I turn to look at Sarah, who collapses against the seat, wiping her eyes. "You know about the neighbor?" I ask.
"His name is Mason. He's definitely not a serial killer," she says through laughter. "Olive likes him, so she's spiraling."
"I'm getting that."
"I met him. He's normal." Her lips curve into a sweet smile. "He's hot. It's making Olive crazy."
I narrow my eyes at her, then reach over to unlatch her belt.
"What are you doing?" she asks, her tone wary as I wrap my hands around her waist, hauling her over the console onto my lap.
"Putting you right here where I can reach you while you tell me that you think some other man is hot again, baby girl," I growl.
"I…I…" Her eyes widen.
"Go ahead," I rasp, my hands planted on her ass. "Say it now."
"Daddy," she whimpers.
"Say it."
"You're hot!" she squeaks. "Just you."
"That's what I thought you meant."
She falls forward on my lap, pressing her lips to mine with a needy moan. And just like that, I'm not thinking about Olive, Mason, or anything but getting inside her again.
Right here and now.
Chapter Ten
Jasper
Iknow Sarah is standing behind me long before she ever makes a sound. I feel her eyes on me as my feet keep pace on the treadmill, fighting for the last mile on a steep incline.
I don't turn around, determined to finish my run. I know damn well what'll happen if I see her standing there. I'll say fuck it, stop the treadmill, and fuck her instead of finishing my workout.
Keeping my hands to myself is a serious problem around her. Let's be clear, it's not one I have any intention of fixing. But it's a problem, especially since I have to let her leave every morning.
I'd rather tie her to my bed and see how many times I can make her come before she begs for mercy.
She's so sweet when she begs.
The last few days have been the best of my life. She's over here after work every night, letting me take care of her the way she deserves. I may be going overboard, but I don't really give a shit. I've got three years of being an idiot to make up for. I'm not stopping now.
I'm not ever stopping.
Olive has, mercifully, kept her promise. She isn't hounding Sarah or asking questions. She's giving her space and time. Although I'm not sure how much of that is my sister being patient and how much of it is because she's still convinced her new neighbor is a serial killer.
For the record, he isn't. I looked into him. He's a goddamn professor on sabbatical while he finishes his doctorate. But I'm not telling my sister that. Her obsession with him is keeping her out of my business. I'm not ruining a good thing.
Sarah whimpers behind me, and every good intention I have goes flying out the window. I slam the button to stop the treadmill, spinning around to face her.
Jesus. She was stunning in my bed this morning, her hair all wild from my hands, her lips still swollen from my kisses, my marks on her tits and her round belly. She's indecent in her little skirt and modest blouse, like an angel sent to tempt the devil.
Her bottomless blue eyes meet mine, and my dick stands at attention, pointing at her like a divining rod.
"Baby girl," I rumble, my gaze dropping from her face to her tits and then lower.
