Perfect Lie(34)

“Thank you.”

I nodded and took a bite as he did the same. The sounds that came from his throat were pure sin as he devoured his half. He began to steal bites from my side, and I threatened to stab him with my fork, but I let him anyway because I wasn’t nearly as hungry as he was, and it was nice to have someone appreciate my food.

He didn’t stop until the plate was clean. Then he relaxed back in the seat with his hand over his stomach. “That was amazing.”

I grabbed our plate and forks to wash them, and Abel went into the living room. I heard the low hum of the television, and I guessed he had given up on sleeping at all. I turned off the light over the stove and made my way toward my bedroom.

“Lie,” Abel whispered, and I turned to see him sitting on the couch, remote in hand and the soft light from the TV illuminating his face. He patted the cushion next to him, and I reluctantly went to join him. I knew it would be hell trying to get back to sleep, and I didn’t want any more memories of my childhood flooding my dreams.

I plopped down with a cushion between us as he flipped through the channels. He would pause and glance at me for my reaction. If I didn’t give one, he’d continue on.

“Oh! That’s Wild Things. I haven’t seen that in forever. Keep it on this.” I pulled my legs up under me to get more comfortable.

We watched in silence, and it wasn’t until about twenty minutes later that I realized how stupid my choice was. I kept my eyes focused on the screen as the infamous threesome scene played out. I felt Abel glance my way, and he readjusted the way he was sitting. It was embarrassingly awkward, but I relished in the fact that it was making him as uncomfortable as I was.

“So…” he whispered quietly. “You’re kind of a perv.”

I glared at him, and he laughed, but his smile faded, and what was on the television was momentarily forgotten. The sounds of moans and kisses filled the background, and my heart thudded loudly in my ears. I watched the lights bounce off Abel’s face, the hard angle of his jaw more prominent and his blue‐green eyes glowing from the dim lighting. My mouth became dry, and I ran my tongue over my lips as he swallowed, his breathing noticeably heavier.

“Kill me noooow,” Trish wined, and our heads snapped in the direction of the hallway.

“I’ll get you some aspirin.” I jumped up from the couch, and I heard the channel switch to a talk show.





Chapter Nine


Wild Things



I cooked Trish an egg‐white omelet as she snuggled on the couch with Abel. It wasn’t an entirely selfless act because it afforded me a few moments of solitude while Abel was forced to listen to her incessant whining. She batted her eyes and stuck out her overly glossed lip, and he was putty in her hands, even after she’d stolen his pills. Men are idiots, and Abel was their king.

I cooked and hummed a song that had been stuck in my head for days, and after two verses, I realized it was the P!nk song Abel had sung in his car. Occasionally my personal concert was interrupted by laughter, and I angrily flipped Trish’s omelet, causing it to split apart in the pan. Beggars can’t be choosers.

I took Trish her food, and she didn’t even thank me as I handed her the plate and took a seat on the mismatched blue recliner across the room. I turned my attention to the television, which was now back on Wild Things. I glanced at Abel, and he was looking at me, and even though the scene on now was innocent, I felt the tightening in my belly that I’d had as we sat next to each other a few minutes ago. My eyes dared a glance at Trish, who now occupied my spot and was oblivious to my turmoil.

“What kind of cheese is this?” she asked.

“The kind you eat.” I rolled my eyes as she continued to stare at me, and if she hadn’t blinked, I’d swear she was one of those rubber sex dolls. “It’s breast cheese.”

“What?”

I kept a straight face as I turned toward her. “Oh, yeah. You’ve heard of headcheese, right?” I made a face like she was stupid if she hadn’t heard of it, and she reluctantly nodded. “Well, this is breast cheese. It is all the rage in London. It’s made from the breast milk of millionaire women.”

“Seriously?” She dropped her fork as disgust washed over her expression.

Abel laughed but cleared his throat as Trish looked at him angrily. He nodded and pointed back to me. “I think I’ve heard about that. It’s like…a delicacy, right?”

“Yes. That’s it. It’s a delicacy.” I smiled brightly at Trish, who slowly picked up her fork.

“Yeah…yeah. I’m sure I’ve heard of it. Duh. I’m just…tired.” She hesitantly took another bite, and I struggled to hold back a giggle.