“That’s not what you said last night,” he banters.
Connor’s lips rise. “Shh, that’s between us, love.”
I shoot him a look. “You’re asking to sleep on the floor tonight.” Their friendship, while amusing, is coming at my expense.
Connor eases close to me, and he tilts his head down to whisper in my ear, his eyes full of power. “If you think that’s best, I’ll convince you to let me back in your bed later.”
His voice is deep and sexual, and something that shallows my breath for an instant. I’m about to reply, but Lo tickles Lily’s hips and she squeals. They distract me often, breaking whatever brief moment was occurring with Connor.
Lo and Lily both live here. Loren is a recovering alcoholic. Lily is working on her sex addiction. They’re at a good stasis, but they can’t live alone since isolation is what amplified their addictions in the first place. So they’re here. With us.
And it’s about as awkward as it seems.
With the cameras around I thought they might be more discreet, but the opposite has happened. Loren has taken PDA to a whole new level.
Some tabloids believe Loren and Lily are only engaged to repair my sister’s tarnished image as a sex addict, so Loren sticks his tongue down her throat （on camera）， to give the world the middle finger for doubting their love. He really doesn’t care what the public thinks at this point.
But I do.
It’s why I have the cameras around in the first place.
Before Lily escapes Loren’s hold completely, he draws her back to his chest and playfully bites her shoulder. She fidgets with a goofy smile and slaps him on the bicep. His bites turn into kisses.
And both cameras spin off me and zoom in on them.
I don’t mind at all. Lily is wearing a signature Calloway Couture piece that viewers at home may like—a plum lacy skirt with a champagne blouse （no longer tucked into the skirt thanks to Lo’s groping）。 She’s usually in leggings and Loren’s baggy shirts without a bra, so she looks slightly uncomfortable in the outfit, but I know she’s trying hard to make things right. And that’s all I can ask. To have her support is enough.
I tap on the faucet with my wrist, and Loren tears his gaze from Lily to see the red sauce that washes off my palms.
“Whose heart did you rip out this time?”
Scott Van Wright. I wish. “Connor’s,” I say, “but he stopped me before I got that far.”
Connor grins. “She has quick hands, but I’m faster.”
My eyes narrow. Oh he wishes.
“When is the psychic coming?” Lily perks up, combing her fingers anxiously through her hair and shifts as if her body doesn’t fit her quite right. From behind her, Loren tangles his arms around her waist and rests his chin on her shoulder. She immediately relaxes into him.
His presence is a kind of reassurance that brightens her whole being. If she didn’t have Loren, I’d imagine she’d be on street corners, sleeping with random guys to satisfy her sexual compulsions. I’m more grateful that he’s here, helping her, than I’ll ever let on.
“She should be arriving soon.” I use extra hand soap and scrub beneath my nails.
Connor leans against the counter beside me. “A psychic at a dinner party,” he says, “next thing you know, we’re going to be pouring salt around the doors and creating spirit circles.”
“It’s two hours,” I remind him, “and you don’t have to believe in it to enjoy a reading.”
He watches me so intently that my heart starts to pound. My eyes skim his lips and rise back to his intense gaze. “No,” he says after a long moment, “I just have to listen to some crock stir up shit between us.”
I squirt more soap in my palm. “That won’t be happening.”
“I can tell the future better than whoever walks through that door—and I bet you a thousand dollars that she’s going to make someone cry tonight.”
“Fine,” I say. “If you want to lose a thousand dollars, then I’ll take your bet.” Who would cry? Not any of the guys. Not me. That leaves Lily and Daisy, and I do not see my youngest sister shedding a tear. And Lily—she’s a wild card. But I would bet on her strength.
“No way,” Loren cuts in. He has Lily swaddled in his arms. “That’s not a good bet. You need real stakes.”
“That’s a lot of money,” Connor tells him with an arched brow.
“For who?” Loren asks. “You’re the heir of a multi-billion dollar company, as is Rose. All of our parents shit gold bricks.”