Page 41 of Pretend it’s Forever

There was something in those eyes that spoke to me, that scared the fuck out of me. So I took her mouth, knowing it would be better if we both ignored it.

We rolled so she was on top for a moment, but as her body bowed in on itself, shaking, I moved again so I was on top, taking her with every ounce of dedication and control that I had.

And then when she came, surprising both of us, I followed, burying my face against her neck, nearly saying words that would make no sense to me later. She clung to me, as I did the same to her, finally coming, filling the condom as she shook in my arms.

This was a problem. I knew it.

But soon I would walk away, all would be well, and nothing would change.

I kissed her lips and leaned back. “Let me clean you up, and then get you some water.”

I couldn’t breathe and I needed to find the space to think. Because everything that I had stood upon previously had been rocked to its core, and I didn’t know what to do. As I slid out of her, we both groaned. I could barely stand, but once again, I told myself this was the only time for a reason.

I took care of the condom, then slid on my pants without buttoning them. I took a warm towel and cleaned Sophia as I tucked her in bed, and I knew it would take her a moment or two to come out of whatever haze she lay in.

Needing a moment to breathe myself, I walked into the kitchen.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

I whirled, the glass falling from my hands, as I looked up to see Flynn and James standing in Sophia’s kitchen, murder on their faces.

Well, hell.

Chapter Eight

CARSON

“What the fuck?” Flynn snarled, and then he was on me, his forearm pressed against my neck, my back against the wall near the refrigerator. The only reason it had even gotten to this point, was that I let him. Flynn deserved the first punch, maybe the second. After all, if I had walked into my sister’s house and seen my so-called friend with Cora, I’d have an issue.

Then again, Cora always made better decisions than I did.

“I let you have that one, but that’s it,” I said softly, grateful that I could even breathe with the pressure at my neck. I had taught Flynn well, after all.

“Ease up, Flynn,” James warned as he moved forward and put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. He still glared at me, however. I was not out of the doghouse. Not that I deserved it. I had just slept with their sister, and now stood in nothing but my pants, still smelling of sex, while in her kitchen.

“I can’t believe you fucking touched her. My sister.”

James pulled his brother back, a scowl on his face. “Flynn. Stop. We’re going to wake the girls. That’s why we walked in without ringing the doorbell to begin with.”

Flynn moved closer again, the snarl on his face deepening.

“Flynn? James? What are you guys doing here? Oh my God. Get off Carson. What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sophia came in then and pushed herself between Flynn and me. She lifted her chin, not a single ounce of fear in her body, and I cursed. With one movement, I twisted Flynn’s wrist not to give pain, but so he would move back, and gently pushed Sophia to the side.

“Don’t put yourself in between us,” I ordered.

“Don’t tell my sister what to do,” Flynn snapped.

“Sophia? What’s going on?” James asked.

I looked between the three of them and held back a curse. What the hell had I been thinking? No, I hadn’t been thinking. That was the problem.

Here I stood in Sophia’s homey kitchen, with her large island and deep green lower cabinets with lighter glass cabinets above, and felt as if I had never been more out of place.

I knew I shouldn’t have touched Sophia. Hell, I had told myself repeatedly that I should walk away.

But over a year ago, I had seen her and had wanted to hold her. I’d wanted so much more. All because I saw the fire in her, and that connection had clicked in an instant. It shouldn’t matter though, because when it came to Sophia Cage, I was not the right person for her. And yet here I was, taking what I wanted because I was just as much of a fucking asshole as everyone had always accused me of being.

The moment that I wanted something I took it. I had either worked hard for it, or called it my own by right.