The Lies Between Us (The Devil's Dust #4)(38)

“Yeah, I’m sure your weed is that f*cking fantastic that you can’t find a buyer, so you’re going to try and hustle me here at Ma’s dinner table.” Sarcasm drips from my voice. I shake my head and smirk at his flustered face.

“Boys, no business talk at the dinner table. I’ve told you that,” Mother scolds, striding into the dining room. She has blue mittens on each hand, carrying the crock-pot to the table.

“Hey, Ma, just trying to help Lip out.” Zeek leans back in his chair, his face back to its normal cocky appearance. He shrugs and smirks. “But Lip never was any good at knowing what was good for him.” I narrow my brows. I’m getting really tired of this back and forth bullshit.

“Zeek!” my mother hisses.

Zeek trails his eyes from me to her.

“Sorry, Ma,” he mutters. He’s not sorry, but he’s about to be. I grab the knife next to my plate; it’s intended for cutting meat, but I’m about to cut into my brother’s neck if he doesn’t shut the f*ck up.

Ma sits down and stirs the pot roast.

“So, Lip, when are you going to bring this girl of yours over here for dinner?” My stomach falls. I knew she was going to ask—she does every time I f*cking talk to her. I really just need to clear the way between Cherry and me but now I feel like it’s gone on too long. When it is revealed, when I reveal my omission to Cherry, it’ll go badly. I’m not sure Cherry will stick around, and I don’t want to go filling Ma’s head with fairytale shit of me running off into the sunset with some chick, so I keep Cherry away.

“Cherry? Not anytime soon, Ma,” I reply, dipping the ladle into the pot. Ma would love Cherry, and that doesn’t make things easier on me. It’s for the best. Things are already more blurred than I can comprehend as it is, so I don’t need to make it worse by mixing both families together.

“See, doesn’t know what’s good for him. I haven’t seen this bitch, but from what I hear, she’s hot enough to f*ck twice on Sundays,” Zeek insults.

I grab the knife and stand from the table. Rage and anger filling my veins, all I see is red. All I want is to make his f*cking skin bleed. Nobody talks about Cherry like that. Zeek doesn’t move from his seat, just continues to butter his bread as I stand over him with a serrated knife.

“Lip, sit your f*cking ass down now!” My mother stabs the table with a cutting knife, grabbing mine and Zeek’s attention. My mother is a badass bitch, regardless of her attempt to play housekeeper. I have seen her stab a woman for disrespecting her before, shoot at a man trying to get into our house, and she knows the perfect combo to get blood out of the carpet. I woke up in the middle of the night as a child finding her scrubbing the living room carpet enough times to know. She is one female you don’t want to f*ck with. I close my eyes and breathe deeply.

“Zeek, you best shut your f*cking mouth. Lip, sit your ass down and ease up.” My mother tugs the knife out of the dining table and points it at the food. “Eat, damn it!”


CHERRY

I hear the loud pipes thunder as Lip pulls into the drive, so I turn the shower off and step out to dry off. I pull on my red bra and matching panties before putting on my white shirt and blue jeans.

When I open the door, he’s pulling his shirt over his head. His chiseled chest takes my breath away. I’d do anything to run my claws down that in a fit of ecstasy.

“You’re back,” I state. Lip turns his head slightly before slipping onto the comforter. He said he wouldn’t be back yesterday, and he kept his word. “Where were you?” I interrogate.

“Out,” he replies. I cross my arms and lean against the doorframe.

“Seriously?” I cock my head to the side, anger building in my chest. It hurts that he doesn’t talk to me anymore. I’m furious that I’ve become that girlfriend who has to question her man every time she sees him because she knows he’s hiding something from her. I’m not sure I can do this shit anymore.

He pulls his head off the pillow and pins me with a glare.

“I said I was f*cking out. Now let it be,” he snaps. I jump with his outburst. Who does he think he’s talking to? I lean down and grab one of my heels and throw it at his head, hitting it spot-on.

“What the f*ck?!” He shoots up off the bed, his body puffed out with rage. I don’t back down; he doesn’t scare me. If anything, it turns me on. My mind drifts with sexual need, but the glare in his eyes reminds me to stand my ground.

“Where the f*ck were you?” I question again. He steps up to me and fists my hair roughly. My heart skips a beat; this is not Lip. This is a man I’ve never seen before. The muscles in his arm flex and dance as he pulls my head back, our eyes locking. My thirst for sex wins, and I mewl in response. I can’t help my arousal from the dominant anger radiating off him. This side of Lip has never shown before, it’s unfamiliar and a turn on I didn’t expect. His eyes widen when he notices my excitement from his roughness.

“I was at my mom’s most of yesterday, and then I stayed at the club last night ‘cause I didn’t get back till really late. Now chill the f*ck out,” he mutters. He leans down and smashes his lips to mine, his cold lip ring against my warm lips causing a shiver to race up my limbs. I sway into him, wanting him to grab me and throw me over the bed. It’s been weeks since he’s had sex with me, but it was so distant, I might as well have been f*cking my vibrator. I’m so worked up with sexual tension I can barely think straight. He pulls back and my body sags with sorrow.