Page 24 of Savannah Royals
It’s not the first time we’ve done this, and the guys have their rhythm well sorted. They know when I’m close, and their pace quickens. They thrust together, twice. I implode, falling onto Abe’s chest. I’m completely oblivious as they both finish, one after the other, a few thrusts later. I’m inhabiting another planet. Floating on the ceiling.
Paul collapses on the bed, the motion gently bouncing Abe and me up and down. Abe, whose strong arms are still wrapped tightly around me, holding on like I’m a buoy in a storm. I stay there with him, breathless. Paul kisses me lazily, amused. Abe runs his fingers up and down my arm.
I sigh and close my eyes, drifting into oblivion with these two men—wolves—beside me.
“Hey.”It’sPaulwhowakes me at dawn, gently shaking my shoulder. “We have to get you back to the Academy. The sun will rise soon.”
Abe snores softly, blissfully unaware. I dress quickly but pause before leaving the room. I don’t want to wake him, but…
“Don’t worry, I’ll tell him for you,” Paul says.
“What, exactly, will you tell him?” Because I’m wondering what to say myself.
His eyes are understanding as he shrugs. “That you love him.”
“Yes,” I admit, “but not like I love you.” It’s important to me that Paul knows.
He reaches out to tweak one of my bedraggled braids. “I know, Kitty-Kat. You don’t have to worry. Not with me. Not with any of us.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“That’swhatyou’rewearingtonight?” Melinda looks incredulous.
“What? Emerald is a great color on me. Matches my eyes.” I know full well that’s not her complaint. I turn to the mirror in our bedroom and fluff my hair.
“It haspants. And nearly bare shoulders.”
“It’s a pair of Paul Poiret’s jupe-culottes, Mellie.”
She stares blankly.
“Harem pants, Mellie,” I explain, trying to keep condescension out of my tone. “Inspired by the Parisian ballet performance of Scheherazade. Ring any bells?”
She only continues to stare.
I sigh. “Well, they’re in style. Here’s a wild thought—maybe in all your free time, you pick up a fashion magazine every once in a while.Vogueis a good place to start.”
“I just…” She finally finds her voice, shaking her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’re going to wear that tonight.”
“Don’t worry, I’m still wearing heels and a brassiere,” I assure her. “I’m not a total heathen.”
“Thoseheels?” She points to the gold, winged, T-strap heels on the floor.
“Yes,” I say tiredly, whirling to face her. “Do you have a problem with those too?”
“No. It’s just…” She meets my eyes, curious, perhaps a little envious. “Where do you get all this chic stuff?”
Oh.
“I do a lot of secondhand shopping.”
The lie comes easily because it’s born from truth. Other people’s closets are a great place to shop. The bottomless stolen cashflow from my thief boyfriend doesn’t hurt either.
“You always look so smart.” She’s wistful now, examining her own closet.
I can’t argue with her. The emerald green pantaloons interwoven with gold filigree and pearlescent beads that shimmer as I walkarepretty smart.
“Do you…do you want to borrow something?” I ask, rather uncertain. This is uncharted water.
