“Good. C’mere and give me your mouth,” King ordered with a crooked grin.
I skipped over to him, which made him laugh, planted my hands on his strong thighs and jumped up slightly to lay a big one on him.
“Not so fast,” he said, grabbing me by the hips so that he could hold me suspended in the air over the ground.
I sighed at the manly act before he took advantage of my parted lips and kissed me thoroughly.
Another knock sounded on the door but I didn’t think of it because I was busy kissing a god. It was minutes later that I registered someone calling, “Cressida, I know you’re in there and I’m not leaving until you let me in.”
King’s hand immediately spasmed on my hips and I wrenched myself back in his hold so I could stare at him in horror.
William was at the door.
“I’m dreaming,” I told myself. “This is not real.”
“It’s real, babe,” King growled.
“Ohmigawd, ohmigawd, ohmigawd,” I chanted, unable to move and tied to the tracks as the train barreled towards me.
“Cressida, babe,” King’s voice cut through my panic. “Listen to me. Answer the door and get rid of him. If he doesn’t go, I’ll sort it out, yeah?”
“You can’t,” I said, my voice in an octave I’d never heard before. “He can’t see you here. He thinks I’m dating your freaking father and you’re my freaking student!”
“Deep fuckin’ breath right now, babe. If you freak out, I’ll rage out and we can’t have me killin’ your ex-husband, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I agreed because I definitely didn’t want him to go to prison even if I kinda sorted wanted to see him beat William up.
“We’re going to get through this together. It’s super fuckin’ bad timin’ because I had plans to eat my apple pie then eat you but we’ll put those on hold. I’m not trippin’ about being here. I’m glad because I’m gonna help you get rid of ‘im for fuckin’ good. Now, go answer the door,” he pressed a firm kiss to my mouth like a punctuation mark and hopped off the counter.
I waited for him to disappear somewhere in the house, taking the time to breath deep and get my shit together.
“Cressida,” William called again from behind the door.
“You can do this,” I told myself. “You are a strong, independent women and you can do this.”
I started towards the door then paused and rubbed my hands over my face. “You’re also a shameless harlot who just spent the night boning the gorgeous much-younger man who, along with his father, is ‘fixin’’ to do something about the husband currently demanding entry to your house while said younger man is hiding somewhere inside it.”
Another knock at the door and a hissed, “Answer the fuckin’ thing, babe,” from somewhere else in the house.
“Ohmigawd, I’m so going to hell,” I mumbled.
Then I opened the door.
And to my continued horror, it wasn’t just William who stood before me, but also my mother.
“Well, it’s about time. It’s inconceivable that you would leave guests out on the stoop to freeze to death while you dawdled around inside. My goodness, it’s nearly eleven o’clock, what are you doing still in your robe?” Phoebe Garrison said as she pushed past me and into my home.
I stood dumbly in the door, my eyes locked on William and my father as they retrieved something from the car and made their way towards me.
Oh my fucking GOD!
“Cressida, please don’t tell me you’re making pie for breakfast?” my mother called from inside.
My eyes darted between the approaching men and the mother currently rummaging in my house and I made the quick decision to focus on the worse threat. I dashed inside to find her opening and closing all my cupboards.
“You told me this place was charming,” she accused me but didn’t stop her snooping. “It’s an absolute sty.”
“It’s a work in progress,” I defended. “As you may remember, I didn’t have any money when I left William.”
“Yes, I remember. So how exactly did you afford even this pile of kindling?” Phoebe asked me, finally turning to pin her eyes on me.
They were my eyes staring at me, which I’d always found comforting but now I found it incredibly perturbing because they looked at me with the same judgmental condemnation that I knew I’d used my entire life on people like King and his brothers. It gave me a stomach ache to think about it.
I also couldn’t tell my mother that I had taken money from Lysander because, to my parent’s knowledge, I had excommunicated him from the family church years ago.
So, instead, I went on the offensive.
“What are you doing here, mother? I seem to remember you saying something about never visiting me here because you didn’t want me to get use to the idea.”
Her lips pursed but William and my dad entered the kitchen before she could lecture me about my rudeness.