Chapter 43: The Night Before

At eleven on the eighth of December the house was as full as it had ever been.

None of us were asleep.

Tara lay on the daybed in the front room with the quilt up to her chin.

Cal had the east room, where Byron had put a lamp and a football on the dresser.

Poppy slept in her crib in the next room, and I had listened to her through the wall for an hour.

My navy dress hung on the closet door for the morning.

The folder with the green ledger sat on the dresser, with Byron's phone on top of it.

I lay on my back in the dark and counted what the judge could take.

"You're thinking," said Byron.

"I'm not."

"I can hear it."

He lay on his side with his eyes open.

The light from the hall made a thin line down his face.

I rolled over and put my hand flat on his chest.

His heart was going hard.

"Ask me," I said.

"Ask you what?"

"What I'm thinking."

"What are you thinking, Lacey?"

I swung my leg over his hips and sat up on him.

He was already hard against me through his shorts.

"I'm thinking I don't want to spend tonight counting," I said. "Be quiet."

His hands came up to my thighs.

"Everyone's in the house."

"I know."

"You'll make noise."

"Then put your hand over my mouth."

He made a sound in his throat, low and rough, and his grip tightened until it would leave marks.

I pulled my nightshirt over my head and dropped it on the floor.

He looked at me in the dim light, at my breasts and the soft belly Poppy had left me.

He said my name, low and unsteady.

I bent and kissed him.

It wasn't gentle.

I bit his lower lip, and he groaned into my mouth.

I slid down his body, dragging my tongue over his chest and his stomach.

I pulled his shorts down and took his cock in my fist.

"Lacey," he said, through his teeth.

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