Damn, this was supposed to be the better of the two options. I’m not sure that was the best choice. There’s something about seeing her covered in my clothes, knowing her firm, fulltits are pressed up against the same cloth that drapes against my own chest… it does shit to me.
Shit it probably shouldn’t.
My cock and brain struggle with that thought as I stare at her, unable to look away.
“Look,” I step toward her, my hands on the sides of her shoulders as I stare down in her direction, “I made a mistake bringing you here. You’re Benny’s little sister. I have to respect that. I’m sorry I crossed a line.”
My palm craves her bare skin, and before I know what I’m doing, I’ve tucked my hand beneath the fabric against her hip.
“You crossed a line?” She looks up at me with her brows narrowed as though she’s going to pretend nothing is happening between us. “How did you cross a line?”
I growl low, landing my opposite hand on her throat. “Don’t mess with me, trouble. You know I want you.”
“I know.” She swallows hard and stares up at me, blinking through thick lashes as though she’s a little doe eyed deer looking for direction. “I’m pretty easy to want.”
Fuck.
Without thought, my fingertips wander her hips and loop into the strap of her little cotton panties. The ones with the cute pink bow on the front.
My cock pulses again. “You’re hard to look away from.”
“So are you,” she whispers low.
I draw her closer, pressing her against my chest. At first, I think it’s because I want her closer, but I realize I’m also protecting us both. If she weren’t pressed against my chest, I’d have my tongue in her mouth, I’d be stripping this sweatshirt right back off, I’d have my hand tucked into her little panties, and I’d be thrusting inside of her until she was mine.
“You need food,” I groan in her ear. “Sit and eat.”
“Is this you bossing me again?” She blinks up in my direction, the intensity like nothing I’ve ever felt in my life.
“Are you ready to be honest about how much you love it when someone takes charge?”
She nods slowly. “Yes.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
This isn’t going to end well. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that. My cock won’t be able to take this for long. If I don’t get away from her or start giving in to some of the urges, this animal inside of me will lose control. I’m not responsible for the things he does. I can’t be. Not when he’s whispering things like,‘bend her over, take that tight little virgin pussy, make her scream, mark her up, let the whole fucking world know where she belongs.’The thoughts are sick and I refuse to claim them as my own. I’m not that barbaric. I’m civilized. I care. I want her for more than her body. I want her mind, her heart, her soft, little hand in mine.
“Sit down and eat,” I demand, pulling out her chair and handing her a glass of iced tea. “You haven’t eaten anything but pretzels all day.”
She sits at the head of the oak table I made last spring, her innocent face against the setting sun as the last bits of light filter in through the picture window overlooking the valley.
I flick on the radio and sit beside her, my chest tight, my stomach warm, the reality of what’s changing on the horizon.
It’s wrong. It’s fucked up. It’s going to change my relationship with Benny forever, but I want this woman, and there’s no way on Earth I’m not going to get her.
Chapter Five
Ivy
My nerves are on fire, humming beneath this massive sweatshirt that smells of pine and cedar, just like Ryker. There’s something so ruggedly masculine about this man. Something so primal. Something so intense that my body can’t help but respond.
I want him. No, Ineedhim.
“I don’t know what to do about the auction,” I say, taking a bite of garlic bread. It’s the frozen toasted kind, not the fresh, doughy kind the owner of the pizza shop lets me have at the end of the night, but it’s pretty good. “I promised someone something. I signed a contract. I think I have to show up.”
“No,” he grunts, twisting spaghetti onto his fork. “Forward me the link to whatever you signed. I’ll fix it for you.”
I laugh and narrow my brows as I shove in another bite of bread. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t think you can‘fix it’last minute like this. The guy is expecting me in an hour. I’m pretty sure I have to show up or I pay a penalty.”
