Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

straighten my hair and put on a little makeup.
I stare at myself in the mirror as I spread the lip gloss.
He’ll feel good. He’ll feel good when he stands behind me, his naked
torso against my back. His eyes will peer over my head as his strong,
muscular arms slip around my waist, and he’ll take in the view of my body in
the mirror, my shirt off for him. I can’t wait for him to touch me. He’s dying
for it.
I dab some toothpaste onto a toothbrush and brush my teeth, imagining
his hands gliding over my thighs and between my legs, and then I swish some
mouthwash, locking on my gaze in the mirror.
You want him. You’ll look so good together, and at night, under the
sheets, he’ll feel good, Clay. You’ll love it. His golden skin and narrow waist.
His broad shoulders and big eyes that make him look so innocent until he
smiles and you can see the danger. Everyone wants him.
But as I rinse out my mouth and look up at him and try to see him on top
of me, I see a taunting little dare looking up at me instead. Her amused eyes
locked on mine as she lies on the weight bench.
A body smaller and softer than Callum’s and lips I can feel between my
teeth, because sometimes I want to bite her until she bleeds.
God, she pisses me off.
I open my mouth, letting the mouthwash fall out as I lean on the counter.
My belly suddenly pooling with heat down low, and my mouth waters, nearly
tasting her.
Liv. I breathe out, staring into the sink. Attention-seeking, rebel-withouta-clue,
bitchy annoyance. I grip the edge of the counter.
I should just leave her alone. She’s none of my business.
But confident people don’t need to be loud, and it’s not my responsibility
to make her disdain for everyone around her easy. I won’t stop pushing back
until she runs from this place.
Shutting off the light, I grab my phone off the bed and fix the stuffed
octopus propped up against my headboard. I have dozens tucked away in my
closet and under my bed, but I only keep one out in the open.
I saw one in an aquarium in Orlando when I was about six—so beautiful
and graceful—but I don’t think I was obsessed until my father joked that they
were actually aliens. My mother laughed about it, but as I grew up, I
discovered there is a significant portion of the human population who really
believe it. After that, I was hooked. The ability to do what no other creature