Page 52 of Filthy Twisted Devil
He doesn’t pull away until my legs finally stop trembling. He carefully pulls my dress and underwear back into place, then gazes up at me. His face looks absolutely wrecked, still shining with my slick. He drags his thumb across his bottom lip and sucks it clean, his eyes on mine the whole time, and I nearly slide down the wall. My heart thuds so hard that I wonder if he can feel it.
He stands, lowering his mouth an inch from mine. “Wildflower,” he whispers.
After that, he doesn’t kiss me. He just licks his lips, looking like he’s not even close to done with me. As curious as I am about what would happen if I stayed, my flight leaves in a few hours. So I pick up my bag and leave him in the hallway.
I can feel his eyes follow me as I go.
21
EDEN
Christmas
“Who’s on burner three?” Wade demands, brandishing a spatula. “Your pancakes are burning!”
“Sorry!” Jasper says. “I was cutting the fruit salad.”
“There’s no ticking clock on a pineapple,” Wade scolds. “Get it together. The bacon’s been done for ten minutes.”
“I’m doing my best. Reed’s not doing anything,” Jasper adds resentfully.
Reed holds up his cup of coffee. “I’m caffeinating.”
I lean toward him and whisper, “I saw you pour whiskey in that mug.”
“Toronto didn’t turn you into a narc, did it, Edie?”
“If you wanted my secrecy, you should have offered me some.”
“Why, when I know you’ll just say no?” Reed nudges me with his elbow. “The Good Little Sister doesn’t indulge until happy hour, even on Christmas.”
“Maybe Toronto changed me a little.” I nudge my mug over. “Just a smidge, though.”
Reed waits until Wade and Jasper’s backs are turned and adds a little whiskey to my coffee. We clink glasses and sip.
It’s a longtime Locke tradition that the kids make Christmas brunch for Mom while she lays in bed watching Love Actually. It always goes exactly the same. Wade and I are the only ones who actually wake up with our alarm, so we come down and get started with the prep work. Jasper scrambles down halfway through cooking, then argues so much with Reed that I quit shortly after. Reed shows up when and if he feels like it, snatching bacon off the plate and otherwise not contributing.
When I think of home, I picture this kitchen. It hasn’t been renovated since the 80s, and it has the warped linoleum and honey brown cabinets to match. It smells like cleaning solution and coffee and freshly baked bread. Now, as I sip my coffee, I can add the scent of whiskey to the mix.
“So, Edie, how’s your boooooyyyfriend?” Reed croons.
My face flushes slightly. “He’s good.”
In fact, Luke has been texting me since I woke up this morning.
Luke
How was your flight?
Eden
I sat next to a 60-year-old Santa Claus lookalike. He snored.
Luke
Wow, you should have let me give you that Christmas present I bought.
Eden
