“Don’t tell Matt?” Riley shouted. “Are fuckin’ kidding me, E? You’re hereone dayand you’re starting shit like this? No, no. No one is telling Matt a fucking thing aboutanyof this.” He gestured to both his sisters, and this time, I didn’t miss the fire in his eyes. “We’re all pretending none of this happened. We’re pretending there’s no attention-whoring or hate-fucking going on right now.”
“I think you might be exaggerating the situation, buddy,” Nick said. “Really, we’re just having some drinks and hanging out.”
Somewhere between the blowjob that made me hear colors and laying Riley out, we must have fallen into an alternate, cock-blocking reality. It was like every one of these assholes knew I was half-desperate to be inside Shannon again, and they were inventing obstacles in my path.
“You might be a smart guy, Nick,” Riley said, “but right now, you have no idea what you’re talking about. And you—” He pointed at Erin. “If you don’t want shit storms everywhere you go, don’t stir them up.”
I watched Riley’s fingers curling into fists, unclenching, and repeating the motion. I had no idea who he wanted to pummel more—me, the doctor, or his sisters—but I wasn’t letting that shit go down tonight. I stepped in front of Shannon, forcing some distance between her and whatever the hell was going on with these people.
Alternate. Fucking. Reality.
“Riley,” Erin said, and his gaze snapped to her. “I got this.”
“You fucking owe me,” Riley called as he walked past Nick and Erin, his head shaking and his hands fisted at his sides. “Allof you fucking owe me.”
Riley disappeared into the night, and that seemed like the perfect opportunity to stop watching the doctor and the quiet sister get it on. Shannon didn’t object when I led her back inside, and she didn’t even roll her eyes when I checked all the locks. She just stood in the center of the room, her arms wrapped around her, gazing into the darkness.
She was thinking hard, if the frantic fingers tapping against her elbow were any indication. The doctor—the one who had his arm around Shannon only a matter of hours ago—had something to do with this, but the sister was most of it. Erin might be the quiet one, but she was the troublemaker.
I pointed to the robe. “Off.”
She continued staring for a moment, her fingers never quite stilling, then shrugged out of the fabric that I was torn between loving and hating.
The robe dropped to the floor but she didn’t meet my eyes. I gestured to the mattress. “Bed.”
She slipped between the sheets at my command, rolling to her side and curling her arms around the pillow. Her body was tight, coiled, and I saw it all vibrating through her. At once, she was tired and tense, and those merged into a vulnerability I couldn’t ignore. Shannon was so much—loud and nosy, spoiled and bossy—but she was so much more, too. If I watched her all night and through the rest of this weekend, I wouldn’t be able to categorize it all.
Instead, I spanked her until she begged for my cock.
*
“Doesn’t Kaisall havea house in the Hamptons now?”
I glanced over at Wes from where I was marooned on the shore. The North Atlantic in May wasn’t toasty warm, and after years away from salt water, I was reminded how hard it was to swim against ocean currents.
Oh, and I’d spent the past two nights fucking and fighting with Shannon.
“He does,” I said. “Why?”
“Let’s catch a ferry over to Montauk,” he said. “There’s good surfing out there, and I want to hear about the firm he’s running these days.”
Jordan Kaisall was a good SEAL but a better businessman. He pulled one deployment, during which he took a bullet through the kneecap when a mission went tits-up, and went on to open a private security firm. He was a good friend and he never stopped recruiting me to help run the tactical side of his operation. His protection details ranged from Washington insiders and CEOs to the occasional heiress or celebrity.
“Yeah, I’ll give him a call,” I said, feeling my heart rate gradually edging into normal territory.
Getting the fuck away from Cape Cod and mouthy redheads with delicious thighs was probably for the best. That, and the mouthy redhead in question was leaving for Boston this afternoon.
She’d yanked the blankets off sometime before dawn, and tossed my trousers at me. “You’re leaving now,” she announced.
Her hair was wild, her lips kiss-swollen, and her expression told me there was only a slim chance that she’d let my cock change her mind.
“Here I thought check out wasn’t until noon,” I said.
“And I thought you’d be a grower, not a shower,” she said. “Guess we were both wrong.”
“Hmm,” I murmured, scratching my chin while I stared at her. “You need me to tie you to the headboard again, don’t you? Maybe a good, hard fuck to start the day? We can bend that bratty attitude of yours into shape.”
Shannon murmured to herself, a small smile lifting her lips, and she narrowed her eyes in my direction. “That’s a charming offer,” she said, “but I don’t think your dick can reach myattitude, let alone bend it. I’m also leaving for Boston soon, and I’d like you to get the fuck out of my cottage.”
