Page 39 of The Demons We Hide

“Are you backing out of our deal?”

Her head comes up and she blinks at me. “I…” No. She can’t. She knows it and so do I. Whether Juliet wants to admit it or not, she’s just like us. Her word means something to her. There is always honor amongst thieves and liars, you just have to find the line you’ll never cross, and this is one for her.

“Take off the shirt,” I say, moving past her. Ocean eyes follow me as I slowly sink down onto the floor and spread my legs. The muscles of my abdomen ripple as I pat the floor in front of me. “And come here.”

16

JULIET

Mothers are supposed to warn their daughters about boys with eyes like Gio’s. Dark. Wicked. Hot. He watches me as I take a hesitant step towards him and then another and another until I’m right in front of him. My legs practically tremble as I stand before him.

He tilts his head to the side, a ridiculous curl of dark hair sliding over the top of his head as he looks up at me. Watching. Waiting. Two hands lift and cup the back of my thighs. I jump at the warmth that spears me.

What the hell are you doing, Juliet?It’s a lie. It has to be. There’s no way that was the actual document claiming the cause of the apartment fire. A small piece of me wonders, though,what if it is?

Walking away from the Scorpion Kings after their betrayal hurt. Even if I don’t want to admit it verbally, I can at the very least do it to myself. They’d gotten my trust. Gio asking about my dad reminded me of that. Telling him about the visit to the prison had brought back unwanted memories, but he’d listened.

“The shirt, Prep Girl,” Gio reminds me gently, the words smooth like liquid chocolate. I close my eyes. He could be a sex phone operator with a voice like his.

Reaching down, I grip the hem of the shirt—the only thing I’d managed to don before he’d knocked on the window and scared the living daylights out of me. I suck in a sharp breath and by the time I release it, the shirt is fluttering to the floor along with his own. My nipples pucker against the air that slides over them.

Gio releases a low groan and tugs me down. I go. My knees hitting the floor a moment before he’s turning me away from him. Shock has me following the silent commands of his hands as he flips me to face away from him, my back to his chest and the rock-hard cock straining the fly of his jeans.

"Spread your thighs," he says.

I swallow against a too tight throat and automatically squeeze my thighs shut even as his fingers brush against my knees. “No.”

The dark raspy chuckle that vibrates against my back is an addictive sensation. “Gonna fight me ‘til the end, Prep Girl?”

I used to hate it when he called me that. Now, I’m used to it. I almost hate it when he says my actual name because it means he’s serious, and Gio is the kind of man that loves to be playful. “Did you expect anything different?” I ask him.

Hot breath touches my temple as he nuzzles the side of my head. “No, I didn’t.” Gio’s hands grip my knees and split them apart. I jump and try to push them shut again, but he reaches underneath and lifts them, hooking each of my legs over either one of his. I’m stretched wide open, and heat is bubbling beneath the surface of my skin as rapid breaths suck in and out of my chest.

“Look,” he urges, nudging my chin in the direction of the mirror across from us.The mirror. Oh fuck.

In the reflection, my face looks flushed and pink. My breasts rise and fall with each of my sharp breaths. My nipples are pebbled and tight, and my pussy… I want to cover my face because this close, I can see the truth in the wetness glistening against my folds.

“Lex told me what the two of you did together.” I close my eyes at Gio’s whispered reveal. He smooths a hand over my belly, warming the skin there with his own as my insides cramp with need.

Stupid.I’m so fucking stupid. I should get up and leave. I shouldn’t let him do this to me. Yet, I don’t. I remain right where I am, in his arms. Maybe I’m a masochist.

“Did you like it?” he asks when I don’t respond. His other hand touches the inside of one thigh, stroking back and forth. He doesn’t reach for my cunt. Doesn’t touch me in that way though he has to know that I want it. My hips roll upward as I bite down hard on my tongue to keep the begging words at bay.

“Hmmm?” He hums in the back of his throat and slowly—so fucking slowly—he traces an invisible pattern over my skin with the tips of his fingers.

I’m going to die here. Or kill him. Either way, I’m in pain.

“The three of you gossip more than the bitches at Silverwood High,” I say, albeit a bit breathlessly.

The kiss he presses into my shoulder makes me want to punch him because I can feel the way his mouth curves upward into a smile as he hides it from our reflection. Keeping his head dipped, he responds. “It’s not gossip if it’s about you,” he tells me.

“You’re an asshole.”

That earns me a full laugh from him. Not a chuckle. Not a vibration, but an honest to God, head-thrown-back laugh. I gape at him in the mirror. When he laughs like that, he looks so young. It reminds me that we are young. We’re not supposed to be adults. We’re not supposed to worry about roofs over our heads or food in our bellies. We’re supposed to fuck up and make mistakes and figure shit out.

He’s my most perfect mistake. They all are.

When Gio’s laughter fades from the room and his eyes meet mine again in the reflection, they’re serious again. His hands join together on my waist, pulling me back harder against him as he juts his hips against my ass, pressing the hard length of his cock between my cheeks and rubbing.

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