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The day couldn’t pass quickly enough, and finally, my last meeting was over. I waited impatiently for the car, almost pushing Aiden out of the way in my haste to open the door and clamor inside.He slid in, shutting the door. “Anxious, Bent?”I loosened my tie. “Just want to get home. Long day.”He leaned back with a grin. “Expecting an equally long night?”I lurched, punching his arm, dislodging the files sitting beside him. “Watch it.”He chuckled, and I bent to grab the papers that had fluttered to the floor. As I gathered them, a square, manila envelope, which looked oddly familiar, fell to the carpet.“What is that?” I asked.Aiden held out his hand, stopping me from touching it. He slipped a hand into his pocket, producing a latex glove.I cocked an eyebrow. “Planning on a murder spree on the way home, Aiden? Do you seriously carry one of those around with you?”He shot me a serious look. “You never know.”He picked up the envelope and studied it. It was the same type as the oth
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I waved my hand. “I told you not to worry about it. It’s one I bought and didn’t use. I’m glad it was something that helps you.”She regarded me suspiciously. She still wasn’t convinced by my explanation.“I hear you met Greg.”She smirked. “He introduced himself as Mr. Tomlin. He wasn’t exactly Mr. Warmth.”“No, he isn’t, but he’s good at what he does.”“You trust him?”It seemed an odd question, and I shrugged. “He’s never given me any reason not to. He does a good job on my behalf.”Her eyes dropped back to the laptop. “Good.”“Did he upset you?”She glanced up. “No. He was cool, and didn’t seem overly interested. Dismissive, I suppose.” She shivered. “He laughed when I said I was making you dinner. It seemed to amuse him. It was a peculiar sound.”I nodded in agreement. His laugh was a little strange, as if it were forced and not real.“He’s different. Don’t worry about him, though. You won’t see him very often. We don’t do the social thing.”“Okay.”I sighed. “Are you still angry
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I shifted, turning to face her, and tugged her closer. Our eyes locked, hers widening as she felt the intensity of my gaze and the way the air around us shifted. I stared at her as I lifted the glass and filled my mouth with the amber liquid. I pressed my lips to hers, smiling as she opened for me, allowing the warm liquid to pass into her mouth. She swallowed deeply, a groan low in her throat as I pressed my tongue to hers, savoring the taste of the brandy mixed with her flavor. She slipped her hands up my shoulders, her fingers moving restlessly on the nape of my neck, playing with my hair, making me shiver. Her touch was gentle and light. It always stirred such emotion in me. I deepened the kiss, holding her tight and devouring her mouth. She whimpered, the sound muffled and needy.In seconds, she was under me on the sofa. I pushed away her sweater and yanked down her yoga pants, covering her with my body. She tore off my towel, and our bare skin slid together, warming us both.She
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EmmyBentley shifted, muttering something as he moved. His arm tightened around me reflexively, then loosened as he drifted back into sleep. Early dawn spilled through the glass, and I could study his face in the wan light. Relaxed, without the serious countenance that people saw him wear, he looked younger and oddly vulnerable. His light brown hair, without the product to tame it, was wavy and fell over his forehead. I liked how it looked on him. The stubble was thick on his chin, and I knew I would find evidence of his passion on my skin. Slight red blemishes his rough beard left behind. He allowed the scruff because I liked it, even though I knew he preferred to be clean-shaven. He did so many things to please me, but he couldn’t see how wonderful he was.I inhaled, content and lazy, yet not sleepy. The bed smelled like Bentley, like me, like us. There was the faint aroma of brandy and sex, making the scent unique and heady.Unlike his serious, stiff persona he showed to the world,
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He was all that mattered.Breaking out of my memories, I glanced at the clock and sat up, stretching. Bentley groaned, opening his eyes.“What are you doing?”“I have to go. I’m meeting Cami to study.”“Why didn’t you have her come here?”I chuckled as I slid from the bed, escaping his attempts to stop me. “Because she’ll want to use the pool, watch a movie, and bake cookies in your ridiculously impressive kitchen. We’ll get nothing accomplished, and I want it done. I have a ton of other projects I have to do, as well. I’m meeting her at Al’s, and when we’re finished, I’m already at my place.”He followed me to the bathroom and crowded me in the shower. “I don’t want you to go. I like it when you’re here.” He trailed his hand down my arm and clasped my fingers. “You could stay, Emmy.”I gazed up at his serious face. He’d been dropping not so subtle hints the entire time I had been there. I had a passcode, a key, and he constantly referred to his house as our home. Still, it was too so
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“Bentley says he is the most mature of them all. That he always has been. He’s also the most private and intense.”She snorted. “There’s the pot calling the kettle black. Mr. Rigid himself.”“I think he means he is old beyond his years.”She pulled out her laptop. “Well, I like him, and I think he’s good for her. She smiles more.”“I guess time will tell.”She nodded. “For all of us.”“Who knew all this would happen the day Bentley tripped over my rucksack and told me off?”“I know. Your millionaire is pretty awesome.”I scowled. “He’s more than a millionaire.”“I know that. I was only teasing.”“He’s so much more than his money.”“He is with you.” She sighed. “The way he came to me and asked for a dress for you. He was so”—she waved her hand—“earnest and worried. He wanted you to feel pretty, but not overwhelmed. He wanted to make you happy.”“He did. He does—all the time.” I glanced to the side. “Except for the escorts.”“At least they aren’t obvious.”“No,” I agreed. “They stay in
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“It’s my kitchen.”“You’re acting like a child.”I knew I was. I was acting like an asshole. The truth was, I liked it when she made tacos. In fact, I liked everything she made. Tonight, nothing was going to be right. Not even, it seemed, Emmy.I stormed out of the kitchen. “I need a fucking drink.”I grabbed the decanter of scotch and poured a healthy shot. I downed it in one swallow, the liquor burning its way down my throat and into my chest. I refilled the glass and stomped upstairs to my room, pulling off my suit. I swallowed some more of the liquor and stepped into the shower. The sting of the water on my knee made me hiss and looking down I saw a gash from where I fell.I was going to burn that piece of shit rucksack when I got hold of it.I turned on all the jets and closed my eyes as the hot water poured over me. The steam billowed around me, and the heat worked its magic on my stiff muscles. Bracing myself on the wall, I huffed a deep sigh and let the water rain down. I had
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I was confused. “Isn’t he alive?”She shrugged. “I think so. I have no idea.”“I don’t understand.”“I didn’t have a normal childhood. My parents were, for lack of a better term, gypsies. They hated to stay in one place. My grandmother stayed with us since they were always off on some adventure.”“She’s the one who taught you to make scones?”A glimmer of a smile tugged at her lips. “Yes. She was the one constant I knew.” Emmy’s smile faded. “She died when I was young.”“I’m sorry.”She pulled out a tattered book from her rucksack. “This was hers.”I took the handmade cookbook and looked at the pages covered in writing, notes and sketches. I glanced up, nodding at her to keep talking.“After she died, my parents were forced to stay home more. I was ten, and Jack was fifteen. For the next two years, they were miserable. To this day, I don’t know why they had kids. They were lousy parents, and more concerned with what quest they were missing out on than how their actions affected us. Th
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