Bastards and Scapegoats (Twisted Legacy Duet #1) - CoraLee June Page 0,17

spot. I sometimes try to stay up so I can visit with her when I’m home.”

I took a dollop of sour cream and put it on my plate. “How’d you meet?” I asked. I wanted to learn more about Hamilton.

“We both went to school together. I’ve known her since I was in eighth grade. We were both outcasts in our families. Her father was a wealthy preacher that directed a local mega church. When she came out, it was a whole scandal.”

“Ouch,” I replied before taking a big bite of food. Flavor burst on my tongue, and I nearly died from bliss right there in my seat. “Fuck, this is good,” I moaned.

Hamilton grinned. “Thank you.”

I continued to chew. Little Mama was lying at my feet, and Hamilton had poured me a glass of red wine that I hadn’t touched. “So how many years of friendship is that?” I asked, hopefully sounding casual as I asked his age. Hamilton was definitely younger than my stepfather, but he carried himself in a way that felt more mature than most. It was like he’d seen the world. I once read a book that said trauma aged a person. Bad experiences had the power of maturity.

“Is that your way of asking how old I am?” he teased.

“I’m just curious. I’m going to be almost nineteen years older than my younger sibling. You both seem to have a similar age difference.”

“I’m twenty-eight,” Hamilton answered before taking another bite.

“Not too old,” I replied before reaching for my glass of wine. He clicked his tongue and reached over the tabletop to grab the glass before I could. Our fingers brushed in the process.

“I didn’t realize you were underaged. Would you like a juice box? Fuck. I could have gone to prison for the stunt I pulled at the wedding. Thank hell you aren’t a high schooler.”

“I don’t need a juice box,” I snapped back.

“A bottle of milk then?” he teased.

“Hilarious.” My dry response had Hamilton laughing. Sure enough, he got up and dumped the contents of my glass out and pulled out some cranberry juice from the fridge. I watched him pour some in my glass and shook my head in amusement when he set it in front of me.

“Here. You can pretend to be a big kid now.”

“You do realize you gave me whiskey earlier, right?”

“That was before I realized you were barely an adult,” he retorted.

“The legal drinking limit is a joke. I can sign up to go to war, but I can’t buy a beer?”

“You’re too pretty for war,” Hamilton whispered before going back to his seat. His lips formed into a slow, building smile as he stared intently at me. I met his gaze head on as he licked his lips. My heart pounded, and he took a sip of his drink. “Besides, I don’t take you as much of a drinker.”

I shifted my weight on the hard wooden kitchen chair. “I’m not. I never really had time for wild teen acts of rebellion,” I admitted before scraping my fork across my plate.

“My entire life has been one big act of rebellion,” Hamilton replied with a laugh before leaning back in his chair. “What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done then, hmm?” His question made me blush. I knew my answer almost immediately. The memory that bombarded me was both intrusive and dirty. I had to fight the smile begging to cross my face. Hamilton’s eyebrow arched. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

I licked my lips and averted my eyes. “It’s nothing, really. Compared to what you’ve probably done.”

Hamilton leaned forward. “It’s all relative. Don’t compare your wild to someone else’s.”

“The comparison trap is a slippery slope,” I agreed.

Hamilton bit his lip and folded his hands under his chin, as if preparing to listen intently to me. “Now tell me what has those pretty cheeks of yours turning pink. Give me your worst.” I let out an exhale and tucked a stray hair behind my ear while looking at the kitchen. I inhaled the smell of our dinner while prolonging the inevitable. “I’m waiting.”

“Fine,” I replied before dragging my eyes to his. The intensity that met me made me gasp. “I had sex with the quarterback of our high school football team in a science lab. It was my first time, but he was gentle with me. We’d been flirting a lot,” I said before stopping to pick at my nails. I hadn’t orgasmed, which wasn’t a deal breaker in the