“Tell me you didn’t miss me,” he prompts, crowding her on the chair.
“Irrelevant. If I can’t trust you to have my back when I need you, what’s the point?”
Doing my best to drown out their drama, it’s Sean’s last confession that has my ears perking back up. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but I don’t know what that is when it comes to you.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, for both our sakes, I should probably leave you alone, but I’m not fucking going to.”
There it is—the truth he refuses to spare either of us as he kisses her to drill his point home. As I thought, he’s been fighting himself when it comes to her—while I’ve made a firm decision the predicament will remain his and his alone. Tipping my beer, I survey the sparkling pool and surrounding grounds while I tune in on their back and forth.
“。 . . Father has security cameras set up everywhere, and he’s already threatened me about having company. This isn’t going to bode well.”
Which is precisely the reason for our ambush today.
Surprisingly, Sean lets her in on the camera surveillance solution, me, but not the when.
Sean really does trust her, and due to my decision to let her through—if only to hasten serving up Roman’s justice—means she’ll be privy to a lot more in the coming days and weeks. But whatever Sean’s thinking about regarding Cecelia long term is delusional. On that, I decide to let my brother be the one to break it to him when the time comes.
At the moment, Roman is boarding a plane for a day trip to one of his Detroit plants, which gives us just enough time to get in and out. When the subject is redirected to me, Sean pleads my case. “Look, he isn’t easy. But he’s here because he wants to be.”
Part truth, part lie.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better? The guy is a motherfucker.”
Tipping my beer to again hide my grin, Tyler intervenes. “Good. Mom and Dad made up. Time to celebrate.” He sprays them with a beer as Cecelia’s laughter rings out, and Sean and I lock eyes as I ready myself to play my part.
My turn to make nice.
He scoops Cecelia up honeymoon style and delivers her to me by jumping them both into the pool. Breaching water, she sputters out her scold as they begin to coo at one another until Sean’s cellphone rings. He immediately exits the pool darting a glance my way before he answers with a, “Hey, Dad.”
Right now, Dad is being played by Jeremy. He’s giving us the all clear, stating Roman’s plane is climbing toward an altitude he can’t be reached—and we can’t be monitored.
Feeling the weight of her familiar stare, Cecelia inches toward me, where I lean against the shallow end wall. Her eyes roaming over me in an unmistakable way.
“I suppose you want an apology,” I say, close enough to drink in every detail. She’s pure temptation—long, drenched, slightly fire-kissed hair, perfect fucking features, bee-stung lips, palm-sized tits, toned torso, ample curves—a literal wet fucking dream. The triangle of material between her thighs hovers just above the water as she inches toward me.
Despite the grudge I have against her maker, she really is the most beautiful fucking girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. Along with a mix of things that would allure any man—innocent and forbidden.
A mouthwatering combination of fire and water.
But despite my body’s constant reaction to her—not for me.
“I won’t hold my breath,” she scoffs.
Downing my beer, I hold up a finger. “Okay, I think I’m ready . . .” I exaggerate my exhale. “I’m sorry I told Sean I caught you staring at my dick.”
She surprises me by tossing her head back and laughing, and I can’t help my return smile. Her eyes widen at the sight of it before she speaks up.
“You are a rare bastard.”
“I prefer motherfucker.” Her eyes bulge. Yeah, I heard you, mouse.
“At least then, it would be somewhat factual. Isn’t that right, Tyler?”
We both glance over to Tyler, who shoots me the finger, adding in a “Fuck You.”
Cecelia and I share a grin as her navy eyes dance along my profile, dipping further with every word she speaks. “You had your door open. I was surprised, to say the least.”
“And the other five minutes?” I quip.
“Do women actually sleep with you?”
“No, never. They’re too busy screaming my name. Except the last girl, she was like a corpse.”
No offense, Ginger.
“You are unreal. Psychiatrist’s dream indeed.”
Her eyes glaze as a little silence lingers—as does her appraisal of me. “What are you thinking about?”
Her guilty gaze drops. “Nothing.”
This girl has no chance of making it in our world if she can’t play off something as simple as sexual attraction. Though I can, I find myself in a new but predictable pattern as I fight my cock’s reaction to her. Thankful when Tyler leaves his lounger and Sean nears with a nod for the both of us, I turn and push out of the pool. Out of time for the patty cake portion of the plan, I begin walking toward the back door, and Cecelia speaks up. “Where are you going?”
“Have to use the can.”
“You could ask.”
The clank of the gate closing at the side of the house cues me in, and I turn and lower my shorts.
“Oh my God,” Cecelia sounds up behind me with fast directions, “through the door past the study, down the hall on the left. Savage.”
Candy from a baby.
“Oh, I think I might like that better than motherfucker.”
Sean joins her in the pool, promptly stealing her attention.
Closing the back door, I glance around before stalking through to the front door and opening it where Tyler stands in wait, our packed duffle bag in hand.
Within seconds we’re in Roman’s sad excuse of a security closet, six surveillance screens stacked atop each other on small shelves.
“You were right. He’s got them angled to capture every possible approach.”
“It’s the reason he built it like this. No ambush is possible without being flagged. Which means there’s something in this house worth finding.”
“Then why wouldn’t he update his cameras?”
“Because he had no real plans of living here.”
“So why bring her here?”
We’re still no closer to finding out why a month after her arrival.
“Exactly,” I say, unzipping the duffle.
Tyler flips through the screens, stopping as Sean corners Cecelia in the pool and begins fucking her.
“Lucky bastard,” he groans, as my eyes linger a little longer on the twist of her features before he kills our view. “Now, let’s hope the fucker has some stamina because, as you know, it’s been a whole week.”
He rolls his eyes due to the number of arguments we’ve had with Sean in trying to keep him at bay until we could figure out how to use their little love quarrel to our advantage. Though he made it my call, he’s been vocal about the time it’s taken.
Taking what I need from Tyler’s backpack, I drop my soaked trunks and start toweling off.
“Jesus, man, some fucking warning would have been nice.”