Page 79 of Addicted Lies

But I’m not.

“Ford!” my brother yells. I drop my hand, knowing I’ll do something I might regret if I don’t step away. Not that I’d ever regret touching or kissing her, but I would if she didn’t want it.

And the idea of her not wanting me kills me. Even though I assumed it was bound to happen.

It’s kept me up at night, but even I need to learn when to cut off my own air supply. Right?

But I’m a glutton for punishment.

CHAPTER 37

Billie

Isomehow got stuck here for dinner… and, of course, dessert, which I baked. I’m pretty sure most know that, but for Eli’s sake, we’re pretending it was Jewel.

Ford is sitting across from me because I purposely took the seat beside Hawke instead, not trusting myself to sit so close to him. Everyone’s discussing random bits about their week, but mostly, Ivy is monopolizing the conversation about her recent sexual conquests that Jewel seems invested in. Which only makes Eli jealous. Hawke then starts comparing his recent conquests, and it turns into this overtly sexual conversation about positions that then leads to the blood play my cousin and his wife favor. Eli doesn’t seem at all okay with her discussing their sex life, but he doesn’t stop her, a very male pride oozing off him.

The conversation then somehow turns to guns, and Jewel can’t stop talking about her favorites.

Someone asks Ford a question. He hasn’t spoken the entire time. His head is bent, and he’s playing on his phone, which is a usual thing. It’s not until recently that I concluded it’s one of the things he does to occupy himself.

My eyebrows dip when my phone vibrates. When I check it, there’s a text from Ford.

Ford: I really want to be up that dress right about now.

I put the phone down without replying.

And then it vibrates again.

Ford: Excuse yourself. Now.

I look up and find him watching me. I put down the phone again and turn to Hawke, listening to whatever he’s discussing. Something about fighting with his bare hands, I think.

“Billie, I need vanilla extract. Show me what it looks like,” Ford says, cutting across the conversation like a sharpened blade. Everyone looks at him, and Hawke starts laughing.

“Man, you don’t even know how to turn on an oven.” And I know that’s the truth because when I’ve baked at his house, he seems baffled, like I’m using some kind of witchcraft. But with what I recently learned about him, I think he was most likely making notes. He could probably perfect some of the hardest recipes within a year with his apparent addictive personality.

“I was attempting to make our parents a cake for their anniversary. Maybe you should fucking help,” he snaps at Hawke, who raises his hand in defense.

“No fucking thank you. That woman’s poisoned us so much with her cooking that I think if I were to return the favor, she’d put a bullet in my head.”

“Or a stiletto,” Ivy says casually as she takes a sip of her drink.

“Ooh. I heard about that. Is it true? Did Anya kill a man with her stiletto?” Jewel asks.

“Yep,” Hawke says proudly.

“Maybe you should just pay Billie to do it,” Eli suggests, and Jewel smirks. “We all know none of us can bake for shit compared to her.”

He ignores everyone else, his focus solely on me.

“Vanilla extract?” he asks again, then turns to Jewel. “I can take yours, right?”

Jewel nods, but she probably doesn’t even know what it looks like either. That’s confirmed when she says to me, “You’ll show him, right?”

That simmering fire stokes in my stomach because, of course, Ford is conniving enough to figure out how to get me alone when I’m trying my hardest to ignore him.

“Of course.” I stand at the same time Ford does. I excuse myself and walk through the door into the kitchen. The minute the door shuts, a set of hands are on me and pushing me forward.

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