“I will.” Her voice trembled.
Another lie. Sasha was convinced that every favor he granted her came with a sexual price. If she could afford to, she’d walk away from him right now, never look back. The sooner they found Mike’s evidence and unleashed it on his killer, the better for both of them.
He just hoped that breakthrough came before his relentless desire for this woman crushed his self-control.
Chapter Four
Harder than ever, Nick woke to sun streaming through the blinds, rays slanting across his half-empty king-size bed. The morning would have been a whole lot better if Sasha Porter had been naked, soft, and sated beside him.
With a sigh, he glanced at the clock. Shit. Twenty past eight in the morning.
Hopping into a pair of sweatpants he’d discarded at the foot of the bed, he rushed down the hall to the first of the spare bedrooms. Why the hell the Santiago brothers had rented him a huge house rather than just a crappy apartment near his old stomping grounds, he had no idea. He’d bet their wife London had a hand in it. He had a soft spot for the woman who had helped to save his friends from self-destruction. He’d bet she had one for him for roughly the same reason.
The vague smile widened when he peeked into the guest room and found Sasha wrapped up with Harper in one twin bed, sound asleep. A nearly empty bottle of children’s Tylenol rested on the nightstand. Unfortunately, neither looked as if sleep had helped much. Nick felt guilty that he hadn’t realized Sasha might need a hand with her daughter. Hell, he had no experience with kids.
Turning, he headed back to his room and walked into the enormous en suite shower. Warm water pelted him, unwinding muscles tense from aching for Sasha half the night.
He breathed in the steam, tried to clear his head. But no. Despite being stupid and masochistic, he fantasized about touching Sasha under the spray, petting her until she clung to him, fucking her until she screamed his name in climax. Since that wasn’t happening, he soaped up with a bar of Irish Spring, choosing not to punch his express ticket to self-pleasure. He knew from experience that the orgasm would be hollow and the satisfaction short-lived. His desire for Sasha would only come roaring back with a vengeance.
After a perfunctory washing, he cut the water, dried off, and donned a pair of faded jeans. His black T-shirt had a cartoon depicting terrified people fleeing a hulking figure pursuing from behind. The caption beneath read Zombies Hate Fast Food.
After fingercombing his hair, he headed for the kitchen. As he reached the end of the hall, the doorbell rang. A glance out the window at the sleek Infiniti SUV told him exactly who stood on the other side of the door.
With a wry shake of his head, he opened up to find a curvy blonde carrying a swaddled, sleeping infant flanked by two tall men in nearly identical suits.
“Where is she?” London asked before Nick could say a word, her sweet face curious as she tried to peek around him.
“You forgot to say hello, belleza.” Xander Santiago’s smile revealed how much he adored his wife.
His older brother, Javier, didn’t look any less smitten. “She’s been pacing since she took Dulce out of her crib at six. You’re lucky we got her to wait this long before we descended.”
Repressing a smile, Nick opened the door wide and directed everyone to the kitchen. “Sasha and Harper are still asleep. Coffee?”
London rushed in and gave him a loose hug around the neck. “Which I assume you want me to make?”
“Please,” Xander all but begged. “Nick makes terrible coffee.”
“It’s a single-cup brewer, asshole,” Nick shot back. “Foolproof.”
“And yet you fucked it up yesterday morning.”
Javier barked out a laugh as he carried in a couple of sacks of groceries. “You’re both helpless.” He plucked their seven-month-old out of London’s arms, kissed her downy little head, and turned to Xander. “Hold Dulce.”
He disappeared into the kitchen with London, tucking items into the refrigerator or pantry as London directed. Nick lingered with Xander in the adjoining dining room. Seeing the former manwhore holding a baby in a frilly dress was so jarring, it was almost comical.
“Bought a baseball bat to fight off the boys yet?” he asked Xander. With her daddies’ dark hair and her mother’s bright blue eyes, Dulce would be a beauty.
“Screw a stick of wood. I own half a company that makes the most high-tech military equipment in the world, and I’m not afraid to use any weapon at my disposal. None of those adolescent pricks will ever touch my daughter.”
Spoken like an overprotective father. “What about when her teenage hormones kick in? She might want?—”
“If you’d like our help, shut your fucking mouth.”
Nick laughed. Yanking Xander’s chain had always been fun, but now it was a downright blast. “Shutting it now.”
“Good man.” Xander glanced across the kitchen to see Javier pulling London close before he dipped his head to cover their wife’s mouth. Nick had seen them kiss before. Usually, they oozed passion; they still did. Both brothers had always looked at her as if she was their moon, sun, and stars. Their very happiness, in fact. But it was different now that they’d had a child. More reverent. More devoted. More sacred. They were a family in every sense.
Nick tore his glance away. He’d never have what they had with any woman, especially not with Sasha. He shoved aside the unwelcome stab of envy.
