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She listened to his podcast? Unable to hold back, he caught her mouth with his before directing her to face forward again.
Holding her tight, he thrust between her thighs. Lush and smooth, slick with her heat, she held him so snugly he groaned. Clutching at his hips for balance, she squeezed her legs as he pressed in, withdrew. Good, but not enough. Not nearly enough.
She dug her nails into his ass as he set the pace, working himself through her plush, silky thighs until he couldn’t take it anymore, need throbbing at the base of his spine. Gritting his teeth, he pulled free, levered over her and took himself in hand—a few rough strokes and he spilled over her. Marked her, as though she were his to keep.
His knees buckled and he collapsed against her, bracing his hand against the wall so he didn’t crush her.
When his breathing steadied, he stepped back. “Wait.”
Reaching for his sweats, he used them to wipe himself from her before letting them fall at his feet.
On a ragged breath, she turned around, her pupils wide in her flushed face, her body trembling.
“Come here.” He dragged his lips across her cheek. “Your turn.”
Unable to bear her seeing him even through the shadows, he pushed her face into his chest, his hand working its way between them. She relaxed against him, so trusting in his arms. He let her whimpers and moans guide him, her need spilling over his fingers, until she came with a sweet cry. Even after her shivers subsided, he held her there, refusing to let either one remember how much he’d changed.
Fuck. What the hell had he done? He didn’t know her. Couldn’t trust her. She’d just been outside in the middle of the night—he’d heard a car drive away—and instead of questioning her, he’d stripped her? What was he thinking?
His hands shook as he set her aside.
“Oliver?” Confusion swirled in her heavy-lidded eyes. “Are you okay?”
The heat surging through him roared, demanding more of her. He sank to the bench in the foyer. “What did we do?”
The pulse beat brightly in her throat. “I think it’s obvious.”
“The only thing obvious to me is that you’re here because you need information.”
Her hands flew to her hips. “But that’s not why—Screw you. I might be here for information, but I wouldn’t fuck you for it.”
“Yarrows fuck people for a whole lot less.”
His breath caught at how beautiful she was, shooting daggers sharp enough to cut. She snatched her pajamas from the floor.
He wasn’t about to let her get away with it—with lying, pretending like he was wrong. “Who funded your brother’s disappearance?”
She held the pajamas to her chest like it would do anything to hide her nakedness. Her entire body flamed red. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t play dumb.”
“Who—how—”
“I know you gave your brother the money to skip town.”
“That’s not true! I didn’t.”
Ah. More lies.
“We both know that you did.”
“I didn’t give him money to skip town!”
He waited for her to own up. Did accountability not exist in her family?
Finally, she sighed, her hold on her clothes loosening. “I didn’t give him any money, Oliver. But he did take my money. Somehow, he managed to log into my bank account and wired himself the maximum daily amount for my bank, which is fifty thousand dollars, before he disappeared.”
He hadn’t known that, but he wasn’t surprised. Yarrow stole. That’s what he did. Apparently, even from his sister. The sister who failed to hold him accountable.
