Page 47 of The Southern Thirst Trap

Payton groans, shoving a hand in his hair, and looks visibly disturbed by that revelation. “Seriously, Hayes? We always keep that as a last resort kind of thing. We never actually offer any of his hookups money. Why did you think to try it on this one?”

My blood boils, my entire body shaking with the effort not to break Hayes’s cold face right here as I meet his steely green eyes. He doesn’t even look embarrassed. “You treated her like a whore and you’re surprised she still hates you? You fucking idiot. She probably came to tell me she was pregnant, which she wouldn’t have wanted to tell you, and you offered her money to fucking disappear. Some brother you are.” I push away from Hayes, but he grabs my jacket and keeps me close for one last parting shot to my ego.

“You’re the fucking asshole who made that the only choice I had in the matter. If you weren't fucking everything once and discarding it like a spoiled child with a broken toy, leaving me and Payton to clean up after you, I may have had an alternative option and would’ve thought to let her see you. You brought this on yourself.”

He shoves me away and returns to the table, pulling out a seat for Paige before taking his own and leaving me to soak in the cold truth of his harsh words.

Payton puts a hand on my shoulder and leans his head into mine, holding me in place as I make to leave. “Don’t let him get to you. We’ve only ever wanted to protect you. You trend toward self-destructive tendencies and we never wanted anything to bite you in the ass later. Hayes did what he thought he had to in the situation. Was it right? No, but we can’t change that, now.”

“Fuck off,” I growl, pushing Payton’s hand from my shoulder. It may be the truth, but I don't want him fucking rubbing it in right now. Maybe if I had done things differently, like Hayes said, I wouldn’t be fighting with my brothers over how they treated a woman I slept with, because maybe she would be here with me tonight and I wouldn't be jealous of another man who brought her, instead. Fucking hell.

I turn away from the table of my family and the fucking football-playing giant who didn’t think it was worth going after his visibly upset date, pushing around people, not caring if I’m being rude. I need to find Harlowe. I need to start changing the past and everything I set into motion that got me to this fucked up spot where I’ve broken everything that could have been so fucking beautiful.

twenty-seven

Harlowe

OfcourseIwouldrun into Zander and his scary asshole brother here. I lean against the wall in the first bathroom I spotted when I exited the ballroom on my escape from that awkward interaction. I knew the gala was for a foundation Knox has been working with this past year; I just hadn’t asked which one, or who runs it.

Seeing the green-eyed brother, Hayes, brought back all of those feelings of pain, anger, and fear I had experienced in those weeks and months I spent crawling out of the heartbreak Zander had left me in when we returned from our trip. That terrifying aura of death was still there, though somehow tempered by his sweet wife. How he managed to find someone as seemingly nice as her I can’t begin to decipher, but stranger things have happened. Like Zander wanting to get to know Hendricks now, and trying to get back into my life after writing me off so thoroughly.

I wash my hands for something to do, since standing in here is earning me weird looks from the other ladies who come in to do their business or refresh their lipstick. I don't know how I’m going to make it through an entire dinner at the same table with the man who treated me like a common whore and Zander both, while Knox gives his speech. Would it be rude to just stay in here the whole time and hide? Yes, and I’m no coward. I can do this, even if I have to play the role of an unaffected supporter the whole night and pretend nothing weird happened. I can do this.

I straighten and look at myself in the mirror. I look damn fine. Paloma went all out, pulling an incredible dress from her designer contacts and styling me like I’m attending a Hollywood awards show rather than a charity gala, but it feels good to look good and it’s nice to not be battling my physical insecurities on top of everything else. It’s like armor, and I’ll need it to make it through dinner without losing my temper, my mind, or my patience. Or all three, given the family seated at that table that I need to return to.

I push back out into the hall and immediately have to stop before I run into the broad, unyielding chest of someone. I inhale the intoxicating scent of storms and sandalwood as I gasp. Not someone,Zander.

“There you are,” he says, taking my hand tightly in his and pulling me further down the hall away from the ballroom. “Are you okay? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“I’m fine, Zander, now let me go. We’re missing the gala; people will talk,” I hiss.

“Let them fucking talk.” His tone is unyielding, and all I can do is follow where he leads.

He hustles us through doors and halls, looking this way and that until he finds an unoccupied room that I don’t get a good look at before he closes the door and pushes me up against it roughly, one hand tight on my waist and the other on my throat, tipping my chin up as his mouth comes crashing down over mine, stealing my breath in a moment. His lips are firm and insistent and it takes me a second to realize that mine are parting, welcoming his tongue that is teasing along the seam.

He takes that invitation and plunders my mouth, his tongue sliding along mine in just the way he knows drives me wild and I lose it. All the restraint, the anger, the hesitance, and the terror at the thought of getting hurt again shatters as he kisses me. I think of him lying on the floor playing with Hendricks, begging me to be a part of our lives. I think of him following me up my driveway saying he wants a second chance with me, and his voice breaking with the urgency. I think of that first night he followed me around my kitchen and kissed me through his own confusion, like he couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to. My arms wrap around his shoulders, hands claw into his hair, holding him close and taking the kiss as much as he is.

Fuck, I need this, too. It feels so reassuring to be wanted, to know he came after me, that the first thing he wanted to do was kiss the hell out of me. I bite and suck at him, and he groans, hand sliding from my waist to the slit in my dress and caressing the exposed bit of my thigh that shows before hitching my leg over his hip and grinding his impressively hard cock right into my center. I whimper as he trails his hand around my thigh and dips the tip of a finger under the edge of my thong and swirls into the slickness he is creating. He groans as he coats his finger in my heat and rolls his hips again. I moan and push back into him, hunting for that elusive friction, lost in the moment, not at all in my right mind, sure I will regret this if I give myself a second to even consider the situation. But right now, we’re all feelings and no thoughts, and damn does Zander Olsen know how to make me feel good.

Zander is the one to slow the kiss, nipping at my bottom lip and pulling away with a hazy look as he stares at my lips. He keeps my leg around his hip, removing his finger from my slick heat, but the feeling of him hard against my core is a testament to whatever restraint he is using not to push his pants down and move my dress and thong aside and bury himself inside of me right now. He brushes his thumb along my bottom lip and dips it into my mouth until I suck it in, feeling it pop free when he slowly pulls it out. I gaze at his lips, willing them to come back, to kiss me again, for his hips to roll into me again, to give me that bit of friction that would feel so good.

“I fucking hate that you’re here with another man tonight.” His voice is rough, angry, but his touch is still soft where he cups my cheek. “I don’t like him touching you, or that you look good next to him, and that he’s probably so much better for you than I’ll ever be. God, I want to fucking destroy him.” His gray eyes are hard, electricity crackling in the depths.

He tips his head forward and bites at my exposed neck, hard, punishing me for being Knox’s date, yet finding that place that makes me shudder and go liquid in his arms, anyway. He rolls his hips into me again, making me whimper. He licks the spot on my neck to soothe the sting and brings his forehead up against mine, his eyes shut tight.

“But the way you just kissedme. The way your pussy is wet formeright now. That gives me hope.” His eyes open and I see the gray smoke and ash of those fires from so long ago of the hope he is speaking of that once flared so brightly in me, too. “Hope is a very dangerous thing for a man like me. It will make me do all kinds of crazy shit.”

I finally find my voice after the whirlwind of running into him and the kiss. “What kind of crazy shit? Are you going to go psycho on me?” I arch an eyebrow at him, looking to lighten the mood and get myself out of what is starting to feel like too intimate of a situation.

“I’m going to win your heart, little Wildcat. I’ll even earn it, this time.” He places a gentle kiss on my lips to seal that promise. “Now, are you okay? Hayes is an asshole on a good day and I’m sure you met him on one of his worst.”

I stare at him, wondering at the changes I’m seeing. He came after me because I was upset, and he kissed the hell out of me first as a very welcome distraction. What. The. Actual. Fuck. I pull my leg down from his hip and he releases me, giving me a few inches of personal space to stand and straighten my dress. That slit really came in handy, and he’s right, I’m soaked for him.

“I’m fine, Zander. I was just startled to see your brother. I’ve only met him once and you’re right, it wasn't under the best circumstances, so forgive me if I didn't have the best reaction just now.”

Zander looks away and runs a hand through his dark hair, rumpled from my own hands that were pulling him close to me, and it just makes him more attractive. When he returns those eyes—my son’s eyes—to me, they’re haunted.

“Whatever happened between you and Hayes was my fault. I’m sorry. He wouldn’t have done what he did if I hadn’t established my shitty patterns with women that led him to treat you as badly as he did. I brought this on us both and, fuck, Lowe, I’m so sorry.”

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