The devil's advocate

The smile I give him is as arrogant as he is. “Would you like to see the paperwork?”

Cain once told me people will believe anything you feed them if you sound convincing enough. Looking back, that should have been a red flag.

He rubs the dark stubble on his chin. “Yeah, actually, I would.” My stomach knots when his gaze darkens. “Given I’m the owner.”

My smug expression falls. It’s not so much his words—although that’s enough to make me want to piss myself, it’s the absolute possession behind them. Like he’s prepared to dismember and obliterate anyone who threatens to take what belongs to him.

I clutch the granite so hard my knuckles turn white. If I thought I was nervous before, it’s nothing compared to now.

I bite my lip until I taste blood. I’m too afraid to speak for fear I’ll say something to make it worse.  

If agoraphobia is a chink in the armor I pretend to have—anxiety is my Achilles’ heel. The living, breathing succubus I live with day in and day out, and no matter how strong I try to be, or how many medications I try to numb myself with—it will always be my weakness. The root of nearly every issue I grapple with daily.

Unlike my mother, who was a force to be reckoned with, a weapon in and out of the courtroom, I’m like a defective gun. Because even though I act like I can hold my own and rise to any challenge when it’s time to battle—my bullets are the equivalent of cotton candy. Sweet sugar that dissolves into nothing.

Or as Cain would say, I’m all bark and no bite.

Cain—who’s downstairs with his fiancée.

Cain—who wanted me to finish him off after her mouth was on him.

Cain—who tricked me into coming here by getting my hopes up, just so he could hurt me.

Cain—who only told me he loved me when he realized I reached my breaking point.

Because you can only be tethered to someone for so long before the cord begins to strangle you.

They say there’s a thin line between love and hate. But mine’s so thick I can taste it.

And it tastes like nicotine and sin.

It happens so fast I don’t give him time to react…or myself time to think about the repercussions.

I maneuver myself on his lap and crush my mouth against his.

If the man is surprised by my assault, he doesn’t let on. If anything, he’s complacent—almost like he was expecting it.

As if he knows I need this.

Digging my nails into his shoulder, I lick the seam of his lips, urging him to part them for me. A rough sound escapes him, and a flash of heat settles between my legs when he opens his mouth and the tip of his tongue flicks mine…before he pulls away.

No doubt wondering why the girl he found on his balcony—the one who claimed to live in his home and then threatened to call the cops on him a moment ago—kissed him.

Oh, God. He must think I’m psychotic.

Embarrassed, I wipe my mouth. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.” I start to get off him, but his hand finds the small of my back, keeping me there.

“Yes, you do.”

I shake my head, but he holds my gaze, imploring me to tell him the truth.

I did it to get back at Cain.

“I had too much to drink.”

He drags his thumb down my spine, lowering the zipper of my dress. “Eden.”

“I’m not Eden.”

The fingers skimming my vertebra spasm.  “Then take off your mask.”

“No.”

“Shame you’re so stubborn.” He traces a line from my neck to the swell of my breast with his free hand. “Good girls get rewarded.”  

I’d laugh if he didn’t have that scary look in his eyes that makes it clear he’ll tear someone limb from limb if they cross him.

Hell, maybe I should let him. Cain already destroyed my heart…he can finish the job.

“Good girls, huh?” I smile coyly. “You clearly don’t know a thing about me.”  

Because good girls don’t get labeled the town whore.

Good girls don’t fall in love with their stepfathers and then seduce them once their mothers are out of the picture.

And good girls most definitely don’t start writhing on a stranger’s lap to avoid answering his questions.

“You’re right, I don’t.” He stares at me for a long moment, his lips curling into a sly grin. “Well, I do know some things.”

I don’t want to give in to him, but curiosity is wi

Face impassive, he slips a digit inside the top of my dress. “I know today is your eighteenth birthday.”

“I told you—”

“I know your mother Karen Williams died in a car accident last year.”

“Congrats, you can Google.”  

His fingers drum over my skin. “I know you think her death was a blessing.”  

My retort stalls in my throat. I can’t deny or defend that statement because it’s the truth.

My mother didn’t treat me like normal mothers treat their children. I was a burden, and she made sure I knew it every single day.

She hated me because I was nothing like her. I didn’t look like her. I didn’t act like her. And I certainly wasn’t smart like she was. We were night and day. Complete opposites.

Given she never talked about him, she must have hated whoever my father was with the fire of a thousand suns.

It’s what made her hate me with the fire of a thousand and one. Because no matter how much I tried to earn her love…it never came.

Especially after the scandal with my teacher, Mr. Delany.

She loathed me for embarrassing her and almost ruining her reputation and career. Whatever glimmer of hope I had of ever wi

In turn, I ended up falling in love with her husband.  

Cain’s the only one who ever cared about me. The only one who didn’t treat me like a walking fuck-up.

He gets me in ways no one else ever will.

The mystery man’s stubble scrapes my collarbone as he nips the edge of my jaw. “I know she kept you away from people. Locked you up in that house like some kind of animal.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I whisper, looking up at the stars to keep my emotions at bay. “Please stop.”

But he doesn’t. “I know you’re obsessed with a man who will never love you back.” He plants a soft kiss on my throat. “So tragic.”

“Go to hell.”

He catches my wrist a second before my hand co

“Maybe you should stay there permanently next time.”

His hands find my ass and I gasp when I feel how hard he is. “Maybe you should learn to tell the truth.” His lips quirk. “But we both know you won’t…because fighting with me turns you on.”

“No, it doesn’t,” I lie.

My thighs clench as his tongue slithers along my clavicle. He’s right. Provoking him stirs something in me. Something dark and provocative.

“You’re like a goddamn bomb waiting to explode. Looking for the right reason to detonate.” I open my mouth to argue, but sparks of pleasure race over my skin when he raises his hips, creating delicious friction against my pearls. I whimper, needing more, but he laughs darkly. “You’re ruining my pants, little liar.”

The damp spot beneath me makes me blush, but my pride forces me to give him a big smile. “Consider it payback for ruining my night.” I scramble to my feet. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, asshole.”

“Shame we’re not on the couch in your living room.” His lips twist into an evil smirk. “Perhaps you would have given me the same show you gave him.”

My blood runs cold. Up until now, every word out of his mouth was a rumor.