"So what's it going to look like to anyone who sees the golf cart just roaming around back here?" she asks.
"Like one of the groundskeepers is doing work."
"At night."
I shrug. "No one will give it a second thought," I say.
Delaney glances over at me. "My father was right," she says. "You're trouble. You definitely need a babysitter."
"I do. Will you wear a plaid skirt?"
Delaney laughs. "That's schoolgirl, not babysitter."
"Ooh. Schoolgirl then, even better. What do babysitters wear?" I ask, pulling the golf cart up to where I want to take her. We're parked on a hill on the far end of the developed part of the property next to a pond that's stocked for fishing – man-made, I think -- and overlooking the garden, which just tonight became my new favorite place. Well, it's a close second to the sunroom.
"Mine wore jeans and a t-shirt. Nothing sexy," she says. "Sorry to disappoint. Didn't you ever have a babysitter?"
"I had a nanny," I say. "German. Not very pleasant."
"Was Anja around a lot when you were a kid?" she asks.
"Nah," I say, shrugging. "Which is probably for the best. She's not really the most motherly person there ever was."
Delaney is silent for a minute. "It looks so pretty from afar," she says, looking at the party from our vantage point in the distance, where the white lights glitter against the backdrop of the tents.
"Yeah, it's when you have to actually go down there and interact with everyone that it's not as pretty," I say. That came out a lot more bitter-sounding than I intended.
Delaney tucks her hair behind her ear and looks at me. "Are you happy?" she asks. "I don't mean, like are you happy with you and I or whatever. I mean it more generally."
"What the hell, Delaney? That's an uncomfortable fucking question."
"You think?" she asks. "It shouldn't be, right? It should be easy."
"I don't know," I say. It's not easy. It's the least easy question ever. "Are you happy?"
She studies me for a second, and I swear to God my heart stops. Like, full on stops. I don't know why I care so much what her answer to that question is, but it suddenly seems like the most meaningful second of waiting in the world.
Then she breaks into the biggest damn smile I've ever seen, and she's absolutely fucking radiant. "Yeah," she says. "Right now I am."
I stare at her stupidly, and before I can say anything, she presses her soft lips to mine. The kiss is tentative and hesitant, just like the way she first kissed me four years ago. And I'm instantly transported to feeling eighteen and head over heels for Delaney.
She kisses me the way no one ever had before and no one has since, and the chemistry is so intense it's a fucking explosion, fireworks on the Fourth of July.
And I mean that literally.
Both of us jump at the explosion, and Delaney giggles. "Oh my God, that scared me," she says.
Then she puts her hand in mine, and for a minute, we just sit there watching the fireworks together, and I think that my fucking heart is going to explode.
The fireworks are still going when she climbs on top of me and kisses me, her hair falling down around my face. I slip the straps of her dress from her shoulders, followed by her bra, and look at her, silhouetted against the background of the party and the fireworks.
I'm suddenly struck by how much everything with Delaney feels right. She feels like coming home.
She pauses, looking at me. "What?" she whispers. "You look weird."
"Fuck you, too," I say, my thumb sliding over her hard nipple.
She swats my arm. "I mean, you have a weird expression," she says softly, kissing me again.
I put my hands on both sides of her face and take her in. "It's nothing," I say. "I could just get used to looking at you like this."
Delaney doesn't say anything, just blushes her response before kissing me again. Her tongue finds mine, and she moans against me, sliding her hand down to my waistband, where she fumbles with the button on my pants before gripping the lapels of my jacket. "I want this off," she says, her voice breathy. "Take this off. I want you inside me."
That's what I've been waiting to hear. It's not everything, but it's enough. I strip off my jacket and toss it on the seat beside her, and then her hands are on my waistband, unzipping my pants before I even have the chance. When she grasps my cock, she sighs.
She fucking sighs.
Like she's been waiting for it.
Just when I think I have a handle on Delaney, she goes and changes everything.
I reach between her legs and confirm her desire. "You're still wet," I say.
"I told you."
Delaney doesn't even wait for me to put on the condom; she grabs it from my hand as soon as I rip open the wrapper, and rolls it onto my length, her eyes never leaving mine. "No more foreplay," she orders. Flashing me a wicked grin, she turns around and flips up her skirt, then impales herself on my cock, gliding onto my length in one single movement, before settling back against me.
I hold her tight, caressing her breasts as I rock slowly inside her. The fact that I'm filling her up to the hilt, my balls pressed against her, out here in the middle of her father's estate, is enough to leave me throbbing. But then Delaney starts to ride me, slowly and rhythmically, and I'm brought nearly to the brink.
"Oh, God, Gaige," she moans. "Just like that."
"No more foreplay," I say as I fuck her. But I don't mean the actual physical act of foreplay. I mean the bickering and fighting, the back-and-forth between Delaney and I.
"No," she gasps. "Just fuck me."
I thrust deeper inside her and she rides me, grinding harder against me as she starts to lose control. She brings me closer and closer and I pull her head back by gripping a handful of hair. "No more messing around, Delaney," I warn.
"Oh God, Gaige," she gasps. "I'm so close."
"No. More. Of. This. One. Night. Stand. Bullshit." I punctuate each word with a thrust and a yank of her hair. "You and I are fucking."
"Yes," she moans.
"You wait to come until I say you can come," I say. Fuck, I'm going to have a hard time waiting. I press more firmly on her clit to torture her a little more. "Do you understand me?"
"Gaige, please."
"Is that a yes?" I ask. "You belong to me. All of you is mine."
"Yes, yes, yes," she cries out.
"Come for me," I growl into her ear, and her muscles squeeze my cock before I even finish the sentence. My balls clench and I let go, filling her up, my hands on her hips, pushing her down hard on my cock. When she screams, I push my fingers in her mouth and she sucks on them, muting her cries.
I'm so caught up in the moment that I don't even register at first that she's slapping me on the arm. "What, baby?"
"Gaige!" she yells. "We're fucking moving."
"Fuck, yeah, we are." My eyes are closed and I have my head buried in her neck, and I'm breathing in her scent, this mixture of sex and summertime that I want to imprint on my brain so I can remember it forever.
"Shit, no, Gaige! We're actually moving! Backwards!" she yells.
I open my eyes, and realized we are rolling backwards, in fact. Rapidly.
Down the hill.
Toward the motherfucking pond.
I fumble for the emergency break, trying to find it with my foot in the dark and Delaney on my lap. That's a lot harder than it sounds, when you're careening backwards down a hill.
When I hit the brake pedal and we stop sliding backwards, we're perched on the bank of the pond, the back wheels dangerously close to the water. The golf cart sits slightly at an angle, and Delaney sits squarely on my cock.
She gasps, her bare breasts heaving, hand over her face. For a second, I think she's crying, but when she looks up, she erupts into peals of laughter. "Holy shit, Gaige, we almost ended up in the lake!"
"We probably should sit here for a few more minutes," I say. "Don't want to shift the weight or anything to accidentally
make us roll into the pond."
"Oh my God, will it?" she squeals. Then she looks over her shoulder at me and I raise my eyebrows. "You just want me on your cock longer."
"Smart girl."
"Did you mean what you said when we were in the middle of…you know?"
"Did I mean what I said about us?" I ask.
"Yes," she says. "Do you want this to be more than just a one night stand?"
I pull her against me, one arm wrapped tightly around her chest. "I've never been more than a one night stand kind of guy. All I know is that I don't want to be with anyone else, and that the thought of someone else putting his hands on you makes me want to kill him."
"So, no Chelsea," she says.
"Fuck, of course there's no Chelsea," I tell her.
"No bimbos or groupies," she says.
"There's no one else but you, Delaney." When I say the words aloud, they ring true. The problem is that I thought I was just talking about having her all to myself in the bedroom, but now I'm not sure sex is all I want from her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Delaney
I'm stuck on a flight to Japan with Gaige and Chelsea. Not that this is awkward or anything. At all.
Chelsea has been sweet as pie to me, but I'm pretty sure she wants me dead. I think she suspects Gaige and I are up to something, and that's definitely true. We've been sneaking around like a couple of hormonal teenagers. The truth is, I can't get enough of him. I find myself wanting him all the time, and that fact is starting to scare me a little bit.
The flight itself hasn't been terrible. We have first class suites, so I put up the privacy partition on mine as soon as we took off, and I didn't have to even think about Chelsea and how she glared at me from the other side of the aisle when Gaige got into the suite next to mine. It's almost like she doesn't exist. The seat converts into a bed, and I'm lying here on my laptop looking at the schedule, but I'm preoccupied with thoughts of Gaige.
Gaige says he wants us to be more than just a one night stand. But is it only because he doesn't want anyone else to touch me?
I press my finger to my lips, thinking about Gaige's version of owning me. I've never wanted to be possessed by someone before, but that's what I find myself wanting now.
A message appears in my inbox.
Are you sleeping? I'm bored. You should figure out a way to entertain me. That's going to be your job on this trip, right? The flight attendant has been by a million times with champagne, you know. Put down your partition and join the living.
I choke back a laugh and roll my eyes.
I know what your version of entertainment is. I'm sure Chelsea would be thrilled if that happened. Is she still giving me the evil eye through the partition?
I give it a few minutes before I go back to looking at the schedule. Obviously, Gaige got bored and moved on to something else. And that's precisely what I'm afraid of, when it comes to him and women. That's why I keep trying to push him away.
I wonder how much I'm deluding myself by thinking I'm something special in Gaige's eyes. I think I might be letting my past feelings about him affect my judgment now. I'm afraid it might be making me careless.
I have to remind myself that what's between us is just sex. That's all. We're hooking up and that's all it's going to be. It might not be just one night but it's certainly not going to be forever.
I get another email from Gaige.
Chelsea put her partition up and she hasn't poked her head out since. She slept on the flight to Vegas. You should put down your partition and entertain me.
Show me your boobs.
Have you joined the mile-high club?
I shake my head, but I lower the partition that divides us. "You're bad," I whisper.
"Aw," he says. "Why are you still wearing your shirt? I said boobs."
"I'm looking at a boob."
"Wow, you bowl me over with your witty and clever retorts, Delaney," he says, raising his eyebrow.
"Shut up. You give me very little to work with."
Gaige grins at me, reaching over to slide his hand around the back of my neck and draw me in close to him. He kisses me full on the lips, but I push him back. "What?" he asks.
"You're going to kiss me like that, right in public?"
"No one can see in here. Our partition is down but everyone else's is up. Including Chelsea's. Fool around with me."
"How many glasses of champagne have you had?" I ask. "I'm sure the flight attendants can see in here when they walk by."
"So what. Who cares?" he asks.
"So…" I start. "Despite your blasé attitude and carelessness about, well, everything, you are a minor celebrity, you know. People are interested in who your girl-of-the-moment is."
"Pfft," Gaige says. "I'm not minor. I'm fucking major, baby."
I jump back when a flight attendant interrupts us, offering champagne. Gaige charms the pants off her, and has her giggling and leaving us the bottle in less than ten seconds. With her phone number beside it.
He pours a glass and hands it to me. "What?" he asks, when he sees my face.
I shake my head. "That's what I'm talking about."
"You're jealous of the flight attendant?"
"No, don't be ridiculous. I mean, okay, you were totally flirting with her and everything. But I know that's just how you are. And she did leave you her number."
"Which I promptly tossed in the trash. Oh, you are jealous," he says, his voice sing-songy. "I love that you're jealous."
"I'm not jealous. I'm saying that people remember you. Even if they don't know who you are, they remember you. I mean, look at you," I say, gesturing down the length of him. I had a point with this. What was my point? Okay, maybe seeing Gaige charm the pants off the flight attendant threw me off a little bit. "You're hot. You're hot…and, basically, you're fucking ripped….and tattooed….and even if you weren't all of that, your eyes, I mean, they're just so…"
"No, no," he says. "Don't stop. Keep going. What else do you love about me?"
"What?" My voice comes out like a squeak. "Who said anything about love?"
Gaige shrugs. "You're the one going on and on about how sexy I am, and how you can't stand that anyone else is even looking at me –"
"That was not the point I was making," I say. "I'm just saying that you're memorable. And people do not need to remember me with you."
Gaige studies me, and the intensity of his gaze makes me blush. Damn it, he's always making me blush. "So you're just looking out for me."
"Exactly!" I say. "I'm looking out for your best interests. It's my new job."
Gaige leans closer to me, reaches over to my seat, and runs his hand up my leg. "I'm glad we're a team."
"Is that some kind of innuendo?"
He makes an exasperated sound. "I'm glad your dad assigned you to me. Not everything that comes out of my mouth is an innuendo, Delaney."
"You were just talking about joining the mile high club and you have your hand on my leg. Plus, pretty much everything you say to me is innuendo."
"That's not true," he says, and his forehead wrinkles. For a second, I think he looks almost…hurt.
"I didn't mean it as an insult," I say, my voice halting.
"Do you think he did it on purpose?" Gaige asks.
"Did what? Who?"
"Do you think your dad knows?"
My heart stops. "No, of course not," I say quickly. "Wait, do you think he knows?"
Gaige shrugs. "I don't know," he says. "I was just wondering if he was…trying to get us together or something."
I almost spit out my champagne. "No," I say. "Definitely not. Are you kidding?"
"Is it so bad?"
"What, you and me?" My voice is too loud, and I drop it to just above a whisper. "Are you asking about if you and I got together?"
"No," Gaige says, and averts his eyes. "Forget I said anything." He lies back in his seat and closes his eyes.
Shit. I feel like someone punched me in the gut. But
Gaige asking what my father would think if we got together is insane on so many levels. "I thought you were joking," I say lamely.
Gaige's eyes remain closed. He was joking, wasn't he? I nudge his arm, but he doesn't open his eyes. "Stop ignoring me. Are you screwing around with me? You're asking what my father would think about the two of us? He would absolutely kill you. And me. Maybe me first. He'd definitely fire me. And you. And probably disown me. You're my…" I lower my voice to a whisper. "Brother."
He opens his eyes and looks at me. "Step-brother," he says. "And yeah, whatever, I was totally just kidding. Hooking up is one thing, but what am I going to do, date you?" His voice is nonchalant, but there's an edge to it that wasn't there before.
Crap. Now I really feel like someone punched me in the gut.
Gaige sinks back against his seat and I sit back in mine, the silence between us deafening, acting as if nothing happened.
Except it feels like everything just happened.
Sometimes the most important conversations start like the most innocuous ones in the world, no big deal, and then they just spiral out of control of their own accord. I want to rewind the last twenty minutes and do it all over again. But this time, I'd actually say the right words.
Except I'm not sure what I would say. Was Gaige hinting that he wanted to date me? I don't even know how that would work, even if we weren't step-siblings. I already know Gaige. We have history. Would we sit at dinner and go to movies and pretend to get to know each other?
I close my eyes, faking sleep. How the hell did I get myself into this situation?
And why can't I stop thinking about what Gaige said?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Gaige
It's been a whirlwind couple of weeks in Japan -- I don't even know where the hell we've been, to be honest. The first week I was too jet-lagged to notice much of anything, and content to just be told where to go and what to do. Photo shoots, interviews, appearances, one right after the other. I shot some television commercials, but I don't even know what the products were. Cologne, I think – nothing bike-related. And an ad for one of those little canned coffee drinks. It's all a blur.
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