West groans and rolls onto his side, waking me up. I stayed up watching him like a hawk until the sun came up before I finally fell asleep. Rolling onto his back, he throws his arm over his eyes.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like shit,” he snaps.
I lean up on my elbow and study his face. “Well, you downed almost a whole bottle of Scotch.”
“That’s not why I feel like shit, Z.”
“No?”
His Adam’s apple bobs. “Not the only reason, anyway.”
I trace my fingertips over his chest. “You’re not the reason she left.”
He shakes his head. “So, why do I feel like I am? I should have listened to Xander. I should’ve—”
“We both should have.”
He turns his head and looks at me. “You think I don’t know that you just go along with whatever I want to keep me happy, Z? You always have.”
I shrug. “I thought she betrayed us too. It’s not all on you.”
He runs a hand through my hair and tugs my head back. “Thank you for looking after my drunken ass.”
I wave off his thanks.
“What the fuck did I do to deserve you?” It’s not one of those rhetorical questions people who love each other ask. He’s genuinely looking for an answer. And I suddenly understand why he’s always telling me that I’m too hard on myself. Always trying to keep me out of a self-loathing spiral. He never lets me forget how loved I am, by both him and Xander.
I trail kisses across his chest, and he groans, his fingers still threaded through my hair. When I move lower, teeth and tongue swirling over his hard abs, he hisses out a breath.
I rub my palm over his cock, and it grows harder at my touch.
“Zeke,” he warns, but I don’t stop. Moving lower, I shove his boxers down and grip his shaft. I lick a path from the center of his stomach all the way to the base of his dick.
His fingers dig into my scalp. I tug on his thick cock and precum beads on the slit. Darting out my tongue, I lick it off, letting the taste of him fill my mouth.
“Zeke, don’t.”
“Why? Because you think you don’t deserve this?”
“No,” he grits out. “Because you don’t do this.”
He’s right. But why don’t I? He and Fitch are two of the three people I’ve ever truly loved. Why should the prick who fucked me up be the only man I’ve done this with? “I would do anything for you.”
I wrap my lips around the end of his cock. It’s been over twenty years since I gave a blowjob, but I’ve had enough of them to know what to do.
“Motherfucker!”
Suppressing a smile, I take him to the back of my throat.
“Oh, that feels so fucking good.” He loosens his grip on my hair. I know how desperate he must be to hold my head still and fuck my mouth the way he does with Xander and Lily.
I shift my weight until I’m lying between his thighs and swirl my tongue across the crown of his cock, moving down his shaft and back again. His free hand fists in the sheets. Reaching up, I push a finger into his mouth, and he sucks, coating it with his saliva. I love that he knows me so well. When I slip that finger into his ass a few seconds later and press it against his G-spot, he grunts my name and comes down my throat. I swallow every fucking drop he gives me.
Chapter
Fifty-Three
WEST
“Hello, West.” Her soft sultry voice fills my ear.
I rub a hand over my face. “Alison, I need a favor.”
“A favor? From me?” She laughs. “You must be desperate.”
“Well, yeah, I am.” Beyond fucking desperate to fix at least some of the damage I caused.
She laughs again, and I can picture her sitting at her desk, tossing her long blond hair over her shoulder, getting such a kick out of this. “What can I do for you?”
“I need you to give someone a job.”
“A job?” She snorts. “You have like three billion employees. You give them a job.”
“I would if I could, but she won’t take one from me.”
“Oh, West,” she purrs. “Have you been a naughty boy?”
Sighing, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Look, she’s a great writer. She’d be an asset to your magazine.”
“So give her a job at yours. If she says no, offer her more money. Everyone has a price.”
Regret grips my throat. “Not this girl, Ali.”
“Oh, West.” Her tone is serious now. “Has someone broken your ice-cold heart?”
“A job, Ali.”
She hums but doesn’t say anything.
“Did you see that puppy farm piece in Genevieve last month?”
“Yeah, I read it.”
“That was her.”
She’s silent for several seconds, and I’m opening my mouth to beg when she asks, “That’s who you want me to offer a job to?”
“Yes, Lily Sloane. But she can’t know I had anything to do with it.”
She lets out a loud breath.
“Ali, come on. You read the article; you know she’s a good writer. She’s a great person too. Sweet and loyal and …” The words stick in my throat, and I cough to clear it. “Do this for me and I’ll owe you.” I hold my breath and wait for her to give me an answer.
“Fine,” she eventually says, and my heavy exhale makes her laugh.
“Thank you.”
I end the call and rest my forehead on the cool desk. My head throbs, partly due to the aftereffects of drinking almost an entire bottle of Scotch last night, but mostly with the knowledge that we’ve lost her. We had the perfect woman, and she loved each of us equally. With everything she had.
Now everything is broken.
And I can’t fix it.
Chapter
Fifty-Four
LILY
I open the door and scowl at the messenger who delivered the puppy to me a few weeks ago. What the hell are those assholes up to now? I really thought that they were going to leave me alone after my visit to West two days ago. Especially after his ten-minute rambling drunk-dialed voicemail.
“Lily Sloane?”
I roll my eyes at his snarky tone. “You know I am.”
“You can never tell in this game,” he says, and I’m pretty sure one corner of his mouth lifts slightly.
“Whatever.” Leaning against the doorframe, I cross my arms over my chest. “What delights do you have for me today?”
“This piece of crap.” He steps out of sight.
Trepidation causes my stomach to sink, but my heart leaps when I pop my head out and see what he’s brought me. “Betty!”
His forehead wrinkles, but there’s definitely a smirk on his face now. “You got pissed off when I brought you an adorable puppy, but you’re overjoyed by this pile of junk?”
“She is not junk.” I yank her handlebars from his grasp and wheel her inside, dimly registering the lack of metallic protest.
He arches one eyebrow. “She?”
I tip my chin up. “I said what I said.”
He puts his hand on the doorframe and leans in. “You wanna get a drink some time?”
I blink at the sudden change of subject. Is this some kind of test? “A drink? With you?”