She feels as terrible as I do about what we’ve done behind Emma’s back.
But as I leave the guest room and walk through the dark house, it’s impossible to ignore the voice in the back of my head that grows louder with every step.
Mine.
Mine.
Fuckingmine.
The next morning, I leave before Emma and Shea are awake.
I spend a couple of hours at the office delegating tasks and setting appointments for remodeling estimates. Business is booming and that’s a great thing. It took me years to build myreputation in this county, and the hard work is paying off in spades.
Once I leave the office, I make stops at various job sites, pick up building materials and deliver them to one of our bigger remodels. By the time I’m able to stop by Emma and Shea’s apartment to survey the leak damage, it’s damn near four o’clock.
Letting myself into their place, I whistle under my breath at the caved in ceiling, a tremor going through my limbs at the thought of either girl being underneath it when the water broke through. Shit could have been a lot worse—but the damage is extensive.
My boots crunch through plaster and debris as I walk through the apartment, front to back, making mental notes about which crew members will be assigned to the job, based on their specialties. Supply cost. Time frame. I’m assuming Emma and Shea want to be back in their place as soon as possible.
And I want that, too, right?
I close my eyes and think of Shea underneath me, whimpering and scratching at my back while my body moves inside of her. Taking my beating and loving it. God, she’s so tight and slippery between her legs, she should come with a warning label. I’m functioning as needed this morning, but memories of her body, her voice, her scent…they stalk me—
The sound of sobbing stops me in my tracks.
Someone is in the apartment.
Crying.
Who?
I advance farther down the hallway, following the sound of hiccupping. At the end of the hall, there’s a bedroom door on the right and I push it open to find Shea staring into her closet, tears rolling down her cheeks. And it’s easy to see why. There is a hole torn in the ceiling of her closet and all her clothes have beenblackened by dirty water. Textbooks have been waterlogged. Photo albums destroyed.
Her phone dings to signal a text and she looks down, reading the message, her sobs renewing themselves a second later.
“Shea,” I say, entering the room, my stomach tightening when those wide, gorgeous eyes fly toward me, more tears tracking down her cheeks. Oh, I don’t like to see her sad. Uh-uh. Not at all. “Don’t worry, I’m going to fix everything, angel. I’ll have you back in here in a week, tops. It’ll be good as new.”
Shea nods bravely, but her bottom lip is wobbling. “I know.” She looks down at her phone again. “It’s just that a lot of my things will have to be replaced and…”
When she trails off and doesn’t continue, I take a few steps closer until I can tilt her chin up with my fingers. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the lavender thong she told me about last night. It’s sitting on the floor by the foot of the bed. It’s even briefer than I imagined, and that little white bow on the ass…goddamn, it stirs me right up. So provocative and innocent at the same time.
Focus.
“A lot of your things will need to be placed and what?”
She presses her lips into a line. “Nothing.”
I take firmer hold of her chin. “Shea.”
My authoritative tone causes her pupils to expand.
My blood hums in response. Heats.
“My dad is a little financially strapped at the moment. My mom is between jobs, too. Funds are tight.” That lush bottom lip wobbles again, drawing my gaze. “He’s going to have to sell his favorite guitar to send me the extra money. I feel terrible.”
“Shhh, angel. Come here.” I pull her into my arms and she collapses there, her cheek buried in my chest. I stroke my palm down the back of her hair, massage the nape of her neck with my thumb. She sighs, some of the tension leaving her smallframe. Gradually, she presses in tighter, lifting onto her tip toes and circling her arms around the back of my neck, her tits dragging up my chest, her hips shifting next to mine, causing an involuntary reaction in my briefs. My balls weigh down, the heavy stalk of my sex lifting. Swelling at her nearness.
A warning bell goes off in my head. I’m crossing the line.
