Beneath These Lies (Page 53)
“Fuck, I wish I was inside you right now.”
“Why aren’t you?” My body was molded to his, and more than ready.
He pressed up on his elbows. “Because there’s a kid in the house, and I don’t roll that way. But I gotta get out of this bed or I’m gonna forget I have a problem with it.”
Trinity. Crap. I forgot.
How could I forget?
I rolled out from under Rix, only because he let me this time.
“I need to make sure she’s still okay. And get her some breakfast. And—”
Rix snagged my hand. “Chill out. It’s okay. She’s fine.”
I might have growled at him, but I’d never admit it.
Rix laughed again and dropped my hand. “Or don’t chill out. Do what you need to do. I’m gonna grab a shower.”
Rix in my shower. After he spent the night in my bed. And we’d decided we were keeping each other. Things were becoming awfully domestic all of a sudden.
The rational voice inside my head whispered this couldn’t last, so I might as well enjoy it while I could. I quieted that voice, but decided the advice about enjoying it wasn’t a bad idea.
I pulled on some clothes and made my way downstairs as I heard the shower water kick on. I wanted to rush back to the bathroom and make sure he was properly caring for whatever kind of injury he had, but I stopped myself cold. Rix’s body was not only tattooed, but scarred. I’d never asked any questions, and it seemed that was exactly how he liked it. He was a capable, grown man and didn’t need me fussing all over him.
He also didn’t need me killing him off with my cooking. I racked my brain for the fastest breakfast places around that might deliver if promised a hefty tip, but the thoughts died when the scent of food hit me.
Bless that girl, she was getting a raise. A big one.
Steam rose from the waffle maker and Trinity scrambled eggs on the stove.
I crossed to the espresso machine and pressed the button, watching as the dark liquid poured into a shot glass.
“I have a waffle maker?”
“It was in the pantry, still in the box. I took a chance, assuming you actually like waffles and didn’t know how to operate it.”
“I’m sure it came with directions . . . I just didn’t try to figure it out.”
“You know you’ve got at least six other appliances in boxes in your pantry. What gives?” She turned and shot me a laughing grin as I sipped my espresso.
“My mother. She thinks I’m going to become a housewife who cooks one of these days. Actually, she’s hoping I’ll start pinning recipes and DIY vertical gardens on Pinterest, and get so caught up I start pinning wedding ideas. She’s crazy, because that’s never going to happen.”
Trinity raised an eyebrow. “You planning on more of a courthouse gig? Your daddy officiating?”
I jerked my head back. “Whoa, let’s not even go there. A wedding is not part of my plans anytime soon.”
That’s the moment Rix decided to walk into the kitchen, hair still wet.
I swear he just took the shortest shower in the history of the planet.
“Good, because I ain’t got a ring.”
I choked on the last sip of my coffee and started coughing. Trinity’s eyes lit up, and Rix opened the fridge, ignoring both our reactions in favor of orange juice.
Again, this whole scene was wildly domestic. And somehow . . . easy. Except for the fact that my espresso had gone down the very wrong pipe called what the hell did you just say.
Rix held up the OJ. “You want some, duchess?”
I nodded. “Please.”
“I already have some, thanks.”
And so our morning started with Trinity cooking to keep us all from getting food poisoning and keeping Rix from knowing about my complete lack of skill in the kitchen.
Conversation was light as we ate, mostly about the Saints and Trinity’s plans for art school. She was strangely silent on the Derrick front, but I didn’t bring him up. I was assuming that she and Rix knew way more about what was going on with him, and for once, I didn’t want to know.
There, Rix. I can play your game when I choose to.
As much as I loved hearing Trinity going on and on about art school, I was a little concerned what would happen when Derrick was back in the picture—if he came back. She was still a very young eighteen, and that boy had clearly melted enough of her brain that she didn’t make the best decisions.
On the other hand, if she hadn’t gotten wrapped up in him, I wouldn’t be sitting at my kitchen table with his “boss” either. Which was another situation that was only half-resolved and didn’t seem to have any easy answers.
Rix’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he stood to take the call. As soon as he’d left the room, Trinity turned to me.
“You’re gonna marry that man. I already know it. You better learn how to cook, girl, because he’s the kind that comes with quite an appetite.” She winked at me.
I wasn’t going to touch that statement with a ten-foot pole, especially not with Rix only one room away. The deep rumble of his voice carried just enough for me to lose the easy feeling I’d had most of the morning.
“I want patrols 24/7. We’re not fucking around. They’ll be back for blood.”
Chills ran through me at his prediction to whomever was on the other end of the call. Trinity’s face went blank and she gathered up the dishes. I decided to follow her lead, because I didn’t know what else to do. Any questions that I had would be met with silence or a refusal to answer.