Authors: Sosie Frost
Her finger went up. Fortunately, it was her index and not the middle.
“Oh.
Hell
. No.”
Now the finger wagged. A starting gun shot somewhere, and we were
off
.
And I deserved it. That’s why I hadn’t asked for her number after she writhed in my sheets. We were going to meet up sooner rather than later. I only hoped I’d have enough time to grab some of my old gear. A Kevlar vest maybe. A pair a handcuffs if she lunged…or if she forgave me.
“This isn’t happening.” Shay didn’t let me speak. “You aren’t serious.”
The attorney panicked, knotting his fingers together.
“Uh, son, do you know each other?”
In every way imaginable. I dodged the question.
“Yes, sir. We ran into each other a few nights ago.”
And I hadn’t been able to get it out of my head since. At least it was something good to remember when Shay inevitably jumped me and succeeded where eight ISIS agents failed. I took a seat across from the attorney and hoped some form of the legal system would protect me from bleeding all over the office.
To her credit, Shay was just as beautiful angry as she was naked, trembling, and completely exposed to me. And
that
was a hard look to beat.
She acted tough, but she was a quart of trouble squeezed into a pint-sized carton. The skirt, the glasses, the low barrette in her hair pinning back the luxurious ebony locks. I didn’t know if I wanted the vixen or the princess, but damn if they didn’t mesh into the perfect woman.
…A very pissed off woman, as she had every right to be.
But I wasn’t going to stress about our night together. My biggest regret was blowing the chance to re-live the most erotic sex of my life. Shay was a one-of-a-kind woman, even if she was, technically, my
step-sister
. You just didn’t get that kind of kink anywhere. That was a special brand of off-the-shelf, bargain-bin, sell-it-out-of-the-trunk-of-a-1980-Pontiac-in-a-flea-market-parking-lot kink.
“I can’t believe this,” Shay said. “This has to be some sort of joke.”
William nervously laughed. “What a small world, huh?”
I smirked. “Small isn’t the word Shay would use.”
“This is ridiculous.” Shay stared at William. “There has to be some kind of mistake.”
“No…” William shrugged. “Zachary Harden is the son of Emily Brewer, your father’s wife. He is your step-brother, and he’s named in your father’s will.”
I shrugged. “I can show you ID, but I’d think you’d recognize me by now.”
Even with clothes on.
Shay wasn’t amused.
I shouldn’t have been so confrontational, but damn she was pretty when angry. I knew it was wrong, especially since she was my step-sister, but after Shay left, I jerked off in the shower to the memory of her clenching around me. Three days passed and I could still feel her lips over my cock, imagine her warmth surrounding me, and still smell the tease of apple and pomegranate on my pillow.
It was the wrong kind of fantasy to have, made worse by the current situation.
I was now an incredibly rich man.
And I had to face an irate woman demanding a metric shit-ton of explanations.
She’d be lucky if I could even answer. Just getting to the attorney’s office was a trip and a half. For the past week, Georgia flooded with rain. Suddenly, we had nothing but clear skies and an obscenely bright sun determined to burn through my retinas and set my goddamned head on fire. The migraine this morning nearly kept me in bed, but a billion dollars got me into the shower.
The money opened the world to me—even if I wanted to travel to the places other people wouldn’t dare. Iraq. Afghanistan. Iran. Syria.
Those
where the countries where I was supposed to be, fighting and protecting. I didn’t belong in some bumbling attorney’s office in the middle of Atlanta. I had my fill of sweet-tea, it was time to get my ass back into the service.
Though…some things they only made good in the south.
Shrimp and grits. Pecan pie. Shay Franklin.
She was definitely my favorite meal. My favorite entertainment. My favorite night life. If she could be wrapped up in a care package and sent overseas, my morale—and other things—would definitely rise.
“Shall we…uh, discuss the situation?” William asked. He offered Shay a chair that would probably get slammed over my head.
“We have
nothing
to discuss,” she said.
William’s nervous chuckle cracked under her stare. “Not so. There are quite a few pieces of property which will transfer to both your names, including your father’s newly purchased estate.” William dropped two house keys on his desk. “It might get pretty complicated.”
“No, it’s not complicated.” A single curl of Shay’s hair loosened from her tie. It bobbed in front of her face, just waiting for me to tuck it behind her ear. “He’s not getting a goddamned dime. And that’s the end of it.”
“Shay, this is a legal matter.”
“No, this is a
family
matter.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “But we are family now.”
“Don’t start.” Her eyes widened.
Now
she realized how badly we fucked up by spending the night together. “We are
not
family. You’re just an arrogant asshole who thinks he struck it rich. I’m going to make sure you don’t get one cent of my father’s money.”
I don’t know why I did it, but rolling over an IED nearly a year ago gave me some confidence. “
Our
father’s money.”
Shay reached for her purse, either to beat me or storm out of the office. William leapt up, preventing her from leaving. He clapped his hands together.
“I’ll get us some coffee. Really, now, this
should
be a time of celebration. Both of you have suffered a loss, but you’re inheriting a life-changing amount of money. This might be the best thing that’s ever happened to you two. Especially since you
are
family. Neither of you are alone anymore.”
“I don’t want his type of company,” Shay said.
I grinned. “I thought we had a nice time together.”
“Next time I’ll drown in my drink.”
“Wouldn’t have been nearly as fun.”
William faked a smile. “That’s the spirit. I’ll get us some coffee and let you two hash this out before we discuss the will.”
I nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
The door closed. I expected Shay to launch at my neck. She didn’t. Instead, she stung me with a scowl that shamed me so much my mother would have blushed…if she weren’t dead. Though, hell, even when she was alive she botox’d her cheeks beyond human expression. Between the fake tits and whatever the hell she injected in her ass, my mom seduced Darnell Franklin and finally secured a man’s fortune for herself just before the end.
But she did it. She married him, got the money for all the summer homes and prescription drugs she wanted, then died before they built the second home in the Hamptons. Everything passed to me. Shay had every right to be pissed.
I’d still take the money. I needed something to change my luck. This was it.
Shay said nothing. It was better than cursing me out, though I knew she could deliver every profanity she promised. I remembered her sweet and sultry words, teased from a tongue that had no business feeling as good as it did on my cock.
I shouldn’t have gotten hard again, but even angry, she was the sexiest woman I ever saw.
“You…” She gritted her teeth. “You are going to move your ass outta here. By the time you get to your car? You’ll forget everything that
my
family’s attorney said. This.” She waved around the office. “Is none of your concern.”
“I know you’re mad.”
“Mad? No. Na-uh. I’m not mad.” She pointed me toward the door. “If I was mad, that’d mean I’ve give one goddamned fuck about you.”
“Last time we were together you gave quite a few fucks about me.”
“Are you serious?” Shay edged closer to me. “You think you get to smile and flirt and then take
my
father’s money and skip out of here?”
She couldn’t intimidate a swatting kitten, but I wasn’t going to give her leverage over me. I stood, and my bulk towered over her.
I couldn’t train while I was in the hospital, and my physical therapy didn’t include a trip to the weight room. But after I recuperated, I didn’t just get back in the saddle. I tamed a new horse and bought the fucking ranch. I trained better, worked harder, and it showed. My strength wasn’t for bragging rights. It saved my ass in the middle of Tikrit. And now I was bigger and badder than ever.
Shay Franklin didn’t scare me, but she’d bring me to my knees for another reason.
“What’s wrong, sis?” I asked. “We’re family now. Cut me a break.”
She hesitated, and I saw the wheels turning. She wondered if she could get away with saying something insulting. Her relationship with her father was no mystery, but I said nothing about my mother during our night together. She left the dead relatives out of our fight.
“So…are you just some big pervert then?” She asked.
“Pervert?”
“We had…” Shay covered her eyes. “Sweet Jesus, we might have committed a felony. I don’t even know if what we did was legal. You’re really sick, you know that?”
“No, I’m not.”
“We slept together.”
Best night of my life. “Yeah, so?”
“
So
?” Her voice shrilled. She clenched her fists. “Did you
know
?”
“Know what?”
Her kissable lips pouted. She had no idea how sexy she was, even when poised to attack.
“Did you know that our parents got
married
?” She didn’t let me answer. “Did you know I was your
step-sister
? Was this just some sick, twisted game?”
“It’s not a game.”
“Great. I’m a fetish then. You son of a bitch. You should come with a warning.” She drew an imaginary square around my face. “You could be the poster child for the sexual predator list.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I held my hands up. “I’m no predator.”
“Then what was the other night? You
deliberately
found me. Don’t tell me I was some random notch on your bedpost.”
I chuckled. “Baby, you
broke
my bedpost.”
“Screw. You.”
And she was off again. I stepped in front of her before she made it to the door, careful to keep my namesake out of range of her kick.
“Do you want to know what I was thinking that night?” I asked.
Shay really wasn’t in a conversational mood, but she wasn’t holding anything sharp. No clear and present danger. Unfortunately, the most passionate woman I ever met was armed, locked, and loaded with her sights aimed for our family jewels or the space between my eyes.
“I came to the bar and saw a beautiful woman who looked upset and alone,” I said. “I thought someone stood you up. I really only hoped I’d grab your number.”
Her arched eyebrow said more than she revealed, but at least I could imagine her unspoken words were polite. She crossed her arms.
“Can you look me in the eyes and say you didn’t know I was your step-sister?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh, don’t sass me. I’m not in the mood.”
“Shay, I didn’t realize you were my sister. Not until…”
I didn’t mean to say that, but I stumbled headfirst into the enemy trenches. She bristled.
“
Until
…?”
I flashed the dimples. “…Until I was balls deep in you. But who in their right mind would stop then?”
She didn’t implode on the spot. A good sign.
“That is exactly my point.” Shay poked at my chest. I was sure she imagined the abs she accidentally stroked beneath. “Who in their right mind would…would…” Her hands covered her face again. “Oh my god, I had sex with my brother.”
“Step-brother.”
“I’ll let you do the talking when we’re crashing outside the pearly gates.”
I sighed. “Come on, Shay. Harmless mistake.”
“Which time?”
Uh-oh. “Which time what?”
“You and Sergeant Hard were
balls deep
plenty of times that night.
When
did you realize who I was?”
Once, I navigated through hostile territory with no radio communication, ammunition, or GPS while under heavy fire. That was less dangerous than her question. I rubbed my head.
“Uh.” No sense lying. “The first time.”
“The first—
the first time
?” Shay fell silent. Her eyes—the most perfect mocha darkness—stared at me, wide-eyed. “You…we…spent
all night
together! And you didn’t tell me! You didn’t even
try
. God, you’re a pig! I can’t believe I
ever
let you touch me.”
She moved to escape. I made the reckless decision to grab her hand. She spun to slap, but I took that hand too, pulling her close.
Today, she smelled of lilacs. Another lock of ebony hair slipped from her pony tail and caressed her soft cheek. She fumed, practically shaking from anger, but the heat pooling in me transferred to her. I leaned in and lowered my lips to hers so that I might have whispered an apology or stolen another sin.
“A piece of paper says we’re family,” I said. “Just a stupid marriage license. You’re still you, I’m still me. We had a good time. Don’t ruin it with guilt.”
“I’m not guilty, I’m pissed.”
“Don’t be pissed either. We had fun.”
She didn’t believe me, but, Christ, did I want to prove it to her. It’d be too easy for me to haul her up, wrap her legs around my waist, and slam her against the wall.
And she’d love it. Beneath the anger? I recognized a girl more ashamed of her sexual inhibition than anything a marriage certificate dictated about our formal relationship. Her hint of shame—the embarrassment of a good girl who never went home with strangers, never let them kiss and lick and fuck her, never believed she’d have the night of her life grinding against a cock harder than steel—that drove me fucking wild.
I wanted that Shay back. I wanted the voracious, passionate,
beautiful
woman who wasn’t afraid to tell me where to touch, how hard to thrust, and how deep to push.