Before & After - Nazarea Andrews Page 0,58

shrieks, a noise he cuts off with a curse and a hand across her mouth, yanking her head back by the hair and hissing, “Quiet, sweetheart. Or I stop.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she mutters.

Peyton makes a little huff of air, and I slide a hand between us, toying with her clit as I fuck her. “You like listening to them, sweetheart? Watching Scott fuck her. You love it.”

Her eyes find mine, and I see guilt there—mixed with the glassy desire is conflicted guilt, and I lean into her, kissing her hard and fast. “I love everything about you, Fish. Even the dirty girl who plays rough and likes her sex dangerous. You want him to watch me fuck you?”

Her body shakes, answering me for her as she shatters into another orgasm, and on the other side of the room, Lindsay whimpers, a long, drawn out noise as Scott hisses her name. I look over at them—we both look—and I come as Peyton pulls me into her, biting my chest hard as she rides out the climax, and we watch them orgasm.

It’s hot and dirty, and for a long moment, the room is silent except for the sound of us breathing. Scott moves first, sliding out of Lindsay, and I swallow my groan as he reaches between her legs, cleaning her up with his hand before he brings his fingers to his lips. She watches as he cleans his fingers and Peyton gasps when Lindsay goes up on tiptoes to kiss him.

Scott’s head lifts, and I shift Peyton, shielding her before Scott slaps Lindsay’s ass. “Come on, babe.”

She grumbles but they put themselves back together and she slips out.

Just before he does, his gaze darts to us, too knowing and serious.

Then the door shuts and closes off the noise of the bar. I slip free of Peyton and she redresses quickly and gives me a curious look. “What was that last thing?”

I shrug. “Scott’s a kinky bastard.” She arches an eyebrow, and I grin. “Guess I can’t really point fingers on that account.”

“No,” she says dryly. “Not really.”

I pull her into me and kiss her. Her hands come up to grip my arms, and when I pull back, it’s to lean my forehead against hers. “Are we ok?” I ask softly.

She nods and brushes my lips again. “Always, Jokes.”

Chapter 26: After

Being with you is never

Easy.

It's long nights and

Cryptic answers, and Constant challenges.

(Rike’s poems to Peyton)

Being back at the house is like living someone else’s life. The first few days are awkward as I navigate around Scott and Rike. They’re both busy for the first two days after I arrive, building ramps and supervising the crew moving Scott and Lindsay’s bedroom downstairs. I drift between them, trying to find where I belong. The problem isn’t them. They both are quick to include me in all their conversations, ask me what I want to do and eat and if there’s a movie or a song I want to hear—they’re so quick and eager, it’s almost suffocating.

And when I do snap at them and slap them back into their place, they regard me with wide, hurt eyes. Like I just smacked their puppy instead of their feelings.

That happens four times before I retreat into my loft studio and hide there for most of a day. Rike comes twice to check on me, but it’s a cursory thing. He’s distracted. And I understand. We both get it. I’m here for Lindsay and the family the four of us created, more than I am for him.

Or. That’s what I keep telling myself.

The truth is, I’m here for both. Lindsay is allowing me to come back under a pretense that gives me some dignity instead of me calling and sobbing that I miss him. Because I did. I don’t think I realized how much I missed him until I’m back, and he’s everywhere and nowhere, a constant fucking presence that keeps me grounded and high.

It’s a little disconcerting. And I would never admit this to anyone—except perhaps Lindsay—but I love it.

“Babe?”

I blink as Rike appears at the top of my staircase. I’m sitting in front of an easel, working on a watercolor that hasn’t really taken shape for me yet. I’ve been sketching since I hugged Brody goodbye in Austin. This is the first time since I woke up in the hospital that I’ve touched paints. His eyes go wide as he takes that in, and I see the struggle to not comment. To treat me like