Page 65 of Boy of Ruin
Must be a rich thing.
“Hold your thumb up to it,” Jeremiah says, and he’s so close to me, his breath is against my ear.
I tense, spine rigid as I feel him behind me. His body heat is radiating into me, even though we’re not touching.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I wonder if this cabin shit was a bad idea. Well, it wasn’t fucking my idea.
“But I’ve never been here, how can my thumb—”
Jeremiah presses his open mouth to my cheek, his tongue flicking along my skin.
That lump in my throat grows bigger.
I can’t even breathe.
He licks his way up my jaw, and I wish Nicolas was here. Ria. But no one is here, and at some point, I have to confront these feelings. The fact that maybe I left because Lucifer is losing it, putting me in danger, but also because…I wanted to be here. With Jeremiah fucking Rain. He bites my ear, and my entire body tingles, warmth building in my low belly. “Just put your goddamn thumb up to the keypad, okay, Sis?”
I clear my throat, and he pulls back, letting me catch my breath. I should tell him to fuck off. Maybe turn around and punch him in the fucking face.
But I…don’t.
Instead, I do as he said, and I hear an electronic beeping noise, then the unmistakable sound of a lock flicking open.
“Welcome home,” he says softly, his breath fanning the back of my neck.
With a shaky hand, I reach for the lever, press it down, and scurry my ass into the house, wondering just how long my self-control will last being trapped in the mountains with my sexy, psychotic fucking brother.
* * *
“Are you sure it’s okay to leave her there?” I ask Jeremiah, turning to stare at him as we drive on the highway, leaving behind the cabin and the desolate, rural road it’s on. I didn’t see any houses along it, and he said he owns the private street.
No surprise.
But Nicolas is in the backseat of the AMG, and Ria said she was tired, fell asleep in the bedroom she’s apparently sharing with Nicolas.
I’m tired, too, but I’m more hungry than tired and Jeremiah wanted to take us out to eat.
“Why? Worried she’ll run?” My brother laughs, switching gears as he switches lanes, glancing in the rear-view mirror. “She’s not you, baby.”
Nicolas says nothing from the back and when I glance over my shoulder, he’s frowning down at his phone, thumbs flying over his screen.
I turn back in my seat, looking at the sinking sun.
“Is it safe there?” I counter. “I mean you have so many people that hate you…” I shrug, trailing off, biting back my smile.
Jeremiah makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat. “A lot of people love me,” he counters, and I can tell from his tone I’m not going to like his next words. “Women, especially.”
I think about the dancer in his lap at Nicolas’s birthday and my stomach twists into knots. I hate that.
I like to think it’s just the baby, growing and shit.
“Whatever,” I mutter, leaning back in the seat and letting my eyes flutter closed. “Wake me up when we get wherever the hell you’re going.”
Jeremiah’s hand comes over my belly, making me gasp, but I bite my lip, keep my eyes closed as his fingers splay over the sheer black tank I’m wearing, a lime green bra underneath. I even changed into a leather skirt—with an elastic waist, but still. No one has to know all that.
My blood runs hot as Jeremiah brushes his thumb up and down my low belly, his other fingers gently pressing into my skin. “Watch yourself,” he says softly. “You’ve gotten so mouthy lately.”
A smile graces my lips and I wish it didn’t. I wish I didn’t fall for every cruel fucking word he says, but I like it.
