Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

“God, you have a beautiful body,” she whimpers my words. “I want you
to lose it in my bed.”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“I can do anything you want me to,” she whispers, breathing heavy and
dragging her hand up and down her body. “That’s it, Collins. Fuck me.”
Trace snorts in the front seat, while Iron has turned and is watching her.
I see Dallas shake his head.
I swallow. “Yeah, you liked that, didn’t you?” I reply curtly. “You like
me inside you. And you want more of it. Not of him. You know why?”
She arches a brow.
“Because you’re gay,” I tell her. “You’re queer, Clay. Just like me.”
The corners of her mouth tighten. “I am not.”
So, it’s just me, then? Just something about me? Bullshit. She was
checking Krisjen out on the dance floor tonight. Well, not really checking her
out, but she was definitely noticing her.
“And if I said I was in love with you?” I ask her. “What would you feel?”
She stares at me, her wet, blonde hair sticking to her amazing body, and
those big, blue eyes losing their defiance for a fraction of a second. Her chest
caves a little, breathing hard.
“I’m in love with you, Clay,” I tell her.
The car falls silent, like my brothers are afraid to breathe because they
might miss something. Her lips open a little, and God, the softness that hits
her eyes makes her look like she’d blow over in a light breeze. I swear I see a
smile desperate to get out, and I want to say it again.
“Just kidding.” I force a scoff. “Just wanted you to see how fucking gay
you are.”
She jerks her gaze away, focusing out the window, and I stare at the
reflection of her in mine. I can almost see her little snarl as she stares at my
reflection too.
I’m not in love with her. I’m leaving.
Rain swipes across the windows, the wind blowing the drops into lines
streaking over the glass, and the next thing I know, Dallas is jerking the
wheel to the left and stabbing the brakes.
The car stops, and Dallas shifts it into Park. “Get those motherfuckers,”
Iron growls, grabbing a tire iron off the dash.
“Stop!” I yell, seeing we’re on Main Street. We’ve caught up to them
before they were able to get to Fox Hill. This is too public.