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God, I’m basically assaulting him.
Without looking up like the coward I am, I blurt out, “Shower.”
He instantly releases my hand.
“Can I borrow a towel?”
“Aye.”
I chance a glance at him and his smoldering eyes.
Swallowing has become difficult. I squirm because my clit is a swollen bud of nerves that demands release carefully and quietly in the shower with Lachlan none the wiser. I am a breath away from tearing off my clothes and having the image of us in my head play out. I wet my lips.
“Jesus,” he whispers, his pheromones flooding the room and mixing with mine. The walls are about to spontaneously combust. The air is so charged I can feel blue bolts of electricity bounding between us.
He releases my hand and stalks to the bathroom, returning a few seconds later with the same smoldering eyes, stopping a few inches away.
I drink him in, letting him flood my bloodstream. My blood is liquid honey.
“Do you need anything?”
Yes, you.
He cups my chin with his hand and stares at my lips.
I shake my head because I can’t speak. I can barely hear him over the thumping of my heart and the rush of blood to my aching pussy. I’ll never get to sleep tonight being this turned on, being separated from him by a thin wall, knowing he’s probably naked on the couch, with his rock-hard cock, possibly stroking it. I internally moan and wilt.
The storm in his eyes intensifies, as does the wildfire in me. I murmur my thanks and head toward his bathroom, shut the door, and slump against the sink.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I strip off my clothes and turn on the shower.
There’s only one thing to help me out tonight. I reach for my handbag.
Chapter Ten
LACHLAN
The water turns on, and there’s an incredibly sexy, gorgeous woman naked in my shower.
Fuck.
God, that’s all I want to do. Fuck her. Hard, deep, messy, gentle. Round after beautiful round.
I groan and adjust my jeans. I could snap off my cock and hammer nails it’s so hard. I sink onto the couch, my bed for the night, my head in my hands. What the fuck just happened? Ten minutes with a gorgeous stranger and I’m baring my worthless soul to her. Talking about my need to fix things. I recited my poetry to her. I don’t quote my poetry to anyone. I don’t talk about helping the neighbors. I’m the odd brother, the fixer, the one who hides away, and I do. I know what people say about me. I’m not take-on-the-fucking-world Knox, nor am I laid back, I-don’t-give-a-fuck-about-anything Finn. I’m just me. Happy in my own skin. I like my company and don’t crave conversation, which makes the whole time spent with Georgia even more unfathomable.
The even weirder thing? When her big brown eyes looked at me, she looked at me. Like she could reach in and read my soul. Flick through the pages and keep my secrets safe. I stare at the rug I exchanged for helping Mrs. Flanagan paint her kitchen the color of avocado green. Couldn’t look at guacamole for weeks. I didn’t want the carpet, but I’m not that insensitive and a refusal would snub her pride. Even the image of ninety-year-old Eunice Flanagan standing in granny panties and a droopy bra is doing nothing for my cock after seeing Georgia Henry with her hand on my abs, her killer scent pouring off her. Her bottom lip snagged by her teeth. Her eyes burning with need. I’ve never been confident with women or been able to read them, but I’m pretty damn sure the beauty behind my bathroom door, naked and wet, wanted me.
And holy fuck, I want her.
My muscles twitch, and I fight the need to sprint out the door and pound around the block until my cock is soft, and my mind is free, but I won’t leave her unguarded and alone, so I pace, damn near drilling a hole in the rug.
If I had to Freud myself, I’d say my parents abandoning us, me, left a huge gap in my life. I don’t remember a lot after they left. God knows how many times Knox and Finn found me at bus stops, having no idea where I was going, but I knew if I looked hard enough I’d find them. I had it in my head that they were lost, and couldn’t find their way back to us, to me. I remember shouting when I was younger, but it was never directed at me. Knox has never said a bad thing about them in front of me, but his eyes darken, and his jaw ticks. Finn never speaks about them. It’s as if they don’t exist, and he was beamed in from the planet Blurk–his words, not mine.
Knox let me have a month of trying to find my parents. He then sat me down and explained that our parents had gone and weren’t returning. He did his best, and I know that now, but back then at twelve I found it hard to accept they would abandon us. Knox made sure I went to school; if I skipped, he reamed me a new one. He gave up his life so I could have one. I’d do anything for him and Finn, and they know it.
A loud thump on my door catches me by surprise.
