Page 123 of Twisted Obsession

He’s just trying to help.

Right?

I mean, I guess it comes down to if I trust Lucy. I trusted Jacob, and look what happened. I thought my father would be a good lead, andthatdidn’t end well either.

“Did you know me in high school?”

He doesn’t seem put off by the abrupt change of subject, and he shakes his head. “No. Why?”

“So we weren’t friends.”

“Not even a little.”

I narrow my eyes. “Then why—?”

“Theo is my best friend,” he interrupts. “Theo loves Lucy, so much so that she’s an extension of him. Same with Liam and Skylar. Because you’reLucy’sfriend, you’re all of our friend.”

Huh.

“Okay,” I allow. “If you could look into that for me… I’d appreciate it.”

He opens the door, our confidential conversation clearly over, and I hurry past him.

“Bye,” he calls to the girls in the kitchen.

The front door closes, and I rejoin Lucy and Skylar. The latter is dressed for the day, although in clearly casual clothes. Her blonde hair is up. Leggings, a dark-blue sweatshirt, white sneakers.

“Are you leaving, too?”

“Once Liam finishes getting ready,” she says with a smile. “We’ve got to get back to Boston.”

I take a seat at the breakfast bar. Theo emerges and goes straight for the fridge, pulling out food. My stomach growls, and my face goes hot. I need to figure out how to get home. Before I can check out flights back to Denver, my phone screen illuminates with an incoming call.

“You good with eggs, Melody?”

“Sure,” I murmur, distracted by the name.

Jacob Rhodes.

Of course.

I answer it at the last second. “You’re calling me?”

“I want to meet your friends,” he says.

His voice is honey. And I press my thighs together automatically. I don’t need the reminder that he was able to sneak into—or rather,break into—this place without permission. And when I woke up this morning, with his cum smeared on my inner thighs, it made me ache all the more.

“I don’t know about that,” I reply. “You’re not very nice.”

“I’m perfectly nice.” He scoffs. “I’m the nicest. I made my girl come on my tongue last night, even though she was decidedly naughty.”

“Maybe I like it that way.”

“Which, my tongue or being bad?”

“Both,” I whisper.

“Let me up.”

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