“What’shis issue?”
Ishake my head. “WishIknew.Inmy more sympathetic moments,Ithink he’s struggled to handle the success.Andthe money that comes with it.”
Mymouth’s dry from sharing informationIdon’t usually talk about outside my family, soItake a sip of water.Afterplacing the glass on the nightstand,Iturn to facePollyand wrap my leg around her waist.Islide my hand up her smooth outer thigh and rest it on the side of her butt.
“Soundslike ambitious genes run in your family,” she says.
“I’mnot sure about that.”Irun the fingers of my other hand along her collarbone and down between her breasts.Myeyes follow every inch of their movement over her delicious, velvety skin.
Hersoftness, her empathy for others, is like catnip for my secrets.Knowingshe’d understand everything makes me want to tell her more.Toreveal thingsI’venever revealed.Iwant her to know more about me than the surface-level appearances of hard work, designer suits, and a sharp tongue.Iwant her to know we have more in common than she thinks.Thatwe have shared experiences that connect us more than she knows.AndIknow enough by now to be sure she’d react with nothing but compassion.
“Thesibling drive for success might be more to do with the family meetingIcalled whenIwas fifteen.Imade the five of us swear a pact to work our asses off to make our fortunes so my parents would never have to work a day in their lives again.”
Myfingers continue their trail under the lower curve of her breast.Mymouth waters at the thought of wrapping my lips around that hard pink nipple, and my cock throbs with desire to rub against it.
“Wow.”Polly’sface is etched with compassion. “That’svery self-aware for a teenager.Itreally must have been a struggle, then.”
Inod. “Itwas tough for a while.”
Islide my fingers lower, to her belly button.Iwant nothing more than to continue its journey south, back to her warm, wet center, and stroke her until she comes against my hand.Butin this moment,Ihave a choice to tell her more.Totell her somethingI’vetold no one.Noteven my brousins.Maybethat would be even more intimate.
Thatmight be a good choice.
So, instead,Itrace a line across to her side and rest my hand on her waist. “Ididn’t realizehowtough, though, until one nightIwas coming down for a drink of water and heard my dad crying to my mom.”
Unableto lookPollyin the eye,Iwatch my finger circle her hip bone.
“Crying,”Irepeat and swallow hard.
It’slikeI’mright back there, sitting halfway down the stairs, craning my neck to peer through the gap in the living room door.Seeingmy father kneeling on the floor in front of my mom, his head in her lap as she strokes his hair.
Exactlyas it did then, my chest burns with the pain of every one of his sobs.
“Mydad.Aman’s man.”There’sa fire in my throat. “He’dbe mortified if he ever found outIsaw that.”
Iturn my head and look away from her, watching the thin white curtains by theFrenchdoors ripple in the warm breeze. “HetoldMomhe didn’t know if they could make rent the next month.”
Pollysmooths her hand flat against my cheek, absorbing some of the pain she no doubt detects in my words. “Howold were you then?”Hervoice is soft.
Iconcentrate on the wafting curtains. “Ten.”
Shestrokes my cheek. “Ohmy,God.That’sso much for a young boy to see.”
Irest my fingers on top of hers and interlace them against my face. “Thena couple of months later, we were suddenly moving.”
Ipull her hand to my mouth and drop my lips to her palm, inhaling the comforting scent of her skin. “MomandDadtold us it was time for a big adventure and a move to a whole new place.Butthe new place was smaller and farther out of the city, and we five boys had to share two bedrooms.”
“Ican’t imagine how difficult it must have been for them.”Sherests a warm hand on my leg under the covers.
Inod and gather the courage to say the words that have only ever sat in my mind and have never crossed my lips. “Ithink we were evicted.”
Myheart aches exactly like it did then, and the need to take care of my parents consumes me again.
Butthis time,Polly’sarms wrap around my neck as her naked chest presses against mine.Thistime, there’s someone to hold against me, to share it with.
“Christ,Max,” she sighs. “Didyou tell the others?”
Ishake my head against hers. “Never.ButIthought about it over and over, for years.Andthat’s why, whenIwas fifteen,Isat the guys down and made them agree to the billionaire pact.”Myfingers trace a path up and down her spine. “Myparents sacrificed a lot for us.AndIwanted us to be able to take care of them as soon as possible.Andin the finest way possible.”
