Kings of Anarchy (Brutal Boys of Everlake Prep #3) - Caroline Peckham Page 0,99

than he had been about watching the two of us with her.

"I still think I'll win next time," Tatum said mockingly as she let Saint tug her down the passageway and I quickly grabbed the scraps of her clothing while Kyan retrieved her phone.

"Next time?" I called after her, not even caring how obvious it was that I wanted that so damn much.

"Yeah," she replied, looking over her shoulder and biting her lip just before Saint tugged her around the corner.

I exchanged a look with Kyan and his smirk let me know he was thinking about next time too. And I was wondering just how soon that might be.

F inding a way to get into Saint's laptop for Monroe’s revenge plans against his father was a good distraction for everything on my mind. And as the days drifted by, I focused on that and nothing else. But I’d finally slipped. In the early hours of the morning I’d had a dream about Dad. I’d woken up choking on my own breath and had snuck out of Blake's bed into the bathroom and let myself cry until the tears wouldn’t come anymore.

Now, I felt tired and hurting this morning, my wounds ripped freshly open and stinging like they’d been doused in alcohol. At least I had this to focus on. While Saint had been preparing to do school work last night, I'd managed to get a recording on my phone of him entering his password. All me and Monroe needed was to decipher it and secure some alone time with his laptop. Which might have been simple for any other target, but Saint was one meticulous asshole. So we had to wait for an opportunity and dive on it the moment it appeared.

I sat on the couch with my head in Kyan's lap, my feet on Blake’s legs and my kindle propped up on my knees. It was hard to concentrate on the book I was reading as Blake ran the pad of his thumb around my bare heel and Kyan absentmindedly trailed his fingers through my hair. They were watching a movie about some race car dude that I wasn't really interested in.

Saint sat across from me in his wing back chair, his foot balanced on his knee and his gaze on his phone. He apparently couldn't get into the movie either, but he always spent this hour with us after dinner no matter what, then he'd either do some work or head to Ash Chambers to play piano. I'd never heard him play before but according to Blake he was ‘epic as shit’ and I was hardly surprised.

Saint kept glancing over at us, his gaze moving from me to where the guys were touching me then back to his phone. Every time he did, the frown on his brow deepened and I wondered what he was thinking. Did he wish he could join us over here?

He had punished them for breaking my rules by making them eat all of their meals without cutlery for two full days, but I was pretty sure that had backfired on him when he’d had to watch them shovel pasta into their mouths with their bare hands. I honestly wished he’d just let the rules go at this point. It felt like a lifetime ago that I’d wanted to implement them and seeing as he’d watched me taking part in the rule breaks, I knew he was well aware of how much I’d enjoyed breaking them. But any time I tried to bring up changing them he refused to even entertain the idea, and if he was content to torture himself over them then that was up to him. They certainly weren’t going to stop me from exploring the new perks to my relationship with the two men who were currently caressing me.

Saint's cast was off at last and his ribs finally healed enough for him to return to normal, the doctors having given him the all clear via a video consultation, much to everyone’s relief. He was back to working out every morning and late at night, exhausting himself to the point of almost collapsing. I wondered about the demons that must have haunted him to make him the way he was. No one needed to put their body through the wringer like that twice a day unless they were trying to keep something out. Sometimes, I pitied him. Other times, I hated him. And more recently, I liked him far more than