Chapter 10

ten

. . .

River

I could still feel the pulse of Bishop's cock as he came down my throat, the scrape of Cross's stubble along my neck and shoulder, the burn deep inside as his fingers stretched me. Not to mention the little flutters that accompanied those memories, like my very own ghost of the orgasm he'd given me.

Great, my vagina's haunted. Gigi will be so proud.

I dropped my forehead on my vanity with a groan. I'd been doing so well resisting Cross—if avoiding him was the same as resisting. But all it took was a little voyeurism and Bishop bossing me around, and I was right back where I'd been at eighteen.

You can't blame Sterling. He gave you an out. You were the one who begged for it.

"Ugh," I groaned again, this time banging my head gently on the desk. "Stupid. Stupid. Stupid."

Imagine what it'd be like with Walker in the mix. Three men... three holes. You'd probably die. That thought came through loud and clear in my best friend's voice. Gigi might swallow her tongue when I told her about this. Or name me her patron saint and light a candle in my honor.

Although Walker'd been completely silent on all fronts since he'd shared the joyous nuptial news with all of us. I hadn't done myself any favors with him, though. There was nothing like a crushing rejection to send a man away with his tail between his legs.

God, when he found out about this... he'd never forgive me. Knowing I let his brother fingerblast me while sucking Bishop's dick right there where anyone could find us. Not even a day after I told him I was choosing myself over all of them? Oh my God, I was a terrible human. He didn't deserve this. He'd treated me like I was something precious and to be protected. I turned around and made a sandwich with everyone but him.

Technically, I hadn't done anything wrong. I hadn't made any promises, which meant I couldn't break one. But knowing that didn't do a thing for my guilt.

This was a real pickle, as my mama used to say. And I didn't know how to get out of it. I needed to stay married to Cross for a multitude of reasons, but the big one was a gigantic Russian who apparently didn't take no for an answer.

I sent a text to Walker, hoping he'd answer me now that he'd had time to cool off.

Me:

I'm sorry for how we left things. Can we talk?

When he didn't immediately answer, I sighed and dropped my phone. He was probably giving me a taste of my own medicine. Fair enough. I was bound to run into him sooner or later. This place was massive, but it was still one building. I could wait. Maybe come up with a better explanation for what happened than how I tripped and fell to my knees, but thankfully Bishop was there, and he caught me with his dick. And then Cross tripped, and his hands just happened to tear my dress off and slide right inside me with no help from either of us.

My life was officially a porno. Cue the bad seventies music.

A sharp knock on my door had me on my feet and rushing to answer. Tearing open the door, I breathed, "Walker, I'm?—"

Except it wasn't Walker standing in my doorway, it was Cross. Cross, who'd touched me and left beard burn on my skin. Who'd made me come so hard I saw stars and wished he'd do it all over again, but this time with his big cock.

Jesus. Pull yourself together, River.

"What do you want?" I snapped.

He was too busy devouring me with his eyes to register my tone. "I'm here to take you to dinner."

"I'm not hungry," I said, starting to close the door in his face.

He stopped me with a boot. "I'm not asking."

"You're impossible."

"And you still taste like fucking candy, sparrow." The way his voice rolled over me sent goosebumps across my flesh.

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Flirting with me."

"You're my wife. I can flirt if I want."

I shot him a glare. "I'm your wife now?"

He leaned against the doorframe. "According to that piece of paper, you have been for ten years."

"A piece of paper isn't shit, Cross. You've done nothing but try to make me miserable since I arrived."

"Sounds like every marriage I've ever heard of."

"Well, you don't have a great example to go by. I want the kind of love my parents had, and?—"

"You don't think that's possible with me."

"If the love letter I still have memorized is anything to go by, no."

He winced. "You don't understand."

"Don't I? Allow me to recite it for you, and you can clarify what I don't understand."

He reached out and put his fingers over my mouth before I could start. "You are so fucking stubborn."

"You're just mad because I'm right," I said, my lips rubbing against the fingers that were inside me hours earlier. I was still dick-drunk enough to want to suck them into my mouth. Or bite them off.

"I was young and dumb."

"Still are the latter."

He gritted his teeth, but I saw the flicker of amusement in his eyes. "Come. Eat. Supper's on the table."

I raised a brow. "Is it the corpse of your latest victim? Because I think I'm vegan now."

"Watch it."

"Or what?"

He glared at me, all sorts of wicked promises in his gaze, and fuck if they didn't make me tingle. This was all Bishop's fault. He opened Pandora's box, and now I was a filthy whore.

"Don't make me toss you over my shoulder, River."

He'd do it. No question.

I huffed but grabbed my phone and tucked it into the pocket of my jeans—my poor sundress was ruined, and I'd had to change the second I got back to my room. "Fine. Lead the way."

He didn't speak, simply took me by the hand and tugged me out of my room and down the hall. Instead of turning toward the kitchen where we'd taken most of our meals, he went the opposite direction toward the formal dining room. I hadn't been in here since our families last shared Christmas together.

Tonight the table was set with two place settings directly across from each other, a few candles flickering between the plates covered with silver domes.

"You really went all out."

"You're my wife."

"You keep saying that like it's an explanation."

"Isn't it?"

I shook my head, not wanting to get back on that ride just yet. I was too curious what he'd made us for dinner.

He didn't make it. The chef did. Don't go getting heart eyes for the bastard now. He's playing you. Trying to butter you up. Don't be a bread roll, River! You're smarter than this.

He walked me to my chair, pulling it out and lightly touching my back as I sat.

Before I could say anything, he pulled the dome off my plate. A little breath escaped me.

Consider yourself buttered.

It was a plate of my favorites. Instead of steak and risotto or something equally fancy, it was loaded with mac 'n cheese and tater tots. Granted, they were homemade, and it looked like there might be bacon and perhaps chives in the tots, but they were still my favorites.

"Are you serious?"

A slight smirk twisted up his lips. "The last time I had to make you dinner, this was what you ate."

"I was twelve."

"I can send it back." He reached for my plate.

"No!" I slapped his hand away. Blushing furiously, I grumbled, "You forgot the dino chicken nuggets."

"Such a mature palate."

"Bite me."

That fucker did, right on the side of my neck. "Mmm, maybe we skip the dinner, and I can eat you instead. You'd look so good spread out on the table for me."

I shivered. "No. Just because you made me come doesn't mean you have full access to me whenever you want it."

"Maybe you should tell that to your cunt. Pretty sure she's weeping for me right now."

"Sit down and eat your mac 'n cheese."

One brow lifted as he took his seat across from me and lifted the lid on his, revealing... not mac 'n cheese.

"I'm sorry, what the fuck is that?"

I stared dubiously at the plate of steamed vegetables and... salmon?

"You call yourself a rancher."

"I am a rancher."

I gestured to the plate. "And you went with fish?"

"I like it."

"I don't even know who you are, Daniel Cross Jr."

"Clearly."

My phone chirped from my pocket, saving me from the staring contest happening between me and the smoke show that was the man I'd apparently married. Glancing down at the screen, I smiled at the message.

Sterling:

I can't stop thinking about how pretty you looked today.

Well, that was damn sweet. Unless he was thinking about what I looked like with my lips wrapped around his cock.

Knowing it would annoy my dinner companion, I texted back.

Me:

I bet you say that to all the girls.

"Who's that?" Cross asked, a rumble of disapproval in his tone.

"Why do you care?"

"If someone's gonna make you smile like that, I want to know who it is."

Sterling:

Never. Not once. It's only you, baby.

Shit. My cheeks were surely bright pink if the heat creeping up them was any indication.

"Who is that, sparrow?"

"Bishop."

He heaved a sigh, and something like disappointment crossed his perfect features.

"Jealous?"

"Yes."

"It's not like I'm keeping him a secret."

"Honestly, I'd hoped it was Walker."

"You haven't heard from him either?"

He shook his head and gestured at my plate with his fork. "Eat."

"And if I don't? You gonna send me to my room without dessert, Daddy?"

His eyes blazed. "After I tan your hide for that sassy mouth of yours."

Well, okay then.

I cleared my throat and scooped up a big bite. But before I could enjoy it, my phone went off again.

"Silence it or I'm taking it."

"You are so bossy."

He blinked at me.

Setting my fork down, I made a big show of lifting my phone so I could text Bishop back, but my blood ran cold at the message on the screen.

Unknown:

I left you a present.

Underneath the message was a photo of Walker, unconscious, badly beaten, and slumped over in the dirt in front of the gates to Twisted Cross Ranch.