Sinful Like Us Read online Krista Ritchie, Becca Ritchie (Like Us #5)

Categories Genre: Chick Lit, Contemporary, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: , Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
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Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 148434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
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I lower the clipboard to my belly. “You should take a seat.”

He goes rigid. “What happened?”

Farrow leaves the door and joins Maximoff. He clasps his hand.

Moffy lets out a breath, but his shoulders never loosen. His attention is on me, waiting.

“It’s not so terrible,” I tell him. “Really, it’s not.”

He blinks. “Is it about your brothers?”

“No.”

“My brother?” He points to his chest.

I pause. “Not quite.”

He stiffens. “My sisters?”

“Sister,” I correct.

“Luna?”

I nod.

Farrow runs his thumb over his lip piercing. “You said this happened again, so that means you walked in on Luna having sex?”

Maximoff cringes. “Christ.”

“Yes.” I hug my clipboard. “It was as unlucky and unfortunate as walking in on you two.”

“But you didn’t tell me when it happened,” Maximoff realizes. “Why?”

“Luna asked me not to, and I promised her.”

Farrow processes fast and tells Moffy, “Your sister thought you’d be pissed.”

“Oui.”

Maximoff fixates on the wall in deep contemplation. “I already know she’s having sex, and I’d never shame her for that. I just want her to be safe, so I really don’t get why she thinks I’d overreact.” His eyes hit mine with pure brotherly protectiveness. “Did the guy hurt her? Is she okay?” He’s already storming towards the door.

I’m suddenly very thankful we’re locked in this room.

Farrow sprints in front and blocks him, a hand to his chest. “Wolf scout, let’s hear Jane out before we go on a fictional manhunt.”

He glares. “If someone hurt my little sister, it’s not going to be a fucking fictional manhunt. I’m going to kill him with a switchblade laced in arsenic.”

I try not to smile. My best friend has murderous hyperboles that my mom would applaud in a heartbeat.

“You don’t even know why you’d be committing murder,” Farrow says matter-of-factly. “Or who you’re supposed to be killing.”

“She’s fine. Really, really fine,” I emphasize. “She enjoyed the moment greatly. It was completely consensual.”

Maximoff tries to relax, his hand sliding back in Farrow’s hand. “Who was it? What’d they do?” His tone is sharp, so it sounds like he’s asking for a culprit and a motive.

I take one breath.

And I say just it. “I walked in on Paul Donnelly giving Luna great head—the great was her assessment, though from my vantage it did look very pleasing…” I trail off, so sweltering hot that I can barely think straight.

Farrow’s jaw has dropped. Shock slowly washes over his face, and he swings his head to me. “Donnelly?”

“Yes.”

Maximoff lets go of his hand, just to set his palms on his head. Like he’s winded and attempting to catch his breath. He spins to Farrow. “You told me not to worry about him.”

“It was consensual,” I remind them. “Luna asked Donnelly to go down on her.”

They’re both staring at me like I’m speaking an entirely different language.

“It was for science,” I add, unhelpfully. “She enjoyed it.” Yes, stick to this point.

Maximoff’s glower intensifies.

I give him a disapproving look. “Not that it matters. At all apparently.”

He groans, frustrated. “That matters. That’s not why I’m glaring.” He rakes his hands through his thick dark-brown hair, then lowers his arms to his side. “Are you sure it was Donnelly?”

“Positive.”

“You’re sure it was consensual?”

“Yes. No doubt.”

Farrow leans casually on the antique dresser. “Shit, how much did you see?”

“Far too much.”

“When?” Maximoff asks.

I explain the entire ordeal. Every little detail of how I went to find a condom and instead walked in on Luna and Donnelly, and somehow this explanation is the easiest and breeziest compared to everything else tonight.

By the end, Thatcher has returned and begun unscrewing the hinges. I’ve expected Maximoff to be upset, so I’m not surprised when he charges for the door.

Farrow catches his arm. “Where are you going?”

“To have a tea party with a bodyguard, who apparently decided to play Bill Nye the fucking Science Guy with my sister.”

I whisper to the door. “Thatcher?”

“Yeah?”

“Work slowly.”

“Copy that.” He understands that it’s better if Maximoff does not confront Donnelly right now.

“The door is jammed,” Farrow tells him. “You’re not going anywhere, so just relax, relax.” He cups his jaw.

His eyes are reddened. “I’m totally relaxed.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “More relaxed than you.”

“Keep trying because you’re not even close yet.”

“Yeah?” He holds onto Farrow’s waist. “I feel pretty goddamn Zen.”

I smile, but my lips fall as Maximoff hangs his head and pinches his raw eyes.

“Donnelly was doing what Luna asked,” I remind him.

He winces, looking up again. “Are we really going to justify this?” He turns to me. “She was eighteen.”

Farrow tosses his head from side to side. “Technically, she was about to be nineteen in a couple weeks.”

Maximoff glares. “Donnelly could’ve said no. You told me I could trust him with her.”

“And you still can—”

“He went down on her!” Maximoff yells and looks between us. “Am I living in the Twilight Zone? Why are you two okay with this?” Hurt pulses in his eyes, and he puts his hands on top of his head again, distressed.


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