Page 73 of The Faking Game
“Do you ever say yes?” he asks. His other hand is on my low back now, brushing over the bare skin.
“Almost never. I say I would have loved to, but I travel so much…”
“You lie.” His voice holds only wry understanding. Not judgment. “You turn them down, cloaked in niceties.”
“Yes.”
“You’re the prettiest little liar I’ve ever met.” His large hand is warm around mine, where it lies on my thighs, fingers woven through my own. “And you make it look so easy. But it’s not, is it?”
“Not always.” I look out at the game again. “Why your cousin?”
He’s quiet for a long moment. “I told you that there’s an expectation that I need an heir. If I don’t, the next Calloway in direct line is my cousin Dave.”
“Not Amber?”
“No. She hates that. I hate that. I’m working on getting it fixed,” West mutters. “But I dislike him immensely, and I don’t want him to think he’s close to getting… everything.”
“He might kill you. That’s motive right there, isn’t it?”
He laughs. The sound makes me turn to him fully. “West?”
“Your mind works in wondrous ways sometimes.”
“But I’m not wrong.”
“No, you’re not. Too bad I couldn’t bring the guards inside tonight.” He doesn’t sound troubled. He sounds amused, and his hand tightens around mine. “Everyone’s looking at you. You’ve never been here before. They’re interested. And you look…”
My breath catches. From somewhere left of us, a loud moan cuts above the music. “Like what?”
“Like you don’t belong,” he says. “Like an angel that’s wandered into hell.”
His hand is tan against the silky white of my dress. It’s ridden up, showing off most of my legs from just above my knees. My heels dangle from my high spot on his lap.
“I dressed on theme.”
“Devastatingly so.”
Another moan echoes from somewhere in the space, followed by a low, masculine groan. My cheeks burn, but I can’t help glancing toward the sound.
His fingers brush over my neck, my cheek. Push my hair back. “Would you like to get closer? Watch more?”
“No,” I say. Too quickly.
“You’re too good for this party. I should feel bad for bringing you here. For corrupting you.”
“But you don’t,” I murmur. My eyes land on the couple on the other side, and my entire body tightens.
They’re having sex now.
He’s on his knees, and she’s laid out in front of him on her back. He’s thrusting into her in slow, rolling motions. Her eyes are closed and her arms stretched up above her head. I can see the thickness of him disappearing and reappearing between her legs with each thrust.
“That can’t be normal,” I say.
My fingers are still playing with West’s idly, and at my incredulous tone, they twitch.
“Having sex?” he asks.
“No, but she looks like it’s the best thing she’s ever experienced.” My head is swimming again, and my tongue feels loose. Looser than it’s ever been around West. “He’s not even touching her… her… god. Never mind.”
