Page 80 of The Obedient Lie
My lips parted, still flushed, “Thank you,” I whispered, breathless.
Bastion ran his thumb slowly over my bottom lip.Gentle.Possessive.Like he needed to feel what they’d just done to me. Needed tomarkthe place my mouth had taken them in.
“And do you accept our apology?” Luca asked, his voice lower now. Serious beneath the softness.
I nodded. Letting it settle in my chest.
Bastion leaned in, his mouth brushing the edge of my ear. His breath warm. His voice darker.
“Pity,” he mouth brushed my ear,“I could still think of other ways to say sorry.”
His lips pressed to the side of my head.
Chapter Twenty-Three
LUCA
She smiled now, and I fuckinglovedit.
The only difference was—this time, when she did, we didn’t force ourselvesnotto smile back.
She stood near the window, phone pressed to her ear, laughing at something someone had said. Her voice was soft, a little breathy, and every now and then she’d touch her hair like she wasn’t fully aware of howhypnoticshe looked doing it.
I was sitting on the edge of the couch, watching her like I didn’t have anything better to do—because I didn’t.Not when she was in the room.
She was wearing pale pink satin again. A different cut than the other night—this one sweeter, softer, somehow even more dangerous. Thin satin straps tied in delicate bows rested on her shoulders, the fabric clinging tighter across her chest this time. Cream lace traced up one side like a corset, crisscrossed just enough to tease flashes of the skin beneath. The back was open—bare, exposed—like an invitation.
My mouth went dry justlookingat it.
It bothered me.
Not the satin—that? That wasperfect.
It was the fact that she was smiling for someone else. Laughing for someone else. Givingthemthat voice, those eyes, the tiny sway of her hips as she walked.
I wanted it on me.
On us.
And the worst part?
I didn’t even know who the fuck she was talking to.
I didn’t want to ask. I didn’t want to care.But I did.
She hadn’t said a word about the other night. About what Bastion and I had done.How we touched her.
Bastion figured she’d blame the drugs. A side effect of blurred lines and soft highs.
But I’d seen the way her mouth opened for us. The way her thighstrembled.How she leaned back into Bastion’s chest like shebelongedthere.
She didn’t regret it.
She turned slightly, still on the phone, her hand brushing the windowpane like she was half-listening.Half here.
If only she knew.
If only she knew the only drug we were high on washer.
