the house, making sure to close the door behind me. “Will you let her know I’m here?” I call out.
She continues walking away from the grand foyer, lifting her right hand to throw me the finger.
“Okay then.” I take the stairs two at a time and knock on her bedroom door. “I said not right now, Demi …” She yanks the door open but stops when she sees it’s me.
“Hey,” I say gently.
She has her blond hair up in a high ponytail, and my Hollywood Undead T-shirt on that I got at the concert the guys and I went to last summer with a pair of skinny jeans and pink high heels. My cock instantly hardens. She knows what it does to me when she wears my clothes.
“What do you want, Deke?” she demands, before looking out in the hallway to see if we are alone. Her arms cross over her chest, and those big blue eyes narrow on me—just like her sister. Both Holt women seem to hate me today. This house is like a motherfucking ice castle—cold. “Or should I call you Evan Scott?”
My jaw tightens at her sarcasm. “You know my name is Deke.”
“I’m not sure what I know anymore.” She shrugs.
“Becky …”
A noise to my left has us both turning to look, and we see Demi coming up the stairs carrying a bottle of water. She looks at her sister and then at me before she walks right past us with her nose up in the air.
Becky grabs my arm and yanks me into her room, slamming the door shut behind us. I take that as an invitation and step into her. She stiffens. Placing my hands on her hips, I pull her to me. My hard cock straining against my jeans.
“Deke,” she warns, feeling it.
I lower my head to her neck and inhale. Her scent of strawberries hits my nose, and I bite my tongue to keep from moaning. I love it when my clothes smell like her. My bed. My car. I love knowing she was there. With me. All mine.
“Well, let me remind you it’s me, baby.” My voice is rough, and my cock throbs. I wish we were alone. I’ve fucked her in this room so many times before, but since I know Demi is in the room right next door, I won’t.
“No.” She shoves me away, and I go willingly. I honestly didn’t come here to get between her legs. Although that would be a bonus. Or her mouth. “Who the fuck is Evan Scott?”
I run a hand through my hair. “I had to create a fake profile for a dare.”
She rolls her eyes. “Why am I not surprised?” I just stare at her. And she glares at me. “And?”
“Shane dared me to record myself setting his dad’s boat on fire in a live video. I couldn’t upload it to my real profile because then they would know it was me. So I invented Evan Scott.”
“That is the dumbest shit I have ever heard.” She sighs. “When was this?”
“Remember when the police were investigating the man burning in a boat a few years back?” Think it was sophomore year.
“Yeah,” she answers slowly.
I point at myself, and her eyes widen.
“That was you? They had divers searching the water for hours. They were pissed when they found out it was some stupid prank.”
I nod. “Shane and I made a scarecrow and dressed him in black jeans and a black hoodie. And we put him in his dad’s boat. We drove it out into the middle of the water and set the straw on fire. Then we took a Sea-Doo back. We stood at the shore recording it as it burned. It was in the middle of the night, so all you could see was this figure burning. Bennett took care of it, making sure to hide the IP address so it couldn’t be traced back to us.”
She hangs her head and sighs. “I can’t believe this.” Then her eyes are back on mine. “That doesn’t excuse you for what you did to Austin,” she snaps.
“Becky …”
“No, Deke!” She shoves her finger into my chest, and her eyes begin to well with tears. I’m not like Cole. I hate it when Becky cries. “What made you share them kissing on your page but not them having sex in the bathroom?”
The answer is simple. “Cole told me what he wanted to be posted and what page to post it on. And Austin knew it was