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Credence(125)

Author:Penelope Douglas

“I never really realized my father was the life of the party at dinner,” Noah adds, trying to get us to talk.

But I’m enjoying Kaleb’s attention a little too much to make conversation right now.

Noah reaches over and touches my ribbon. “This is cute.”

I give him a smile but then flash my gaze to Kaleb, seeing his jaw flex.

“So you want to watch a movie tonight?” Noah asks.

“A movie?”

“There’s a sequel where the same cops pick her up for smoking weed and take her back to the station house,” he tells me, wagging his eyebrows. “All night long. Lots of prisoners.”

I chuckle. “Sounds hot.” I close my text and drop the rest of my biscuit to my plate, brushing off my hands. “But I have about fifteen critical responses to finish.”

I rise, picking up my plate and glass.

“I’ll make sure to avoid the living room, though,” I say, setting my dishes on the counter and turning around to grab my book and highlighter.

But as I move around the table to go to my room, Noah slides his chair in front of me, blocking my way.

I stop, straightening.

His eyes glide down my body, like the oversized sweater and sleep shorts are just what he likes, but really, he’s just been without a woman for longer than he wants, and anything looks good at this point.

His gaze trails back up, meeting mine again. “Come here,” he says.

“Get out of my way.”

His lips turn tight, his usual Noah-humor gone. “I said come here.”

I glance at Kaleb who looks between his brother and me, tense but not ready to defend me yet.

“He’s not gonna help you,” Noah tells me as if reading my thoughts.

And then he reaches out, grabs my sweater, and pulls me into him, my book falling onto the floor as he pulls my knees around him. I straddle his lap, growling as he wraps an arm around my waist and locks one fist at the back of my scalp.

I plant my hands on his chest, trying to push myself away, but he holds my hair tight.

“Noah, stop it. You’re drunk.”

The four empty beer bottles on the table clank as I struggle, kicking the leg of the table.

“No, I’m bored.” He inches up toward my mouth. “I want to make love to you, Tiernan. I wanna fuck my father’s little whore.”

I rear my hand back and slap him as hard as I can across the cheek. His face whips to the side, and he sucks in a breath. But he laughs, almost moaning with pleasure.

“You want it, too,” he continues, looking up at me as he presses his groin into mine. “Ride me like this. Right here on this chair. Tell him I made you do it.” His hot breath on my mouth makes my skin tingle. “Tell him I made you do what you’re supposed to do for all the men in the house. Right here on the kitchen table every morning after you serve us our fucking breakfast.”

I fist his T-shirt, the ridge of his cock in his jeans rubbing me through my thin shorts, and I breathe hard, still trying to push against his hold.

He releases my hair and plants his forehead to mine, whispering to me. “I want you.” His breathing turns shallow, like he’s in pain. “I want you.”

The longing in his voice seeps through, and even though my thighs are warm and there’s a longing for something more that I can’t explain—or don’t want to—I push him away.

“Until the roads clear,” I grit out.

As soon as they both have access to the women in town, I won’t be so needed.

I slap his chest and push him away, stumbling back to my feet. I back away from him, swiping my textbook off the floor.

Noah rises, advancing on me, and Kaleb stands, too.

“You needed affection from him,” Noah says, referring to his father. “He abused his authority with you. With me, you can play. With me, you can call the shots.”

I narrow my eyes on him, confused. Is that what he thinks is happening between his father and me? A little lost orphan who needs love?

He really thinks Jake took advantage.

“When I was sixteen, this nineteen-year-old guy took me home from a party and wanted to do the same things to me that your father does to me,” I say to Noah. “I didn’t let him, because I didn’t feel anything around him.”

They both remain silent as I continue.

“When Senator De Haven’s son cornered me at the Governor’s Ball with a couple of his frat buddies…” I go on, “promising to treat me right, I didn’t want that, either, and he got a bloody lip to show for it. When Terrance Holcomb walked into that lake with his beautiful body and just as many cocky words coming out of his mouth as you, I didn’t escape into him for a few moments of instant gratification.”