Page 38 of End Game
“So what if he does?”
Reality settles in atop the embarrassment and twinge of self-pity. He will see other women. I’ll see other men. But still.
“Maybe it would’ve been nice not to feel like I was a point on the scoreboard,” I sigh.
“You don’t know that’s what it is.”
“Oh, I do. At least number two.” My head hangs, my chin almost touching my chest. The position makes my neck pain rear its ugly head again, the twinge making me grimace. “I just don’t want to look at him, Pop. I don’t want to look at him and know I was ‘Saturday and Sunday,’ you know? I need a little dignity.”
She pulls me into a quick hug and then stands. “We go home.” Marching to the door, she stops before she pulls it open. “And I know you don’t want details, but your brother promised to take me on the boat tonight and do very, very wicked things to me. You are the only person I’d leave that invitation for, but I might never forgive you. Just so you know.”
“I owe you.”
“Ha,” she says, pulling the door open. “You owe me twenty.”
Branch
Settled.
What a terrifying fucking word.
It’s not a bad feeling, though, as I stretch out. My muscles are relaxed, my cock satisfied, which is a miracle in and of itself.
I haven’t ever felt this relaxed—not even on vacation in the Dominican Republic last year with a model whose name started with an L.
There’s something about this place that just digs into your bones and takes over everything . . . and there’s something about that girl that has taken over my brain.
I don’t know what it is, exactly. Sure, she’s beautiful. Her sense of humor is spot on. She’s intelligent and classy and has a mouth that I would love to discipline with my tongue every time she breaks from sophistication and says something dirty. She’s a conundrum, a riddle, a seemingly hot ass chick that has something underneath that I want to explore and I plan on doing just that tonight if I can figure out a way to get Poppy to get Finn out of here.
Everything inside me yells to be careful, tread lightly, because this one is a hazard. Layla isn’t dangerous like most women with their plots and plans. She’s a risk because she doesn’t have either. There’s something incredibly sweet and attractive about that. My only saving grace is that she’s Finn’s sister and the weekend will be ending soon enough. We should be safe and enjoy this while it lasts.
A vision of her legs around my neck, the pink of her pussy bared just for me has my cock going rock hard and my brainworking overtime on how to take care of that as quickly as possible.
“What?” Finn asks, making me jump.
“What, what?”
“What are you thinking about?” he laughs. “You just had the weirdest look on your face.”
“Ah, nothing.”
“No, it was something . . .”
“How are the new plays?” I ask, motioning to the playbook in hopes he’ll be easily redirected. “Anything too crazy?”
“Just variations on what we ran last year. We’ll see how Chauncey does in the other slot. Some of this shit is going to make him or break him.”
“I—” I stop talking at the sound of something banging behind us. Finn flashes me a curious look as we get to our feet and head into the greater part of the house.
Layla and Poppy are coming down the stairs, dragging their suitcases behind them. Everything I’ve heard Layla say about leaving replays in my mind and nothing I can find makes me think her plan was to leave today.
My gaze sears into her and she feels it. I can tell by the way she refuses to look my way. My jaw sets, my arms crossing over with I know is a tell-tale sign I’m irritated, but I can’t make myself uncross them either.
“What the fuck?” Finn looks at the girls. Only Poppy will look at him back. “Where are you going?”
“We’re heading out,” Poppy says too happily.
“I didn’t think you had to leave until tomorrow,” Finn bounces back, clearly as irritated as I am that they’re leaving. “We had plans, remember?”
