My Beautiful Poison (Wicked Poison Book 1)

by T. L Smith

  “Rich girl.” I smile because I simply can’t help myself. She is perfect. And a very nice sight after Sully.

  “Hey, hope you don’t mind I popped around. I left my jacket here.”

  “Come in,” I tell her, opening the door and stepping inside. I nod to where her jacket is on the back of the couch, and she reaches for it, then turns back to face me.

  “You went shopping?” she asks, surprised.

  “Yep, a man’s got to eat.”

  She nods.

  “You want to stay for dinner, rich girl?” Her dark eyes fall back to me, and I smirk at her.

  “I mean… you do owe me.” She places her jacket down again and heads over to the counter. I open the fridge and hand her a beer. She takes the bottle from my outstretched hand, opens it, and places it to her mouth.

  Damn, the things I could do with that mouth…

  “You sure Anderson won’t get upset you’re here?”

  “No. There’s no more Anderson.”

  Well, fuck, her words surprise me. I raise an eyebrow, and she simply shakes her head.

  “So now you can spend your time with the less fortunate,” I say, playing with her. She opens her mouth to defend herself against my words but shuts it and takes another drink instead.

  “I want you to kiss me,” she blurts out.

  “I don’t kiss girls like you.”

  “You have,” she says defensively, holding her head high, the beer clutched firmly in her hand.

  I smirk and shake my head as I get the pasta out and put some water on to boil.

  “No, I did it to amuse myself. That wasn’t a real kiss. That was nothing more than a child’s kiss,” I answer. When I turn back, she is assessing me with her brows scrunched together, her eyes stuck on me but not really seeing me.

  “You don’t want to kiss me?”

  I drop the pasta in boiling water and move around the counter until I’m standing next to her. She turns ever so slightly and tilts her chin up.

  “It’s not those lips I would kiss.” Her face turns bright red, and she quickly turns her head away, bringing her drink to her lips. I lean in, so I’m close to her ear. “And we both know you don’t want me to do that. Not a dirty man like me,” I say to her with a bite of venom in my voice. I watch her shudder before I resume cooking.

  “Paige been around this week?” she asks, changing the subject.

  “What are you doing here, rich girl. You got no friends?” My voice is harsh, and I don’t check for her reaction. “Am I the only one who puts up with you?”

  “You offered to feed me, August,” she bites back.

  “Okay, yeah, you’re right.” I focus back on cooking. I hear her finishing off her beer and she grabs another one.

  “Who taught you to cook?”

  “The internet,” I tell her truthfully. The things my mother taught me to cook are not what a child should be anywhere near.

  “You aren’t close to your mother?”

  I dish up our food, after adding bacon and garlic to the pasta, then slide hers over to her.

  “Why are you asking so many questions?” I bite back as she puts her fork in the pasta and twirls it around.

  “How come you don’t like sharing?”

  “Eat your food and leave, rich girl. I’m sure you have places to be rather than here, annoying me.” I glance up to see her pushing her plate away. She’s finished half of it.

  “I do, actually. I need to move. You free tomorrow?”

  “Are you requesting my services or telling me to make myself available?” My head drops to the side. “Because you’re shit at asking.”

  She shakes her head with her eyes slightly closed before she stands and walks around to my side of the counter. She steps to me, only leaving a foot of space between us as she smirks. “August, I would love your manly help tomorrow to move all my big items.” She flutters her eyelashes at me.

  I know she’s doing it as a joke, but my cock appreciates all that effort.

  “Sure.”

  She claps her hands together, kisses my cheek, and quickly turns around. Grabbing her things, she throws her bag over her shoulder as she heads for the door. “I’ll pick you up.”

  Chapter 11

  Rylee

  August lifts my mattress, and I can’t help but stare at his bulging muscles. I really should be doing something else besides watching him carry all my things inside.

  I really should.

  But it’s so hard to look away.

  So I don’t.

  Anderson never had a body like this. Sure, he was fit, but not to the point you could see the veins in his hands whenever he moved them.

  I like veins in men’s hands now.

  I like a lot of new things.

  August being the main thing.

  Like the side stink-eye he gives me every time he catches me watching him. He never speaks of it, just continues on with whatever he’s doing.

  August said a quick, gruff hello, and that’s all I have gotten out of him all day since I picked him up. He’s dressed in dark blue jeans with a light blue shirt that continually rides up, giving me an eyeful of his toned stomach, every time he picks up something new.

  I have carried all my small things up already, and now it’s just the bigger items that need placement around the place. I offered help, but he turned me down.

  So I lean against the back of my borrowed truck and simply watch him.

  “You really should remove your shirt. It’s only getting in the way,” I tell him, bringing the straw of my drink to my lips and taking a sip before I let anything else slip out.

  August’s hands go to his shirt, and in a quick movement, he has it off and over his head, then he throws it at my face. I giggle as I pull it away and see him already going on to the next thing.

  “Oh, I didn’t know we signed up for a strip show. Noah, you should do that, too.” I turn to see Noah shaking his head at my sister as he walks by helping August.

  August speaks to him, not in any manner he speaks to me, and I watch, fascinated.

  “Ummm, what’s going on?” Rhianna asks, and I turn to see her staring at me.

  “What?”

  Her eyes fall to where the boys just disappeared then back to me. “You’re staring awfully hard at the man in blue.”

  I blush and shake my head at her words.

  “I asked him to help. He’s helping.”

  “Anderson hasn’t been around?”

  “Nope.”

  “Good. You don’t need that. But we both know who he is…” She pauses. “Just be careful. Because if he sees you with him…” she nods when August walks out, “… I’m not sure I’d like the outcome.”

  I’m not sure I would either. It’s not that we think August couldn’t take on Anderson. No, we know that for sure he would have no problem. But Anderson has connections that could throw August straight back where he doesn’t want to be. Prison. And I would hate to think I had anything to do with that.

  “Don’t stop being ‘friends’ with him. Noah said it’s good for him to get out.”

  “Noah his daddy now?” I joke with her.

  “No, but I have a feeling he is his only friend.” She nudges me. “Apart from you now, of course.”

  “You two seem to be working hard,” Noah says, lifting his shirt and wiping his face.

  The truck is now empty, and my lips turn up as August walks over to us.

  “I’m treating for dinner, as a thank you,” I tell him, then look at my sister and Noah for confirmation.

  “We can’t. Noah has a business thing tonight, and I’m going to keep him company. But you two should go.”

  When I glance at August, he’s not even paying attention to me. He’s closing up the truck and doing his very best to ignore me. Turning back to my sister, I smile before Noah wraps his arms around her and they head inside the apartment.

  “Dinner?” I ask as August closes the door, and his green eyes find mine.

&
nbsp; “I need to change.”

  “You can take my car and come back when you’re ready.” I throw my keys to him. August catches them and glances down at them as if they are on fire before he looks back at me.

  “You trust me with your car?” I can’t help but notice the surprise in his intonation.

  “Should I not?”

  “I could steal it, sell it off for parts.”

  “Okay, umm… you’re really not selling yourself here.” I laugh.

  “Why do you trust me with your car?” he asks, pushing me a little harder.

  “It’s just a car.”

  He shakes his head, steps toward me, and tries to hand the keys back but I don’t take them. “I can find my own way home.”

  “No, take the car, August. And come back for dinner. I’ll even order in if you want.”

  “You want me to stay for dinner?”

  “Yes. Now go, because you really do stink.” I push him away from me. I know he has his license, Noah told me, so I know he can drive, but the way he inspects the keys, you would think he’s won the Willy Wonka Golden Ticket.

  “I’ve never willingly taken a car like this for a drive unless it was stolen,” he says, smirking. “Should I drive it like it's stolen, too?” he asks when he opens the door.

  “You’re making me rethink this.”

  He laughs, gets in, and starts the ignition. The window comes down, and he looks good in it.

  “I’ll treat her real fiiine.” He winks before he pulls out.

  Why, oh why, did those words hit something deep inside me?

  He’s on time. I like that about him. He steps inside and past me, handing me the keys on the way. He smells fresh, and his hair is still wet.

  While he was gone, I managed to tidy up some things and get them in order. I didn’t have to do much, just some bedding, which I bought brand-new, plus a dresser. All my other stuff I brought in the back of my car, and my sister and Noah helped bring the rest in their car as well. But I couldn’t carry it all by myself, and I could’ve paid for a mover, but being around August does something to me.

  I like him.

  A lot.

  “Your parents own this place?” he asks, coming to sit at the table as I order food from my laptop.

  “Indian?” I ask, to which he nods. “Yes. Rhianna wanted to move out. She and my mother clash a lot, so this was a happy medium,” I say, closing the laptop. “Thank you for your help today.”

  “I’ll think of a way you can pay me back.”

  “Well, you think on that and let me know.” I wink, standing and walking to the fridge. I pull out a bottle of wine I bought earlier, and grab two glasses, bringing it all back to the table. “You drink wine?”

  “Do you intend to get me drunk, rich girl?” he asks as his arms come up on the table, crossing over one another. My eyes naturally go to his muscled hands and cross my legs.

  “That wasn’t my intention, but now that you mention it, getting you drunk could be fun.”

  “You really don’t know what you’re doing, do you? I’m not someone you want to be with. Is it amusing to you?” he asks. “To want me? And don’t even deny it, I see the way you stare at me.” I try to keep my cheeks from going pink, but there’s no way that’s going to happen.

  “Why aren’t you someone I might want?” I manage to ask back.

  “Because girls like you go for guys like Noah, not men like me.” His eyes lock on mine. “I’m bad for you. I would taint you, and you would enjoy it to the point where you keep coming back for more because you couldn’t stop when we both know you should.”

  “You think a lot of yourself there, Auggie.” I smirk widely, and he scrunches up his face at the nickname.

  “I know, I’ve seen it. Usually, it ends badly, and it’s not the little rich girl who gets hurt in the situation. It’s the poor guy who warned her.” He sits back, his hands disappearing under the table.

  I hang on to his words and pour us each a glass of wine, sliding his over to him. I lift mine and drink, staring at him over the rim of the glass through my eyelashes. He doesn’t reach for his but watches me instead.

  Placing the glass down, I tap the rim of it. “I’m more than some little rich girl. I’ve worked for everything I have. I paid for that car. I’ll be paying to live here. Yes, my family has money, and yes, I have benefited from that. But that does not mean I am any less or better than you.”

  “What do you want from me, rich girl?” he asks. “Honestly. What do you want? You keep coming around, and you keep calling. What do you want?”

  I pour myself another glass of wine and gulp it down, then look him straight in the eye. “I want you.”

  His fingers tap on the table, then he stands. At first, I think he’s about to head straight out the door, but he comes to stand directly in front of me instead. He reaches down and moves the glass out of the way and puts his finger under my chin, tilting my head up to him.

  “You just want to fuck. You don’t want me.”

  “Why don’t you fuck me then?” I breathlessly whisper.

  He smirks, and my heartbeat picks up.

  “Just fucking?”

  “Just fucking,” I repeat his words.

  He leans down to kiss me, his lips brushing mine ever so slightly. I sit up straighter so I can taste him. But he doesn’t let me. Only the softest of touches is all he’s permitting.

  I want him.

  I need him.

  My heart beats fast, my legs quiver with need, and my hands want to pull him by his hair so he has no choice but to kiss me thoroughly.

  Kiss me, goddamn you.

  “Rich girl,” he says, his lips still brushing mine.

  “Hmmm...” is all I manage.

  “Goodnight,” he says, then pulls away.

  I’m too shocked to stop him, to tell him to come back.

  Does he not want me? Because I know I want him.

  I run out the door just in time to see him running down the street.

  “Asshole,” I yell.

  I hear his chuckle as he sprints away.

  “Fuck,” I whisper.

  The man keeps turning me down, and I keep coming back like some sort of addicted drug addict.

  What is it about August that grips me so?

  Because I sure as shit know it’s not his damn personality. Asshole, tease that he is.

  Stripping, I climb into the shower and try to rid myself of his lips.

  It’s useless.

  He’s all I dream about when I finally fall into a fitful sleep.

  Chapter 12

  August

  “August.”

  I turn at the sound of my name and see my mother standing on the other side of the street. Seeing her was bound to happen, eventually. But I didn’t expect it to be tonight. I guess that’s what I get for choosing to walk home instead of fucking Rylee every which way to Sunday.

  The old bitch crosses the street, and I can tell straight away she’s drunk. Her feet are unstable, and her eyes are glassy. Alcohol is her chosen poison, but that’s not to say she doesn’t love to dabble in everything there is that she can afford. It's one of the reasons I started working for Josh all those years ago, to keep her in alcohol and drug money.

  “August, baby, oh God… look at you.” She reaches out to touch my face, but I step back so she can’t touch me. “August, what’s wrong? Haven’t you missed me?”

  No, not in the fucking slightest.

  I don’t answer her. Instead, I turn and continue my path home.

  “I heard you got mother’s house. You should sell it. We could use that money.” Hence the reason my grandmother never left it to her. “August, don’t you ignore me, son.”

  When I don’t answer her again, she says, “Oh, come on, August, why are you being so rude to your mother?” I turn to see Josh leaning on his car, right next to my mother. Of course, they’re together.

  A car pulls in front of me. It’s Rylee. She glances at me, then to my mo
ther, who’s staring at her car. “Get in.” I do because the alternative is not what I want. “You know her?” she asks as she pulls away.

  Josh watches us go with a smirk on his face.

  “No.”

  “Okay,” she says. “Look, I’m sorry for… before.” She doesn’t go into any more detail. I can see she’s showered, and she smells like strawberries.

  Now I’m craving strawberries.

  “What? For asking me to fuck you?”

  She gasps at my bluntness, and her hands squeeze the steering wheel tightly. She’s dressed in what appears to be a long shirt. I can’t help but check out her legs.

  “Why did you come?”

  “I realized you didn’t have a ride. It was rude of me to let you leave, considering you don’t live around the corner.”

  We sit in silence as I stare out the window.

  “That was my mother,” I tell her as we arrive at my house.

  “You aren’t close?”

  “No. She’s an alcoholic and a druggie. So no, I stay away from her. Far away.”

  Rylee comes to a stop, and I get out of her car. Closing the door, I walk around to hers and open it. “Come in.”

  “I don’t have shoes on. I ran to the car from the shower.” She touches her wet hair, and I realize she didn’t even dry it. The back of her shirt is soaked.

  “Get out of the car, rich girl,” I command.

  She turns the car off and steps one foot out, followed by the other. I bend and put my arms under her knees, then pick her up so she doesn’t have to walk barefoot to the front door. She squeals when I do it but places her arms around my neck as I carry her bridal-style to the front of the house.

  “Do you know why you’re coming in?” I ask, glancing down at her. I like the feel of her in my arms, so much so that I don’t want to put her down when we get to the door. But of course, I do.

  “I have no idea with you anymore,” she replies truthfully.

  As soon as the front door is unlocked, I reach for her face, sliding my hands on either side of it and touching my lips to hers. She opens with need the minute my tongue demands attention, and I shift backward, lifting her so her feet wrap around my waist. I feel her ass underneath her shirt and squeeze it as I kick the door shut.