Page 72 of Addicted Lies

“No. That’s not how this works. By the way, your mother is watching us.” She goes to push past me, but I can’t help myself. I step in her way and block her path.

“I wouldn’t let him kiss you again. If he does…” I deliberately trail off.

“You will do nothing. And he can kiss me anytime,” she hisses.

“That wouldn’t be a smart thing to do.”

“Move. Now.”

“Hmm. I like it when you talk dirty to me.”

She huffs and pushes past me. I turn to watch her go, only to see my mother staring at me. She walks back over, and I know she saw our interaction. I wait for her because I don’t want others to hear what she has to say.

“You lied to me,” she accuses.

“I didn’t. At this current time, nothing is happening between us,” I tell her honestly.

“So there was something going on between you?”

“It was nothing serious.”

“So you were sneaking around,” she guesses. “For how long?” She pushes harder. And I know I can’t lie to her again.

“For almost a year and a half.”

She seems to think on my words as she looks over her shoulder.

“I can kill him for you if you want,” she offers.

I lean down and kiss her cheek. I love how ruthless she is. “No, Mother, it was my choice to let her go.”

“You don’t sound like you’re doing a very good job of it. You sound just like me. Your brother is more like your father,” she comments. “Make no mistake, your father was the best thing to happen to me. And then you and Hawke came along.”

I know Anya’s sentimental side is not something she shows freely… or often.

“I know.”

“Don’t think you can’t have anyone you want,” she tells me, then nods before she walks away.

Our tender moment is over, and we both move through the room in our usual predatory manor.

CHAPTER 33

Billie

Matthew’s arm slides around my waist when I reach him. Jewel whispers something into Eli’s ear, and then they leave us. At the same time, Ivy drags Hope away. Matthew then turns, and both of his hands slip around my waist. He pulls me to him, his front pressing into mine. I force a smile, placing one of my hands awkwardly on his chest, the other hand still holding my drink, as I look up at him.

“Do you have plans after this?” he asks, gripping me a little tighter.

“No.”

“Good. I want you to know I don’t expect anything, but I’d like to invite you back to my place.”

“For?”

“Dessert.” He smiles at me. He doesn’t know that’s my favorite thing to make. I can’t say I’ve had anyone other than my mother makes me dessert besides a restaurant. But the double entendre isn’t lost on me. I’ve had a certain someone else demand his weight in sweets and dessert, and yet when Ford does it, it makes me feel an entirely different way. But with Matthew… there’s nothing.

I stare at him, thinking of how to respond, when someone bumps into me from behind, and my drink spills all over Matthew.

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