Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

“How about I dream of you tonight, instead?” I ask her. “I’ll be thinking
about that dance for the rest of my life.”
She nods once, sounding pleased with herself. “Good.”
I don’t think my brothers ever got lap dances they didn’t pay for. I’m
loving my sex life lately.
Gently, I slide out from underneath her. “I’ll be back, okay?” I leave a
kiss on her cheekbone. “Get some sleep.”
“’Kay.”
She tucks a pillow under her head, remaining on her stomach on top of
the covers. I pull on some black cotton shorts, my loose white tank top a little
see-through with my purple bra, but they’ll live with it. I need water.
We need water.
I walk for my door.
“Liv?” she calls.
I stop and turn my head, my hand on the knob.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
I shake my head, amused. “Is this becoming a habit for you? What are
you sorry for now?”
“You said you were fifteen,” she says. “We knew each other by then. I
wanted you by then.”
When I lost my virginity in the back of a car.
“You should’ve been at that carnival with me,” she tells me.
A knot tightens in my throat. I would’ve loved that. For her to realize
sooner that this was going to be good. We might’ve been happier years ago.
But Clay has hurt me as much, if not more, than anyone else, so who’s to
say anything would’ve been different. She might’ve broken my heart back
then, too. It was always a risk.
“Go to sleep,” I tell her. “I’ll be back.”
I leave, closing the door quietly and heading down the stairs, my bare feet
picking up the dirt my brothers tracked in. I growl under my breath, knowing
who’s going to have to clean it up.
“Did you see him limping away?” I hear Trace shout. “I was like bam! I
almost broke his damn neck.”
I pass them in the living room, grab a cup and pour some water from the
Brita pitcher into the glass.
“I’m glad you didn’t,” Dallas replied. “We’re not done with them.”
“You got that right,” Iron adds. “And I hope they fucking come over here.