Page 4 of Carry Your Debt

And what it might’ve been doing right before she got back to her dorm.

My gaze travels down the indolent length of him, discreetly searching for some material evidence of their sordid tryst.

A lipstick stain. Sand.

Why?Because she smelt like the beach, weed...and another man’s cum.

And I need to knowwhose.

“Were you two just together?” I ask, coolly.

Evenly.

The perfect picture of restraint.

“I was just the getaway vehicle,” Rhett shrugs, hooded eyes dropping to the drink in his hand. “I was just moving the Lambo off campus after I dropped her off.”

With as closely as I'm watching him, however, I don’t miss the spike of tension in his shoulders. Or the way he’s studiously avoiding looking at me, as if that simple glass of water’s suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the world.

He’s throwing a massive front up, and it’s not with that typical Orbison insouciance.

Just what in the hell is going on with the two of them tonight?

“Who, then?” I prompt when he doesn’t elaborate.

“Miller,” he answers after a beat.

“Miller,” I spit back, though honestly, I can’t say I’m surprised.

Of course, it’d be one of the fuckingRox Boys.

I take a heavy step forward, my teeth rattling and fists clenching against my thighs. “And what about Sinclair?”

My heart’s pounding in my chest with thoughts of my half-brother’s hands on her body. It should bemyhands tracing the hollow arch of her back,myfingers digging into those two mouth-watering Venus dimples that frame the top of her peach-shaped ass…

“Sinclair?” he echoes, all nonchalance, and it does absolutely nothing positive for my blood pressure. Neither does that fucking eyebrow as it lifts once again in obvious delight.

Christ, I shouldn’t want to commit such acts of violence against my best friend and team co-leader. I trust this man with my life, but the way he sees straight through me has me seeing crimson.

“Yes, fuckingSinclair. Has she been with him as well?”

Rhett straightens, abandoning all pretense along with the glass in the sink behind him before he crosses his gigantic arms tightly against his chest. The look on his face is knowing, but his voice is oddly solemn as he confirms my fear.

“Yeah, they hooked up at the Guardhouse, last weekend.”

The very last of my remaining nerves fry to a crisp.

“And why do you look so fucking pleased about that?” I hiss.

“I’m…not,” he hedges as if taking special care to consider his next words. But this isRhett, so his pursed lips immediately tug up at the edges, shattering the sober illusion. “The only thing I’m pleased about is that Jackson Grayson is anythingbut.”

Then that knowing smirk slides into a full-wattage smile, and my stomach unwittingly flips at the sight.

Like he knows he's got a direct line to my inner control, Rhett drops his arms and pushes away from his relaxed post against the counter. Evidently, at some point in our confrontation, I’d moved toward the threshold of the tiny modern kitchenette, and so my second-in-command is right up in my face with only two swaggering steps.

A single, inked fist wraps around my already loosened tie and tugs, gently. It’s not the first time Rhett’s flirted with me, but this time? This time, I feel that tug somewheremuchfurther south.

“It used to be enough, y’know? Burying ourselves in a few too many drinks, and a warm body or two for the night.”

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