“Power,” Rose proclaims, raising her chin.
Ryke shakes his head. “There’s better f**king ways to feel safe than retaliating.” His eyes ping from me, to Rose, to Daisy, and then back to me.
I hesitate between siding with Lo, who I believe is right about not provoking our neighbors, or with my sisters, who need my support. “Daisy should decide,” I realize. I want to do what Daisy feels is best. She’s the one who’s frightened the most.
Daisy wavers uneasily, all eyes pinning to her. Ryke stands behind her, his arms wrapped around her chest so no one can see her ni**les. That’s even cuter than the hand holding. I catch my expression in the mirror. Oh my God, my smile is so dopey looking.
“I…don’t want to upset anyone,” she finally says.
“You won’t,” Connor tells her. “Everyone has their own opinions, and we’ll respect yours. Though there is a right answer and a wrong answer here.”
Rose smacks his chest with the back of her hand. He catches it and kisses her palm.
“Can I have some time to think about it?” Daisy asks.
“Yes,” I say before Rose shoots her down. “It’s probably better if you think about it first.”
Surprisingly, Rose nods in agreement, though I bet she’s still plotting revenge scenarios in her mind. I wish I had a voodoo doll or magic where I could enact non-lethal punishment from afar. Like Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Though her spells usually backfired.
I hook my finger through the hem of Lo’s sweatpants, and I lock eyes with Daisy. “Sleepover?”
“What are you talking about?” Ryke asks.
Rose’s fingers are laced with Connor’s. “We were considering spending the night in one of the guest rooms, just us girls.”
Ryke’s features darken like an incoming thunderstorm. He obviously would rather her sleep with him, but maybe he’s afraid she’ll kick us too. And I wonder what he does at night to make her feel safe and whether she’ll even be able to fall asleep with us.
“Speak,” Rose snaps at him.
“If Daisy wants to have a sleepover with you two that’s f**king fine,” Ryke declares. “I’m not going to tell her what to do. All I want is what she wants.”
The corners of Rose’s lips curve upwards. “You are so much better than Julian.”
Lo lets out a dry laugh. “Over half of the male population is better than Daisy’s ex-boyfriend.”
“Don’t f**king remind me about him,” Ryke says.
Daisy clears her throat. “I do know what I want to do, about sleeping tonight.” Everyone focuses on her. She inhales strongly and says, “I think I should sleep in my own bed. I really don’t want to roll over onto one of you, and I’m afraid I’ll be so freaked about it…and other things that I won’t fall asleep.”
I nod understandingly, as does Rose.
“Thanks for telling us your feelings,” I say to Daisy with a smile.
She smiles back.
I would’ve liked either one she chose, but this one is a very good option. I’m getting Loren Hale tonight.
My most favorite thing in the world.
4
LILY CALLOWAY
The champagne-colored comforter bunches at the bottom of the king-sized bed, and neither of us wastes energy to tug them up. A thin layer of sweat coats my body, and despite the faint exhaustion swirling around me, I crave a repeat.
My fluctuating hormones have not helped my cause. At all.
Lo tilts his head on the dark red pillow beside me, lying on his back as his chest rises and falls in a heavy rhythm. Of all the places we’ve lived together, this room is the most spacious and suits our personalities the best. A black chandelier with candles (instead of glitzy diamonds) hangs above our bed. Two black armoires sit beside a comfy suede couch and dark purple chairs, red throw pillows and a champagne rug in addition. It actually feels like home.
I squirm, clamping my thighs together, while I watch Lo’s breathing, and I ache to touch his abs.
He licks his lips and says, “Not good enough, I take it.”
“What?” I squeak out, my eyes wide. It was very good. Stellar. Worthy of rocket ships and trips to the moon.
Dimples dot his cheeks as he tries hard not to smile. “You have that look.”
“What look?” I turn to face him fully, my hip on the soft mattress.
“The one that says you want me to f**k you again,” he tells me, so casually. But it has a way of lighting up my core with newfound eagerness and desire.
“Oh…that look.” I try to clear my face. It barely works. I’m staring too hard at his lips, the soft pink ones that beg to be kissed. “You know just because I may want to do it again, it doesn’t mean that the other time wasn’t good enough.”
“I know,” he breathes. “I’m just teasing you, Lil.” He draws me closer to his waist, and I think, maybe, his hand will descend to the very wet spot between my legs. Instead, his palm slides from my collar to my stomach.
I’m partly grateful that I’m not that big and round yet. Some positions will be harder during sex, and yeah, it’s a selfish thought, one that I have been trying really hard to overcome. Because in about five months, I’ll need to be completely selfless—or at least have a somewhat controlled sex life.
“Have you felt anything yet?” he asks softly, his fingers circling my belly.
I don’t know if he’s trying to distract me from sex or if this is a legitimate question. When he grabs the crumpled sheet by his ankles and pulls it over our waists, hiding his c**k from view, I think it’s probably the former. But I answer anyway.
“No,” I whisper. “Not that I’m looking forward to it. It’s going to be weird.” I’ll like knowing my baby is alive and active, but just the idea of something alive and moving inside of me has a certain creep factor. Remembering that the baby is a part of Lo lessens some of that.
“You’d tell me though, right?” he asks, his eyes flitting to mine. “I want to know when it happens for the first time.”
It’s my turn to try and contain my smile. Lo has been supportive since he found out that I was pregnant. The fact that he never wanted children—that this baby was an unwelcome surprise rather than a joyous one—has been shelved somewhere else. Somewhere too far to ever reach again.
“I tell you everything,” I remind him. “Like how I dumped my goldfish crackers in a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream. Which was so good but so gross.” It’s my favorite snack.
“It was disgusting,” Lo confirms. He props his elbow on the bed, his fingers lightly brushing my hipbone.
I close my eyes, practically melting, and his hand drifts back up to my collar. So mean. When I open them again, I catch sight of the white envelope on the nightstand. “Maybe we shouldn’t wait.”
Lo follows my gaze and shakes his head. “Rose will kill you.”
He’s right. A few weeks ago, she was obsessively eating oranges while I dunked my gold fish in an ocean of ice cream. As she ripped the peel off, she said that she wanted to be present when I learned the sex of my baby.
She was intimidatingly scary, but I would’ve said yes, even if she was all smiles. So after my ultrasound, we told the doctor to seal the news in an envelope. There it rests. I think I can wait until the morning.
“What do you want?” I ask him a question that we’ve both dodged for some time. “A boy or a girl?” Deep down, I know my answer, even if I wish I could be neutral and long for a boy and a girl equally.