Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Zeph blanches, and I hold back a grin. “Oh, uhhhh. It’s in the shop getting a detail,” he says, focusing way too intently on the screen. “I should have it back tomorrow.”
“Oh, right,” I say, lifting the glass to my lips and enjoying the sweet burn of whiskey as it flows down my throat. “I’m heading that way tomorrow. I’ll pick it up for you.”
Zeph’s head whips toward me like a fucking bobble-head doll, his eyes wide. “Oh, ummm . . . You don’t need to do that. I’ve already organized door-to-door service. They’ll drop it off when it’s ready.”
“What seems to be the problem, Zeph? You look a little . . . on edge.”
He holds my stare for just a moment, his gaze narrowed as if trying to figure out if his little white lie has landed, and clearly assuming that it has, he shrugs me off, turning his gaze back to the TV. “Nah. Nah, I’m good.”
A smirk stretches across my face. There’s nothing I love more than messing with my son. “Okay good. So, there’s nothing at all you want to tell me about your car?”
His gaze shifts back to mine, a deep curiosity in his stare. “Fuck,” he says, letting out a heavy sigh. “You know, don’t you?”
“Of course, I fucking know. My son hands his car over to some woman he just met to go and do fuck knows what, and he thinks I’m not going to find out,” I say. “Jesus, Zeph. That car could be in a chop shop for all you know.”
“She was running late,” he says as though that’s a good reason to hand over the keys to his Range Rover. “What was I supposed to do?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Drive her!”
Zeph rolls his eyes as Jordan laughs. “You met her. She didn’t strike me as a criminal mastermind. Besides, she lives close to campus. I’ll grab it tomorrow. It’s really not a big deal.”
I let out a breath. This son of mine can often be oblivious to what’s right in front of his face. “I’m sure your car will be safe with her. That’s not the point I’m trying to make,” I tell him. “The point is that you shouldn’t be handing your keys over to people you’ve just met. It’s careless.”
Jordan snickers and glances at Zeph. “Ahhh, the things we do for pussy.”
I roll my eyes, but honestly, the kid’s got a point. I’ve known the toughest men who’ve crumbled for the smallest taste of a woman. Hell, I fucked my son’s girl just last night.
“How’d your night go anyway?” I ask. “Is this Tilly the future Mrs. Di Rozé?”
Zeph blanches again. “The fuck? Cool your jets. I only just met her yesterday,” he says. “But no. We’re just friends. She’s like one of the guys.”
“So, you like to fuck the guys?”
“What? No. Fuck.”
I laugh to myself. He makes it too easy. “You should invite her around,” I say, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I get a chance to stop them. “I offered the poor girl a meal and you kept her locked up in your room all night. You wouldn’t want her thinking we’re rude.”
“Since when do you care about being a good host?”
“I don’t. But I care about being the type of man who follows through on my word.”
“Fine,” Zeph says, blowing out a breath. “I’m down to spend another night with Tilly.”
Jordan scoffs, his gaze lifting to mine, his brows pinched. “Hold the fuck up. You’ve never invited me to stay for dinner.”
“That’s because you already help yourself to everything in my kitchen,” I remind him. “Besides, you’re not the beautiful woman who I had the pleasure of hearing come over and over again all night.”
“Ahh, shit,” Zeph says, having the audacity to appear sheepish. “You heard that?”
I stare at my son as I finish off what’s left of my whiskey. “You fucked the girl on my couch. Then on the stairs, and up against the wall outside your bedroom, before taking her again in the den. If you were looking for discreet, then you should have gone into your room and locked the door. Besides, neither of you are particularly quiet about your conquests.”
Jordan laughs as Zeph scrunches his face. “My bad.”
“Damn straight. Now, invite that girl over, and this time, be a goddamn gentleman.”
8
TILLY
The light in my bedroom flickers as though it’s being summoned by the underworld as I try to concentrate on the psychology essay that’s been staring back at me for the better part of three days. There’s no use, words are too hard, especially when all I’ve been able to think about is a particular daddy taking me raw on the couch on Tuesday night—a couch that his son had only just fucked me on hours before.
What the hell is wrong with me? Who sleeps with a father and his son in the same night? Who lets a man she’s never met go bare back? But damn. It was so worth it. The way Caesar fucked me. Goddamn. Just the way he touched me, the way his eyes roamed over my body as though I was the most delicious woman he’d ever laid eyes on. It was incredible. I’ve never felt so alive, and despite that need finally being satisfied within me, I can’t help but want more.