Page 73 of Filthy Little Pretties
Ethan walks up and slaps my shoulder as he passes to get into his position at the bow, and Liam turns to follow, but I grip his arm, stopping him.
“What’s up?”
“No tongue.”
Liam straightens up, staring at me eye to eye. Neither of us moves or even fucking blinks. He crosses his arms over his chest, and I know he isn’t planning on backing down. He takes a deep breath in, before stating what we’ve been dancing around. “After this, it’s fair game. Every man for himself. She chooses, and we deal with it. Like men.”
“Deal.”
He nods, relaxing more. “Okay, no tongue, but I can’t promise the same from Paul.”
Motherfuckering Paul.
“I’ll beat his fucking face in before he puts his mouth on her.”
“I’ll help.”
A grin takes hold of my face. The irony is thick—two scoundrels making a gentleman’s agreement. The only thing I’m sure of is that when it comes to Donovan, he can’t trust me, and I won’t trust him.
“Come on. Let’s get this win over with.”
I’m in my own world, zoned in, so much so that I hear nothing until the roar of the finish-line air horn. It infiltrates my senses and snatches me from my headspace. The volume feels like it’s slowly turned up. The frenzy of cheers from the crowd lining the riverbank’s edges fills my ears, and begins vibrating inside my chest.
All of the present comes into focus as my breath expands so hard through my chest, it feels as if I can’t catch it. I collapse back, looking up at the night sky littered with stars, heaving in mouthfuls of air, unable to move my spent arms.
Say we won. Someone say we won.I’m too exhausted to open my mouth and ask aloud when Liam’s face comes into view as he sits up and points behind us, not looking. I lift my head, leaning onto the side of the wooden tank to get a better vantage point. My free hand plops down into the water, dragging along, creating a tiny wake behind it.
What I see is better than any wish I could’ve had. Red Oak is crossing the negotiated finish line. Minutes after us. We didn’t just win. We fucking decimated them.
“Fuck, Grey. I almost couldn’t keep up with your pace. Actually, I’m not sure I did. You were a monster. Whatever you were concentrating on worked.”
I nod weakly, knowing precisely what I was thinking of the whole time—the lesser of two evils. My body stays flat and wrung out as I lie back again, letting the others row us back in. As we approach, more cheers erupt, and the dock bangs indelicately against the wood as we pull to a stop at the dock and tie ourselves off.
The boat dips as each guy begins to exit, and I hear the pounding of footsteps as people rush the sides, cheering and clapping, yelling out “Hillcrest,” but I don’t move, choosing instead to lie there with my eyes closed and give a weak wave. Liam pats my shoulder. “You all right?”
“Yeah, I just need a minute.”
Ethan’s voice joins Liam’s above me.
“I have to say this: I think you carried us all on your fucking back right across that finish line. Grey, you were in another league, man. It was pretty fucking phenomenal.”
The boat dips, and I know Ethan’s left, but I’m not sure Liam has too.
“Liam?”
“Yeah?”
His voice comes from the dock, something that’s confirmed when I open my eyes and look at him.
“No tongue.”
All I get is an amused nod before he turns around. The world quiets down, as everyone follows Liam toward the bonfire that’s burning bright. I lie there hoping that by the time my body works again, that fucking kiss will be over. The more my body cools, the sorer I begin to feel. I have to get up and out of this wooden box. My eyes blink open when all the air leaves me as something surprising and soft lands across my waist, straddling me.
“What the fuck?”
“Shhhhh.” Soft hands land over my eyes as mine find the rough fabric of jeans over her hips.
Donovan.
