Текст книги "Bad Boy's Baby"

Автор книги: Sosie Frost

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 28 страниц)

Zach’s smile returned. He grabbed an apple from a basket and pointed over his shoulder.

“I’ll be downstairs in the gym working out. Then I’ll test the theater system with a movie. You’re welcome to join me. Take some time to mull it over. Let me know what you think.”

Easy. “I’m not sharing this house with you!”

He sunk his teeth into the apple and waved as he headed downstairs.

To the gym.

And then to the theater.

We had a theater?

No. I had a theater. And he thought he could steal it away until I paid him off to return what was rightfully mine?

Hell no.

Zach Harden wasn’t getting away with this.

He wasn’t getting a dime of my money, a single restful night’s sleep in my house, or another side-long glance from me.

From that moment on, I declared war.

Except it wasn’t a good idea to fight dirty with a SEAL. And I didn’t trust myself to confront Zach again, not when everything inside me clenched hard and tight when I imagined him straining those muscles while lifting the weights.

Nope.

We couldn’t live together.

I refused to bunk with the most desirable, infuriating, and despicable man I had ever met. My apartment near campus would be fine until we sorted the mess out. I’d go there, call William, and straighten the whole thing out.

Immediately.

Well, maybe tomorrow.

My apartment didn’t have air-conditioning.

…And this mansion had a theater system.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to spend one night here even if Zach were around. Besides, how else would I keep track of the devil if he loitered under my roof?

I headed outside to explore the grounds, though I took a detour through one of the two wine cellars and grabbed something white, bubbly, and fruity. Dad had taste at least, but I’d need something much stronger to combat Zach Harden.

That fiend was never taking advantage of me again. And he’d be lucky if I let him camp in the corner of the property with a hole to sleep in, a can of soup to eat, and only the memory of me and what he lost to keep him warm.

No one made me a fool.

And Zach would learn that lesson.

Chapter Six – Shay

My father had more assets than I thought.

I knew he was wealthy, but now I saw the bank statements and investment reports and property listings. Dad was lucky the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future hadn’t paid him a visit.

While Momma stewed in her declared independence and clipped coupons, Dad sailed away from his responsibilities on a yacht.

A yacht that also belonged to Zach.

He could take the part under the water.

My phone buzzed. Azariah was the last one I wanted to talk to. She expected a play-by-play of the magic night I told her about. My father’s funeral wasn’t the place or time to discuss my sex life, especially around family who might be less than enthusiastic with my wild oats being of the…paler variety.

But at lot changed between my night with Zach and now. Azariah was the type to lend a sympathetic ear only until she thought she could live your life better.

At this point, she probably could. I answered the call anyway.

“How’s my favorite millionaire?” Azariah tapped on her keyboard. Calling from work. Always the multi-tasker. “Hanging in there?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I said. “There’s more money than we thought.”

“More?” She screeched and tisked her tongue at someone who must have passed her desk. She scolded him and then returned to me. “You, mind your business. Shay, I’m listening. How many more zeros are we talking?”

“Three?”

“Damn.”

“Look, it’s really complicated. I’m kinda in the middle of a giant freaking mess, and it’s only getting worse because I can’t fix much of it until I get the trust fund.”

“That sucks. You have all the money in the world, and you can’t touch it.”

“Momma fought tooth, nail, and weave to make sure of it.”

“I loved Kaydon to death, but I never understood her.”

I scattered the investment reports on my desk. “She wanted me to learn independence. At least I had my car and school paid for.”

“Lucky.”

I knew it too. That didn’t help the guilt. Because of Dad’s money, I could do whatever I wanted in life. Which was good. I studied to be a teacher, and they weren’t necessarily known for their stellar paychecks. But the salary hadn’t mattered. My goal was to find a job somewhere, anywhere, and I’d teach kids more than letters and numbers. I’d make sure they never felt alone.

Ever.

But my textbooks were pushed onto the floor to make room for more boxes, and my student teaching schedule pinned over my desk. Moving to the mansion meant a long commute. Could I give that up just to stay close to my school? Hard choice. Until I made it, the books remained on the floor, and my apartment existed in a state of mess, half-way packed.

“So…?” Azariah clicked a pen. She’d probably draw some fantastic picture by the end of her shift. She hated the gig at the sales office, but it gave her time to sketch. I planned to buy her first piece of art for a ridiculous price to generate buzz for her name. It’d work, if she’d find the courage to push it into the world. “Tell me about the guy you met.”

“It’s…complicated.”

“Is there anything about you that isn’t complicated anymore?” She snorted. “You have all the money in the world. Cars, houses, mansions, and you got laid. You’re living the dream.”

Not quite. I sucked in a breath. “My father married Emily before they died.”

“Who? His girlfriend?” Azariah breathed into the phone. “No.”

“She had a son. And he…” I banished the memory of his lips pressing into my neck. “Made it into the will.”

“No way!” Azariah whooped. “Girl, this is some Lifetime movie shit.”

“It gets worse.”

Azariah hushed me for a second before muffling the phone and announcing to anyone listening in the office. “I’m going on break, ya’ll! Keep talking, girl. Who is this son?”

“I already met him.”

Silence. She waited, not making it easy on me.

“He and I…met.”

“Oh.” She figured it out. “Oh, Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“You…and your step-brother?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, honey. This is beyond Lifetime. This belongs on Maury Povich.”

“It’s horrible,” I said.

“Did you know it was him?”

“Of course not!” Give me some credit. “But I have a lot to figure out.”

“But…” Azariah hummed. “Was he any good?”

I tossed a suitcase onto the bed, but nothing from my drawers made it in. “He’s my step-brother!”

“Well…I mean…he’s not blood.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“People do fucked up shit all the time. You’re rich. You can get away with it.”

I sighed. “Not this.”

“All those kings and queens in Europe used to do it.”

“I’m not a queen!”

“Didn’t Woody Allen marry his adopted daughter?”

“Gross.”

She snickered. “Maybe you’ve been watching too much Game of Thrones.”

“It’s not funny! This is a problem! I have to deal with this guy, okay?”

“It’s a little funny.”

I didn’t need her attitude. “I’m hanging up now.”

“Sorry.” She let it pass, but I knew her too well. She wasn’t done. She circled the pack, looking for somewhere weak to sink her teeth. “But you know this wouldn’t have happened if you had just talked with your dad.”

I packed all of my underwear into the suitcase. I had more than I thought. Now the latches wouldn’t close. Fantastic.

“He left us,” I said. “We had nothing to discuss. Don’t make me feel guilty. I’m on a hair trigger.”

“He was trying to start a relationship. The car and school and gifts. He extended an olive branch.”

And I broke that twig over my knee and cast it into a fire. “I know. But it doesn’t change anything. He made his choice. Hell, he even started a new family.”

“It really is sad.”

And now I had more guilt. “I gotta get packing. I’m heading up to the—” I didn’t want to say mansion. “—House.”

“When can I see it?”

It was probably visible if she squinted and looked at the horizon. “Whenever you like.”

“You’ll need to have a big graduation party there, Shay. Something to celebrate your trust.”

“I guess.”

“You leave that to me. I’ll plan you something worthy of an MTV special.”

God help us all. Azariah was eager to keep talking, but she miraculously had to go when I asked if she’d help me pack. I was on my own to box up my things and transform myself into someone completely different.

A mansion awaited me, just a little ways north of the city.

A whole mansion.

Pools and hot tubs, patios and gardens, fountains and statues. Downton Abbey was my new reality, except I didn’t have a lick of English inside me…not without Zach’s persistence.

Except, it didn’t feel right. None of it.

So why did I want to live there so badly?

I knew it was more than money and security and luxury. The estate was the only bit of family I had left.

How was I supposed to know Dad would die?

I sighed. No sense dwelling on the past. Momma always said we’d have more than enough time at Judgement for that.

First thing was first. I needed to buy luggage. I wasn’t moving into a beautiful new mansion hauling garbage bags full of clothing into my room.

The knocking rattled my door just as I finished folding my last pair of socks. I grinned—who thought Azariah would actually help me move?

I bounded to the door, swinging it open without bothering to greet her. I grabbed an armful of dirty laundry from the living room. No more quarters for the machines downstairs. Hell, I could buy new outfits whenever mine needed to be washed.

“Azariah, Grab whatever looks like clothes and follow me.” The laundry smothered me as I gave the order. “We have to figure out how to stuff everything I own into one suitcase.”

I hobbled to the bedroom and dropped the armful of clothes onto the already bigger pile cluttering the floor. Maybe Dad did help more than I thought. Without worrying about car payments or school, I had much more disposable income to spend on my wardrobe.

I examined the mess. Where did I get a Taylor Swift shirt? That was Azariah’s doing. I kicked the shirt over to her and finally looked up.

I hadn’t welcomed Azariah into my apartment.

It was Zach.

And he picked up the laciest, pinkest pair of panties I owned. He stretched them between his fingers.

“Packing the necessities?” He asked.

Oh, sweet Jesus.

I leapt over the bed and slammed shut the suitcase brimming with panties. The bed frame was a piece of junk. The slats holding the box-spring slipped, and everything tumbled, including the suitcase. Zach laughed as a wave of panties cascaded over his legs.

“What the hell are you doing in my room?” I shrieked.

He jerked a thumb to the door. His t-shirt tightened over his biceps. Didn’t he have any clothes that fit?

“You let me in.”

“Well, get out!”

“Why?”

“Because this place only has me on the lease. You don’t live here!”

Dimples, a flash of teeth, and a quirked eyebrow. He disarmed me without even trying.

“Relax. I wanted to see if you needed help moving.” He wagged a folder in his hand. “William called me. Said he had some paperwork for us. I volunteered to bring it.”

I took the folder. “Thanks. Get out.”

He declined with a smile. “So, you’re packing? Decided to come stay with me after all?”

“I’ve decided to live in the house that my father passed to me.”

“I haven’t had a roommate for a while. Hopefully it’s better than the barracks.”

“We are not roommates.”

“Not yet. Look at all this packing you have to do.” His grin would suffocate me. “Seriously, need any help getting this to the car?”

“Not from you.”

Zach motioned to sit on my bed. I chased him away.

“Shay, come on. There’s no sense being angry.”

I had every right to be angry. I fluttered around his feet, collecting stray bits of the sluttiest and most embarrassing underwear I had. I didn’t know what was worse—the granny panties or the slinky silk ones.

I poked his chest as he dared to get in my way, but brandishing a thong at him wasn’t threatening.

“You tricked me,” I said. “You had sex with me without saying you were my step-brother. You lied about who you were, why you found me, and what you were doing. It was cruel, and I want nothing to do with you now. No help. No moving. No nothing.”

“How am I supposed to make it better if you won’t even listen to me?”

“There’s nothing to make-better. You are beyond apologies at this point.”

“Give me a chance?

Was he kidding? I threw the laundry onto the bed. “Zach, you hurt me.”

His smile faded. “It wasn’t my intention.”

“First I poured my soul out to you, and then we had…”

And there I went again, imagining everything I had tried not to imagine for the past week and a half.

And he must have imagined it too. Zach shifted, adjusting himself without making it obvious he was adjusting.

That namesake again.

Hard.

He lived up to it. He was supremely gifted. Just knowing how he had felt, tasted, and pleasured was too much for me to handle right now.

Or ever again.

“You are the biggest mistake of my life.” I took a breath, but I didn’t let him intimidate me. “But you know what? I’m going to take you up on your offer.”

Zach tilted his head—a look I’d consider cute and puppyish if I didn’t know better. He was no little rolly-polly cutie, he was the wolf. Cunning. Sleek. Built for power and precision. I didn’t meet his gaze. The green was far too inviting for what I needed to say.

“You’re going to come stay at the mansion?” He stepped closer, twirling the little pink panties around his finger. “It’s a good idea, Shay. We could keep each other company. Again.”

I braced as he approached. He was huge, powerful, and perfect. I had never felt petite before, but in his shadow, I was overwhelmed.

Zach could haul me around a bed with one arm and then cuddle me against his strength when we were done. And I remembered the wonderful things he’d whispered, things that warmed me from inside once more.

My chest tightened, and everything else clenched too. How could a man who was so wrong, so horrible, and so awful tempt me?

My head and heart tangled with each other. Neither could overpower the other.

Con-artist.

Sexiest man I ever touched.

Liar.

He smiled, baring his teeth, reminding me of his teasing bite.

Step-brother.

He was too close to me. The rugged, dusty scent of him dizzied my head worse than the drinks he bought me that night. I would have done anything if he were just a stranger, just someone I met, just someone I could have once more.

But he wasn’t.

He was Zach. He was the worst thing that ever happened to me.

And he was still holding my panties.

I ripped them away from him, but my fingers brushed his. A dozen little shivers cracked into a thousand tiny whispers with a million different regrets. His hand warmed mine, so much bigger and stronger than my delicate palm. His skin, light and fair, contrasted mine with perfect beauty. Like we were made opposite just to be brought together. Two sides of a coin. Two polar extremes of a magnet.

My mouth dried. He stilled.

“Shay—”

His voice rumbled with a playboy’s confidence, the smooth jazz of a man who knew what he liked and got it every time.

But not this time.

I couldn’t let him do this to me.

Not again.

New life rule. Zach was a sin, even worse than the cardinal ones, if they made it. Blue-jay maybe. Or, since he was an American soldier, Bald Eagle Sin.

In any case, Zach Harden was completely off-limits to me. Forbidden. And I had one way to make sure he left my life forever.

It wasn’t every day a girl could recover from her mistakes with grace. It was an even rarer day she could buy redemption.  I had the money. I had the opportunity. I would spend as much as I could if it meant banishing my greatest mistake. Enough was enough.

“I’m moving to the mansion,” I said. “But once I get my trust, I’m buying your half of the estate from you. After that’s done, you’ll have no reason to contact me again.”

“Fair is fair.” Zach leaned close. “Though I think you’re missing a great opportunity.”

“For what?”

“To fall for me.”

I met his gaze, just as hard and deliberate as the rest of him. “I would rather lose every penny to my name than fall for you.”

“Say the word. You can get me for free.”

I laughed. “Cherish your memories. That’s all you’ll ever have.”

“Those are some priceless memories, baby.” He grabbed a packed box from the floor, but nearly dropped it. His fingers trembled. He cracked his knuckles and tried again, lifting it without a problem. “Are these going?”

“Put it down.”

He winked. “I’ll take it home for you. But don’t be late. I’m ordering dinner for seven.”

He grabbed another box on the way out.

Great. I was barefoot, and every pair of shoes I owned was packed in the box he carried outside. My panties scattered in his wake.

 I groaned.

Living with Zach would be living with pure temptation. Either I’d throttle him or I’d…

I didn’t let myself finish the thought. There was no other alternative. We could tolerate each other in a semi-peaceful truce and that was it. No ordered dinners. No falling for him.

And no reason for him to have stolen my favorite pair of black panties!

I rifled through my suitcase and checked under the bed. Gone. God, he was a pervert.

I fumed.

He had it right. He deserved every part of his nickname.

Living with Zach was going to be H-a-r-d.

Chapter Seven – Zach

The mansion had a lot of perks. The gym. The pool. I even got myself a king-sized bed.

But a bed like this wasn’t for sleeping. I could think of much better things to do on it.

But the one woman I wanted in the bed was the one who wanted nothing to do with me while horizontal.

Good thing I was just as proficient when vertical.

I kicked my duffle bag into the closet. This wasn’t a room that deserved a mess on the floor. The bed had eight fucking pillows. Who the hell used that many pillows? Or a quilt that looked like someone stretched and ruined a scarf then tossed it over a corner. They painted the ceiling with cherubs, and mismatched marble and granite in the fireplace.

It was all my mother’s doing, as was most of the décor in the house. If Shay noticed the mansion transitioned from eighteenth century France to nineteenth century Venice, she said nothing. My mother transformed the estate into journey through history. We were lucky she hadn’t require powdered wigs and cummerbunds to enjoy it.

I couldn’t fault her style, even if the bleach in her hair scrambled what she thought looked classy. At least Mom and Darnell had been happy before the end. She wanted a guy with a bottomless wallet to take care of her, and he liked them blonde and pumped full of silicon. Match made in Heaven.

I wished them well and then headed overseas. It wasn’t my place to judge and, hell, I didn’t have time for family. But life had a funny way of trapping you in an ambush and splitting your flesh with two pounds of explosive shrapnel. Fate spoke to me, saying slow down or bleed out. I woke from surgery with my mother talking about diamonds, tulle veils, and destination weddings. Took her two days and one seizure before she asked which of my organs didn’t make it back from Iraq.

Par for the fucking course.

My head pounded. The bed looked good, but so did the stack of weights in the basement gym and the salt-water pool. I needed to do both.

I kicked the pillows off the bed instead.

I didn’t need this luxury. I got used to lying in two inches of standing water and sucking mud in the middle of monsoons. I once laid motionless for twenty-two straight hours in the stinging desert waiting for a target to slip from the hut where the fucker traded children for God-knows-what. And that night was comfortable compared to other assignments.

And now I owned a king-sized bed with a remote that controlled the television, lights, stereo, climate settings, and security systems.

I even had a panic room.

A SEAL.

In a panic room.

Unless an intruder planned on locking me inside of it, the fucker messing with me was in more danger—even while I blinked away headaches.

A headache that was getting worse.

“Fuck it.”

I yanked my shirt over my head and kicked off my boots. Pretty sure there was a hamper somewhere in my room, but damn if I cared.

I collapsed on the bed, feet kicked over the side. Close enough. The migraine came on strong. I clenched my eyes shut, but that didn’t do shit. I flopped over into the remaining pillows and buried my head. That was better. Darker at least. Comfortable.

Except for my namesake.

Christ.

I shifted. My cock didn’t. Hard didn’t begin to describe it.

I spent entirely too much time thinking about Shay, and I wasted even more concocting a crazy excuse for a chance to see her again.

Christ she was pretty when she got mad.

Shay was the kind of beautiful you hallucinated after a blow to the head. And she was the one girl who’d make me swallow my tongue before I thought of something clever to say.

Like…I probably should have told you I was your step-brother before I fucked you. That might have helped. Keeping it secret rubbed her the wrong way…which was ironic since our problems started when I rubbed her the right way.

I couldn’t get her out of my head or the blood out of my cock. I hoped my headache would temper my reaction, but if Shay’s hatred hadn’t swayed me, nothing would.

She didn’t know it yet, but the SEALs trained me for intricate games of cat-and-mouse. I lived for the hunt. And after I caught Shay? I’d make sure she was both stuffed and mounted.

If she didn’t kill me first.

“Get out of my bed.”

Fuck.

The pounding headache only just started to yield. Figured. I gritted my teeth and rolled. Didn’t make it up, but I bluffed anyway. I patted the pillow beside me as my vision cleared.

“You could join me.”

“Are you always such an asshole?”

“Do you always burst into people’s bedrooms uninvited?”

I tucked my arms behind my head. My lovely intruder fumbled with a suitcase packed with more panties than a sexy woman like her ever needed to wear. She was pissed. That only made it more fun. I got off on making everything a war with her. She wound up too easy and exploded with all the subtlety of a grenade.

Last time I checked, she didn’t have that big of a stick up her ass. Still, watching her squirm amused the fuck out of me, even if it ruined my chances to glimpse that perfectly delicious backside.

“This is the master bedroom,” she said.

I grinned. “Didn’t know you were into those types of games.”

She dropped the suitcase. “How dare you take the master bedroom!”

“What’s wrong with this bedroom?”

“It should be…this was my father’s house!”

I tilted my head. “And my mother’s.”

“Don’t you think I should have the master bedroom? This is my house, built with my father’s money.”

Was everything going to be such a fucking pissing contest with her? She wouldn’t give up until I slept in the yard.

I wouldn’t stop until I had her in the bed with me.

But we wouldn’t be sleeping.

“I thought you’d take the room down the hall,” I said. Did she even see the monstrosity her father specifically designed for her? Like a scene from fucking Narnia. “It has a better balcony.”

“I don’t want a balcony. I want the master bedroom. I want you gone. I want—” She groaned, frustrated. “I don’t know what to say to you! You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be. Are you that much of a child?”

“I’m not the one throwing a tantrum because she doesn’t want to share her things.”

She not-so-silently counted to ten. “Zach, don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“Gotta admit. I’ve never heard a pretty girl say that before.”

“I can’t believe this.” Shay paced the room. “I’ve been here for five minutes and already you’re being a monumental asshole.”

“I was sleeping.”

“I thought this could work. I thought you were serious when you said we’d share this place.”

“What did I do? I was sleeping.”

Shay wove her fingers through her thick, ebony curls.

“This is crazy. I don’t even know you—” She pointed a finger at me. “And if you say anything about knowing me in a biblical way Imma smack that smirk off your face.”

Challenge accepted.

“Come on.” I extended my arms. “Do you really think I’m some big, bad troublemaker out to rob you blind?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you think I’m some sexual fiend who will creep on you in the middle of the night?”

Her almond eyes flicked over me. “Probably.”

“Think I’m a dangerous, powerful man who will threaten your pretty little body?”

She stepped closer. Her voice lowered, her best attempt at sounding intimidating. “How would I know?”

Shay was within my arm’s reach. Entirely too close. I could have snatched her in my grasp and thrown her on the bed. If I had my way, I’d bury my face between her mocha legs and lick until I had my fill. She’d tasted like everything perfect—that first bite of summer ice-cream, cake batter straight from the spatula, a sip of forbidden alcohol before I turned twenty-one.

I remembered lapping up her honeyed desire, and it tortured my dreams every night. She was so unbelievably sweet I would have offered my half of the house just to look at that tight little pussy once more.

My jeans dug into my cock. It wasn’t the pressure I wanted. Shay licked her lips. She got flustered when she realized she was staring.

My growl reserved for her and her alone. “You know you have nothing to fear around me.”

“I’m sharing a house with a perfect stranger. It’s wise to be careful.”

“Then let me put your concerns to rest.” My smile wasn’t meant to charm her. It was as much of a warning as my throbbing cock allowed. “I’m not someone you run from. You’re gonna come to me. Just say the word, and I swear, not an inch of your beautiful body would regret climbing into my bed.”

“You’re one cocky son of a bitch.”

“When you have a cock like mine, you get to be a bastard.”

She didn’t argue. Couldn’t argue. She knew I was right. She remembered how it pounded within her, how every frantic thrust and deliberate slam was meant to earn a not-so-innocent mew from her trembling lips.

And that was the way it should have been. None of this but you’ve been my step-brother for a couple days bullshit. Not the territorial fear that somehow I conned her family out of millions.

It wasn’t sex between us. It was something addicting.

Life-affirming.

Ball-fucking-shattering.

And I knew she felt it too. She tried to shy away from me. She faced me only after building her defenses. I’d strip them as easily as her respectable little blouse and skirt.

She couldn’t fool me. I saw what she hid in her panty drawer. Beneath the conservative shirts and thigh-hugging skirts, Shay expressed herself with thongs, lace, and ribbons. Dozens of colors. A handful of designs.

Just waiting for the right man to lay her down, nip the elastic, and drag that silk over the dark paradise that crested between her legs.

“You believe me now?” I chuckled through a husky command. “You’ve got nothing to fear sharing a house with me.”

She licked her lips. “I have everything to fear.”

“Like what?”

“Like why you’re looking at me like that.”

She was lucky I was only looking. “You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever met.”

“At least in this port.”

“I’ve been around the world, baby. Searched high and low for a perfect face, perfect tits, perfect pussy.”

She arched her eyebrow. “Haven’t looked in the branches of the family tree then?”

“Climb in deep enough and no one would ever see us.”

“And that’s why I don’t trust you.”

I laughed. “No one said anything about trust. But don’t worry. I’m not coming after you.” I lured her closer with a smirk. “Not when you’ll come to me.”

“Unlikely. I’ll be too comfortable sleeping in this bed.”

“You want it?” I extended my arms. “Come and get it.”

She took the bait. Shay grabbed my hand and tugged, unsuccessfully pulling me from the bed. I resisted only enough to toss her off-balance. She tumbled forward, falling into my arms.

Then I did what every red-blooded American patriot would do.

I tucked her under me, wrapped one hand in her hair while the other caressed her cheek, and I lowered my lips to hers.

What she squealed in protest silenced with the flick of my tongue against hers. Shay’s full, perfect lips surrendered within moments, softening and nibbling with the intensity of my kiss. I devoured her, worshiped her, and promised to replicate every single flick, bite, and suck on her other, equally-deserving areas.

I wanted more than a kiss.

I needed more than a kiss.

Christ, after everything I had gone through—the injuries and recoveries, dealing with Mom’s bullshit, hiding her cocaine-induced death that the cops kept silent out of respect for the family’s money—I deserved more than R&R. T&A was more like it, and the only one I wanted to recuperate with was Shay.

She warmed beneath me. I broke my hold on her lips to kiss the cocoa perfection of her neck. I nibbled over the delicate hollow at the base of her throat.

She had liked that before.

She shivered.

She still did.

Shay hid nothing from me, not while she writhed in full-body shudders from just the barest hint of my touch.

And I planned to do much more than touch.

I gripped her hips, hard and fierce, just like before. Her low purr surged my blood to my cock, and I pressed that promise against her.

She remembered that too.

Gasped. Scowled.

Pushed?

“Get off of me.”

Whoa.

I did as the lady commanded, backing away as she burst off the bed. She covered her face, placing as much distance between her and my petty officer as she could.

“Easy.” I raised my hands. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Shay’s voice shrilled. “What’s wrong is that we are brother and sister.”

“Not…really.” I shrugged. “Technically, I guess. Is it that big of a deal?”

Apparently it mattered to her. “I can’t believe I kissed you.” She glanced down. “You unbuttoned my shirt? How! When?”

I wiggled my fingers, catching a glimpse of a lacey bra stacked with cocoa secrets. “It’s a talent.”

“Oh my God!” She turned to fix her blouse. “This absolutely, positively can’t happen, Zach. It can’t. This is so wrong.”

“Calm down.”

“We’re family.”

“And we didn’t do anything.” My throbbing cock could attest to that. “We’re fine. Look at us. Brother and sister. Perfectly legit. Not fucking.”

“Not fucking. Right.”

I’d come just from hearing her say the word. Damn it. I hoped the mansion had the coldest goddamned water running through its pipes. I suffered in the purest fantasy of the press of her lips, the tightness of her slit, and the perfect breathy gasp of her excitement.

Shay was worked up too, but not in the good way.