Page 72 of Corrupt Me

“It wasn’t like I was being satisfied at home,” he sneered, his gaze moving past Tristan’s shoulder to me.

Tristan leaned forward, lowering his voice, and I strained to hear him as he said, “You think I give a damn about your penis and whether or not you got sucked off on the weekends?”

Violence swarmed in Preston’s eyes. “Why would you? You always have a new girl hanging all over you every night.”

“The difference between us is I don’t have to cheat or lie to get a girl,” Tristan said.

“No, you just steal them,” Preston replied with malice.

Whack.

I blinked, unable to believe what just happened. If it wasn’t for the trickle of blood dripping from the corner of Preston’s mouth, I wouldn’t have believed Tristan had hit his brother.

“Bastard,” Preston hissed, smearing the back of his hand over his mouth, a line of crimson staining the skin. A second later, he rammed into Tristan like a linebacker tackling the quarterback to the ground. They hit the floor with a thud hard enough to make me squeak.

I scrambled backward toward the bed or risked getting tangled up in the fight. Seeing them scuffle wasn’t something new. They’d fought before but never like this. Never over me. And that’s what made it serious.

“Stop it!” I cried, but I might as well have been screaming at a brick wall. The brothers continued to go at it, rolling and punching each other. I couldn’t tell who was hitting who, but it looked like Tristan was doing his best to pin Preston to the ground. Preston, on the other hand, sloppily threw hits, some of them landing but most sailing through the air.

I tried again. “Stop! Tristan!” I called out, imploring him to end this before someone got hurt.

Hearing his name distracted Tristan, and as his gaze flicked up, he took a shot to the left cheek.

I winced hearing bone connecting with flesh—Tristan’s flesh. My hand flew to my mouth, muffling a squeal.

Tristan shot me a short scowl clearly portraying a message.Not helping.

“Sorry,” I mumbled as he flexed his jaw.

“Shortcake, stay out of the way,” he growled, focus returning to his brother, and he finally gained the upper hand.

“Shortcake!” Preston spat. “What is she, a fucking dessert you eat?”

Tristan cocked a brow, a twitch tugging at the corner of his lip, and I suddenly had the urge to hit him. “Do you want to know how she tastes?” Tristan goaded.

“You bastard,” Preston seethed. “Of all the girls in the world, why did you have to sleep with mine?”

Shoving off his brother, Tristan sat on the floor and shook his head. “You have too many for me to keep track of. Besides, she deserves better.”

A sarcastic snort breezed through Preston’s nose as he pushed up. “What a joke. You’re so much worse.”

Tristan’s breathing leveled. “That’s what I’ve been telling her.”

A knot burned at the back of my throat. “Will the two of you stop already? I’ve had enough. I’m not a damn trophy to be won. Grow the fuck up. And get off the floor.”

They stood, eyeing each other warily. Tristan forked a hand through his messy mop of dark hair. Preston dusted off his clothes, wavering slightly on his feet. He ended up leaning against the wall, exertion expelling from his chest.

An awkward silence followed, the three of us staring at each other.

I couldn’t handle it.

“One of you better clean the blood off the floors unless you want to tell your mom what happened here.” Only a few splatters stained the wood but not the point. I wanted them to see how ridiculous they behaved.

Preston’s gaze moved to me as he stepped toward me. “Ev?—”

I whirled, holding up a finger. “Don’t. Don’t you dare say another word to me. If I wanted to talk, you’d know. Right now, I can’t even stand to see your face. Just leave, Preston. Go back to your baby mama.”

“So you can continue shagging my brother?” His bitter harshness prickled along my arms.

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