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“Knock knock?” Someone says.
And we both freeze.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Hudson
Idon’t know whether to kill my fucking brother or quietly hand him some kind of award for stopping me doing something absolutely insane in my office.
“Don’t let me stop you, kids,” Ryder says cheerfully. “I’m not one to stop fun and games—”
“If you want to keep breathing, shut the fuck up,” I say pleasantly, something which I’m very far from feeling.
Scarlett’s head is buried against my shoulder and she’s gone stiff in my arms. At least my brother’s timing has killed both the mood and my boner, and I resolutely zip her pants up for her and smooth a hand over her hair.
I want to reassure her, which is a little surprising. I don’t tend to need to, and I didn’t think I’d ever want to do something like that, but she brings something out in me I’m not sure I’m a fan of.
And of course she needs a moment or two to get it together. That escalated fast and it hadn’t been on my agenda. On my mind, yes. The sex is that good with her. It’s the kind of sex where I want to spend a week naked with her and do all sorts of depraved things.
She gives me a little push and I release her and turn to face my brother, who’s craning his neck to see her. He’s such an idiot.
“We’re both dressed. I’ll buy you some porn for your birthday if you’re that hard up.”
“Does anyone buy porn these days?” Ryder asks, not upset at all.
I fold my arms. “I don’t know. I don’t have your problem.”
“I don’t have that particular problem, either.” Ryder suddenly grins as Scarlett steps out around me to my side.
I glance at her and she’s flushed red, and her hair is mussed. Lips swollen and— She looks exactly like what we’ve been doing. I probably don’t look any better, either.
Part of me wishes it had been Jenson who’d walked in and not my brother. But part of me, a bigger part, wishes no one had. I’m not ashamed to admit I’m more than interested in seeing which delicious way this would have gone.
“At least it’s Scarlett.”
She frowns. “Of course it’s me.” Then her eyes go big. “I didn’t mean. I mean, I did. I just—”
Scarlett goes quiet and I look at my brother. “Did you find anything more?”
“A lot.” He pulls a newspaper from under his arm. An actual newspaper. “You’re online, too. It’s not much. You’re not me, but because we’re related, here you are, larger than life. When I say larger, I mean in print.”
“I set it up. It’s small and you know it.” I tap my fingers against my desk as I ease back against it. This seems safer, putting a little distance between me and Scarlett, because I really want to touch her, comfort her.
Not that she needs comforting. Maybe the word is soothe. Or maybe I just want to fucking touch her.
I should have gone out and gotten laid before this all started. I should have gone and found a willing woman—and there were a lot—instead of touching Scarlett.
But none of them have hair that color of dark honey. Or that weird and quirky sense of humor. Or her ability to say the most outrageous thing.
And I bet none of them own what looks like a rat-bit old bear with the name of Mr. Figglesmort.
“You?” He shakes his head and glances at Scarlett. “What have you done to my brother?”
“He’s done it all himself. He’s like a martini—”
“You came here to gossip?” I ask, cutting her off.
But Ryder’s interest is piqued. “He’s a martini? What am I? Something outrageously seductive and naughty. I figure—”
