maybe the intimacy of sitting at his feet and resting my head in his lap is the best I’ll get? I do love it.

My reflection in the window catches my eye, and I realize that I look kind of cute. Maybe I should send him a photo. I glance down at myself, tugging my top down to show all my cleavage but still keeping myself covered. Women who send sexy photos to their boyfriends have always intimidated me. Even having the thought to send a mildly sexy photo feels taboo.

That said, a thrill shoots along my spine as I look for the best angle to send to him. We’re navigating uncharted waters between us. Giving him a littlenudge might make him feel more comfortable to start exploring our physical relationship.

I snap a photo and send it off.

In an effort not to wonder when and how he’ll respond, I look around the kitchen. It’s decorated in the same dark aesthetic as the rest of the house, and I have to wonder if it came this way or if they actually decorated it. From what I understand, the guys have lived here for two years. That’s enough time to fully decorate, but I can’t imagine they did this on their own.

The curious side of me wants to go peek at their rooms, just to see what their personal vibe is, but that feels invasive. I didn’t even look into Declan’s room at his dad’s house.Ourhouse, I guess, though it still doesn’t feel that way to me.

The sound of my phone vibrating on the marble counter startles me from my thoughts. I pick it up and look down at the message from Banks.

Banks

There’s my pretty girl

Warmth fluttersin my chest at his response.

Do you want more?

No, I’m good. I’m setting this as my lock screen though

It’s not an outright rejection,but I feel deflated anyway. I just want to be wanted. I want to be touched and treasured, but not in some old pervert way like my dad’s friends used to leer at me during his parties.

Maybe it is too much to ask for.

Chapter

Six

CYRUS

The stifling heat of Emerson’s arm against mine wakes me just before his alarm goes off. He grumbles as he picks up the phone and hits snooze. I sit up and lean against the headboard to watch him doze. My fingers itch for a piece of charcoal and a sketch pad to capture his sleepy beauty.

The early light of dawn casts long purple shadows across the room, highlighting his square, sculpted jaw and hollowed cheeks.A full fringe of dark eyelashes fan out from around his closed eyes. I run the barbell of my tongue piercing across my teeth as I try to commit this image to memory for later today.

As the alarm pierces the air once more, he cracks an eye open. “I can feel you looking at me.”

“I can’t help that you’re so pretty.” I slap his cheek.

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