Page 82 of Split

“So, back to the party?” I ask, tucking a damp tendril of hair behind my ear.

Roman and Knox exchange glances.

“What?”

“There’s blood on your gown,” Knox points out, an unmistakable smolder of heat in his gaze as he takes in my appearance.

“Then it’s a good thing you like red,” I say, patting his chest as I step past him. The clip of my heels echoes in the tunnel as I stride away from the twins, back in the direction we came from. “Come on, I want to dance with my husbands!”

I smile at the sound of their uniform footsteps as they start to follow.

34

“Seriously,greatparty,” Cherie titters, leaning her body weight against her husband as he reclines back against the sofa in the study, fingers flexing their grip on her thigh.

A fire is roaring in the hearth, warming the room and bathing the interior in a pale orange glow. The last of our party guests left half an hour ago, save for these two, and we’re all a little fuzzy from the liquor, lounging here in an effort to wind down from the high of a raucous evening.

“It was alright,” Knox mumbles from his seat beside me on the sofa opposite theirs. “Certain parts of it were definitely memorable.”

He slides me a sly wink and my cheeks heat, my gaze pinging to the fire as my throat bobs with a hard swallow.

I’m still waiting for the gravity of what I’ve done to sink in; for guilt to take hold. I’m nervously anticipating how I’ll react when it finally registers, holding my breath like I’ve done every day at the manor while thinking my husband was plotting my murder. My own death hasn’t come yet, and neither has the remorse I should feel for executing my own father. I hope it never does.

“You two are welcome to stay the night, if you’d like,” Roman offers, glass clinking as he pours himself a drink at the bar cart across the room. “We’ve got plenty of space here.”

“Maybe we should head to a guest room, then,” Cherie suggests, rubbing her ass against Anton’s lap suggestively.

“But what if I want to take you right here, by the fire?” he questions, arching a dark brow.

An airy giggle floats from her lips, Anton’s eyes gleaming with a nights’ worth of liquor as he pushes down the straps of her dress.

“Anton!” she squeals, holding the fabric tight to her chest so her breasts don’t spill from the top. Embarrassment colors her cheeks as she glances our way, mouthing an apology.

“Hey, don’t stop on our account,” Knox remarks cavalierly, swirling the vodka around his glass.

Anton grins deviously in response to getting the green light, shoving the top of his wife’s dress down to her waist and fully exposing her breasts. I avert my eyes as a flush heats my own cheeks, but within seconds I find myself glancing back over, watching in rapt fascination as he kneads her full breasts beneath his palms.

Those things have got to be implants. Not only are Cherie’s boobs huge on her frame, but they’re perfectly symmetrical and perky. They’re gorgeous.

An uncomfortable feeling of inadequacy stirs within me, but Knox reaches for me before it can fully take hold, pulling me over onto his own lap. He repositions me to his liking with my back against his chest and my legs draped between his, sliding a hand beneath the slit in the skirt of my dress to grip my thigh.

“Do you want to watch?” he murmurs in a low voice, warm breath skating across the shell of my ear.

My heart pounds harder, a thrill rushing through me as goosebumps pebble up on my skin.

Do I?

“Yes,” I answer, my voice barely above a whisper.

I feel his smile against my ear as he leisurely trails his hand higher up my thigh, cupping my throbbing center. His fingers start to move against me, caressing me through my panties as Anton leans over to take one of Cherie’s stiff pink nipples into his mouth.

“Are you getting wet watching them?” Knox growls in my ear.

“Yes,” I admit on a stilted sigh.

“That’s how I feel, every time I watch my brother fuck you,” he grits out, pushing the damp cotton of my panties to the side and sinking a finger inside me.

A breathy moan escapes my lips at the intrusion, shame coating my cheeks in a pink blush as I dart a glance toward Anton and Cherie– but the two of them are so caught up in one another that they seemingly haven’t taken notice of what Knox is doing to me while in the same room.

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