My First Love Affair: A Bancroft Billionaire Brothers Novel #3

by Parker, Ali

  I needed predictable. I needed an easy day that didn’t require a lot of thinking. My brain was stuck in sex mode. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way he felt over me—in me—and the way he had tasted and smelled. It had all been over so fast and I had only myself to blame. I had been primed and ready and unable to stop my body’s very visceral reaction to his. He was probably congratulating himself for a job well done. I was of the mind it wasn’t really all him, but the dry spell I had been in. He’d just been in the right place at the right time. I laughed aloud. That was an understatement.

  I forced myself to focus. Putting my brain to work and getting ready for the morning. Thankfully, I knew I was going to be opening and had everything set up for myself. I was so glad I had the foresight to do it. With coffee brewed and everything else ready to roll, I unlocked the front door, turned on the lights, and hit the button for the music.

  It started out slow, giving me time to get my juices flowing and my second cup of coffee. It wasn’t until eight or so that the first few customers began to trickle in the door. They were the regulars, which always made things easy.

  “Good morning,” I greeted one of the women who had been coming to my shop since it had first opened.

  “Hi there. You look a little tired this morning,” she commented.

  I laughed. “It was a late night.”

  “I’m actually very happy to hear that. You work too hard,” she lectured.

  “I like to work. I like working more when I’ve had plenty of sleep, but I’ll live,” I told her.

  “Did you have a hot date last night?” she asked with a grin on her face.

  She was a middle-age woman, married with two kids in college. She had recently started a blog and spent hours every morning in my shop working on her posts. We had come to know each other pretty well. She would often ask me to proofread her posts, which gave me further insight to who she was.

  I felt my cheeks blush. The mere mention of my hot date had me a little flustered. “No, I went out with a couple friends. There’s a new club and we had a lot of fun.”

  She looked at me, clearly not believing me. “Really? That does sound like fun. Did you meet anyone?”

  I scoffed. “Not worth remembering. My friend and I danced a lot … hours. My feet feel like they are twice as big as they were yesterday.”

  I didn’t mention that the friend was Mason. Details were not needed. Technically, I had danced quite a bit with Deanna, so it wasn’t a lie. Dalton was a friend, so saying I was out with friends was also accurate.

  “Enjoy your youth,” she said with a laugh. “Dance until your feet feel like they are going to fall off, because when you get to my age, walking around the grocery store can leave you feeling that way,” she said with a laugh.

  I handed her the cappuccino she always ordered. “Are you writing something juicy?” I asked her.

  She laughed softly. “If juicy is about doing your son’s laundry on a weekend after it has been sitting for a month. I swear that child tries my patience.”

  “But you love him.” I grinned.

  She sighed, shaking her head. “Yes, I do, and boy is he glad I do. That laundry he brought me was absolutely awful. I cannot believe he was living in the same building with it,” she said, her face revealing her distaste.

  She walked away, finding a seat in the corner and pulling out her laptop. She was probably ten years older than I was and had two kids in college. She’d married right out of high school—almost twenty years ago—and seemed like she had it all together. I admired her but wasn’t sure I envied her. I liked my freedom. I liked feeling like I was successful, even if I couldn’t really claim that one.

  I had never really been one to fantasize about being a mom, a wife, and living in a cute little house with a fenced backyard. I didn’t know if I wanted children. I liked kids, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready to dedicate my life to child-rearing. It looked hard, like really hard. Most of my customers were parents who had been up half the night with a crying baby. They were the ones who needed a straight caffeine injection.

  The morning was slow, which I was grateful for, but knew I probably needed the business. I’d worry about it later. For now, I was going to appreciate the reprieve. I went about the morning, staying on top of the drink orders. Fortunately, help arrived just when I started to sink. I had a mess going behind the counter as I struggled to keep up with the line. I was feeling a little frazzled when my employee walked through the door and hopped on the register.

  I fell into my zone, steaming milk, pouring coffee, and keeping everyone happy. I could hear the music in the background. A song came on, triggering a memory so vivid it took me by surprise. It was a song I had danced to last night—with Mason. It was one of those slow, breathy songs that made you think about being in the bedroom with someone, sliding up and down a hard body. I immediately thought of Mason’s body and how it felt against mine when we’d been dancing.

  “Adelaide, are you okay?”

  I heard the question through a cloud of haze. I turned, following the voice. “Hmm?”

  “Adelaide? Are you okay?” I heard the question and realized it was coming from Zoey, my employee.

  “What? Yes. Why?” I muttered, trying to focus on what she was saying.

  She looked at me, studying me intensely. “You look a little, uh, I don’t know, sick?” she said as if she were uncomfortable.

  “I’m not sick.”

  “You’ve been standing there, holding that cup, and staring into space. Do you need a break?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “No, I’m fine. I’m just a little tired. I was up late and up early, you know,” I said, trying to shrug it off.

  I wasn’t lying, but I wasn’t going to tell her I had been spacing off about the man I had sex with last night. The man I had actually hated until about two o’clock that very morning. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I didn’t still hate him. It was a very complicated, odd situation.

  I thought about Deanna. I had to tell her what I had done. She’d figure it out eventually. I wanted to make sure it was on my terms and I got to explain why I did what I had done. Well, that wasn’t going to happen. I couldn’t explain it because I didn’t know why I did it. She’d talk me through it. I would tell her, and she would tell me why, and then we could move on. I didn’t want to end up falling into bed with him again. I didn’t want to find myself out at a club, having a good time, and then wake up in bed with Mason again.

  The best course of action was to never see Mason again. I could avoid him. I would always ask Deanna who was going to be with me if we went out again. I would never go to a biker bar. New York City was huge. I never had to see him.

  Problem solved.

  Chapter 13

  Mason

  I woke for the second time that day. As soon as I had picked up my bike, I rode straight home and collapsed into bed. There was no way in hell I was getting up at six and staying up for the day. That was asinine. I had gone back to bed thinking about Adelaide and woke up still thinking about her. I needed to shower. I wasn’t lying when I told her I could still feel her on my skin, her scent clinging to me. In a way, I didn’t want to wash it away. I wanted to trigger more memories from last night.

  I was still in shock over the situation. The last woman on earth I would have ever imagined myself going home with was Adelaide Sinclair. She had been horrible most of the evening and then the dancing happened, and she transformed into a sexy creature who couldn’t seem to get enough of me. The feeling had been mutual. Something had changed between us on that dance floor.

  I closed my eyes again, letting myself drift back to that first kiss on the sidewalk. She’d made the first move. I had been fighting it all night—but she’d been the one to give in. That was satisfying. The image of her sprawled out on her bed, my finger inside her as she arched and cried out with the first orgasm, would forever be burned in my memory. I had nearly exploded just watching her.

  I groaned, my di
ck growing hard at the image of her in my brain. I felt like the luckiest man alive that I had gotten to feel her around me, feel her squeezing me inside her body. I had gotten to taste her and run my hands over her sweet, little body. I was also the unluckiest man alive. I wouldn’t get her again. She was the forbidden fruit. I had my one shot at her, and I wished like hell I could have taken my time with her. She was too much to handle, and I hadn’t been able to enjoy her as much as I would have liked.

  This morning was a pretty clear indication that she wasn’t going to be inviting me back into her bed again. She’d made it evident she still hated me. I chuckled realizing I had been used for my body. I wasn’t mad about it.

  I threw off my light blanket and headed for the shower. It was time to move on with my life. I wasn’t going to sit around pining for a woman I didn’t particularly like. I quickly showered and then went to the kitchen to start some coffee and look for something to eat. I was famished. I grabbed some leftover Chinese, smelled it, decided it was safe enough, and sat down at the bar with my coffee.

  As I quietly ate my breakfast, I couldn’t help but think about all that happened last night. I replayed it over in my head, starting with the horrible dinner. Adelaide had been a nightmare. Even thinking about the way she acted helped put a damper on my lust for her. I couldn’t let her know she’d left me bitten. I couldn’t let her know I craved her body. That was giving her too much power and that was dangerous. She was not to be trusted.

  I heard my phone ringing and instantly hoped it wasn’t Dalton. He was going to kick my ass if and when he found out about what happened. He wouldn’t care that Adelaide had initiated the situation. He wouldn’t care that she was a very willing, active participant. He took care of her as if she were his little sister, and I knew there would be a reckoning. I was ready for it. He could be pissed and lecture me, but I would never regret what had happened. There was no point in regretting something that had felt so right.

  I picked up the phone, deciding it was better to get it over with and saw it wasn’t Dalton, but my younger brother. James to be specific. My thumb automatically went to the decline button like it usually did when my family called. I stopped before actually pushing it and slid it over to the green.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  Anytime one of my brothers called, my first thought was my mom. She was getting older and had already had one scare this last year with a broken hip. I loved my mom. I didn’t necessarily get along with her all that well, but I did love her.

  “Are you in town?” he asked.

  I smirked. I kind of liked that none of my family knew where I was on a given day. I tended to get wild hankerings to travel. Sometimes I jumped on my bike and rode across the country. Sometimes I jumped on a plane and flew to the other side of the world. One never knew. It wasn’t like I had any commitments or responsibilities and I didn’t have a girlfriend or wife to check in with. I was my own man. I could come and go as I pleased, whenever I pleased.

  “I am. Why? What’s wrong? Is Mom okay?”

  “She’s fine, but she would like to see you.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Why?”

  He chuckled. “Because you’re her son, whether you choose to acknowledge that or not.”

  “You know what I mean. What’s up?” I asked again.

  “Everyone just happens to be in town this weekend. She’d like you to come to dinner,” he said.

  I inwardly groaned. A big family dinner was not my idea of a good time. “Why didn’t she call me?”

  “Because you never answer and because she doesn’t know you’re in town. I’m asking you to come by and see her. It will be a nice surprise for her,” he said, his voice growing irritated.

  “So, the whole gang?” I said dryly.

  “Yep, that’s the plan. It won’t kill you,” he added.

  “It might. If everyone else is there, she won’t even know I’m not,” I reasoned.

  “Bullshit. Get over the middle child nonsense. You’re the one who pulled away. She didn’t push you away. Come by. See her. I’d like to see you as well. I haven’t seen you in a while,” he said, actually sounding nice about it.

  “Why would you want to see me?” I asked skeptically.

  He laughed. “I want to make sure I’m still better looking than you.”

  “You were never better looking than me,” I retorted.

  “Be here at six. Have a good meal. You know Mom’s cooking is the best you’ll ever have.” He cajoled.

  I wasn’t going to argue with him there. I had eaten at places all around the world. Some of them had fancy Michelin stars, but my mom’s cooking was still the best. “Grayson will be there?”

  “Yes, and his family.”

  I didn’t get along with Grayson. He was bossy and thought he was King Shit because he was the oldest and he took over dad’s company. He and Jack had hated each other, and I had been the one Jack would turn to, but things had changed. Grayson and Jack were working through their bullshit and Jack had his own life. He didn’t need me anymore.

  “Colt?” I asked, kind of missing my little brother, who was next in line to me.

  He was the goody-goody. My mother absolutely adored him. She, of course, didn’t know about his exploits with women and his reputation as a womanizer. If she did, she didn’t acknowledge it. Colt could do no wrong in her eyes.

  “Yes, everyone. Come on, just show up. No one will expect you to stay long,” he said.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Mason—”

  I hung up, cutting off what was sure to be a lecture about how my mom needed us. With my dad deceased, she was all alone in the world. That was bullshit. She wasn’t alone. James lived with her. Grayson and Jack checked in on her all the time, as did Colt. It was my brother Channing and I who tended to stay away. Channing had a busy career in photography that took him all around the world, sometimes to places I had never heard of before. He was often off the grid and completely out of touch with the world.

  I tossed the rest of the Chinese in the trash and dumped out the coffee. I looked outside, saw it was a nice day, and decided to go for a ride. I needed to clear out the pipes on my Icon Sheene. I headed back into my room to change into my riding gear. My worn black leather wasn’t going to cut it for that bike. The Sheene had a certain class that required something more than a faded, dirty leather jacket. I walked into my closet and pulled out the gray leather riding jacket, meant to save my body should I ever have the horrible misfortune of lying down my bike. My full-face helmet was sitting on a shelf. I loved speed, but I also liked my brain inside my skull. I wanted every advantage to live should I find myself wrecking the bike. I’d wrecked other bikes and walked away, but the Sheene, it was a beast that demanded speed. I grabbed my riding boots, gloves, and quickly dressed, carrying my helmet and gloves as I headed out the door.

  I started my ride, weaving in and out of the slow Sunday afternoon traffic before making my way onto the highway, finding it a little less crowded. I crouched low, hugging the bike with my body as I kicked it up a gear, turning the throttle and letting it rip down the road. I loved the feel of the power between my legs as I raced along, the wind the only force against me on the open road. I rode for hours, stopping once to get gas before I found myself in a familiar area. Before I knew what I was doing, I was turning up the road, leading to the Bancroft Estate. It was like my bike had a mind of its own and was following some kind of homing beacon.

  I stopped, just outside the gate, staring straight ahead at the home I had grown up in. It held mixed memories for me. There had been good times, but there had been a lot of times I chose not to think about, because they conjured up negative feelings. I hadn’t intended to show up. It just kind of happened. I punched in the code for the gate, waited for it to open before proceeding up the driveway to the house. I cut the engine and got off my bike, leaving my helmet on. I could still make a clean getaway.

  “May as well see what the rest of
the clan is up to,” I muttered, pulling off my helmet and propping it on the seat of my bike. I unzipped my jacket, leaving it open as I headed up to the front door. No one seemed to be around. I turned around, staring at my bike, my quick getaway. I wasn’t up for this. I couldn’t sit at the dinner table and play nice and listen to how successful they all were.

  I wasn’t in the mood. Hell, I was never in the mood for the condescending stares and the looks of disgust as they took in the tattoos covering my arms. My brothers were a clean-cut lot who wore suits and spoke eloquently. They knew the right things to say, do, and never stepped out of line. Except for Jack. Jack had crossed the line in the sand when he hooked up with Dad’s archenemy’s daughter, but even that had been forgiven. She was welcomed into the fold and embraced.

  Even a Levy was given more respect at the family table than I was.

  Chapter 14

  Adelaide

  I was finally on my way home. I had been anxious to talk to Deanna all day, but I didn’t want to risk being overheard telling her all about my exploits from the night before. I pulled out my phone and called her, hoping she wasn’t in a class.

  “Hey! I was wondering if you survived the night!” she said with a giggle.

  “What do you mean?” I asked defensively.

  Did she already know? Did Mason go blabbing about what we did? I would kill him. I should have known he was that kind of a guy, bragging about his conquests to anyone who would listen. Why did I think he would be respectable and keep his mouth shut?

  “I mean, you danced and drank and then danced some more. Did you make it into work okay?” she asked.