Prince Albert, Page 43

  "This can't leave this room, Gaige," she says, her voice panicked. "Promise me."

  I turn toward her, swallowing my irritation. "Trust me, sweetheart, I have no interest in anyone else finding out about this."

  For a second, I think the expression that flits across her face is hurt or disappointment, but it's gone so quickly I can't be sure. "Exactly," she says quickly.

  "So we'll agree. It will just be one night."

  "Right."

  "Then it won't hurt to do it again, will it?" I ask. "I mean, one night, right? It's best to get everything out of your system."

  She rolls over onto her side, facing me, her head resting on her hand. "One night and that's it. After tonight, we stop."

  I nod. "Absolutely."

  Like hell we're going to stop. I only just started with this girl.

  "And it stays between us."

  "I'm not taking an ad out in the newspaper," I say, running my hand up her thigh.

  Delaney wrinkles her nose. "Do people even do newspaper ads anymore?"

  "I don't care," I say, sliding my hand up farther. "Are we going to talk about newspapers, or are we going to make love?"

  Delaney slaps me on the arm. "Ugh. Stop using that phrase."

  I reach up to her mouth, run my thumb along her bottom lip. "Ask me nicely."

  She raises her eyebrows. "I don't ask for anything nicely."

  "If I recall correctly, you were begging pretty well earlier," I say. "Now you're changing your tune?"

  She smiles before wrapping her lips around the tip of my finger, and all I can picture is her lips wrapped around my cock. "Too much talking," she says. "One night, remember?"

  In the morning, Delaney murmurs in her sleep, incoherent nonsense words but I listen anyway. She's lying with her head on my chest, her hair splayed out all over, finally asleep after one more round of sex followed by an outrageous amount of talking about random meaningless things. It's like the sex loosened her tongue, made her punch drunk or something. It made us both that way, I guess.

  Delaney was giggling, laughing at stupid shit I said while we laid in bed, kind of like she used to when we would hang out at night. Except this time, we were naked. And I wasn't trying to get in her pants anymore, because I already had.

  I'd always figured that if I ever tapped Delaney Marlowe, that would be the end of it, just like the way it worked with every other chick I'd ever met. The chase is everything – it's the aftermath that I can't fucking stand.

  But with Delaney, I don't want to leave. So I close my eyes and breathe in the scent of her, filing it away in my memory bank. Just in case she's serious about this being a one night stand.

  She finally stirs, rolling over onto her stomach to look at me, her expression satiated, at least until she registers it's me. Then it changes to a look of panic. "You're still here," she whispers.

  "Good morning to you too, sweetheart."

  "What time is it?"

  I glance over at the alarm clock on the table. "Eight."

  "Eight?" she asks, sitting bolt upright. "Shit. I have to jump in the shower. Chelsea will have my ass if I walk into work late. Didn't my alarm go off?"

  "Yeah, but you looked so comfortable, I didn't want to wake you."

  "Damn it, Gaige." She slides out of bed and runs in the bathroom to turn on the shower before she comes back out. "How the hell are you going to sneak out of here?"

  "I thought I'd lounge around in your bed naked until the housekeeper came in to clean, and then I'd tell her the whole story of what happened between us last night."

  Delaney's eyes go wide. "I swear to God, Gaige, if you don't get out of here…"

  "Relax, sweetheart," I say, not bothering to hide the edge to my voice. This isn't how I fucking pictured this morning going at all. "I think you need to postpone that shower. A little morning sex would significantly improve your mood." I toss back the covers and gesture toward my cock.

  "One night, Gaige," she says. "That's it, remember?"

  "Did we say one night or one day?" I ask. "Because if it was one day, then technically we still have until tonight. Twenty-four hours."

  Delaney sighs. Why do I love the sound she makes when she's exasperated with me? I shouldn't love it as much as I do, but getting under her skin is thrilling. It's like foreplay. "One night, Gaige. One night and that's it. How are you going to sneak out of here?"

  I slide out of bed, crossing the room to where she stands, naked. Usually women, at least the kind of women I hook up with, look worse for wear in the morning. But not Delaney. She looks better than she did last night, standing here with her hair tousled, a smudge of mascara under her eyes, a fresh flush on her cheeks.

  Don't even get me started on that fucking body of hers.

  I run my palm over her waist and the side of her curvy hips, before moving it between her legs. "Instead of me sneaking out of here, why don't you let me lick you again?"

  Delaney inhales so sharply that it's audible in the room, even over the white noise of the shower. "I have to shower."

  "It can wait."

  She pries her hand away from where it rests between her legs. "Our parents will be awake."

  "Your father will be at work already, and Anja's probably sleeping it off somewhere," I say.

  "I'll be late."

  I shrug. "Chelsea can wait," I say. I can't stop looking at her lips. They're still pink-tinged around the edges, swollen from my kisses, and I kiss her again, lightly, but she turns her head away, touching her fingers to her lips.

  "I have morning breath," she says.

  I tilt her head up to me. "I don't care."

  "Gaige, don't," she whispers. "Please."

  She turns and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. And shutting me out. Just like that.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  DELANEY

  Damn it, damn it, damn it.

  I let the shower water run over me, half-hoping that Gaige will yank open the shower door and step inside, pushing me up against the wall the way he did last night. I can still feel his hands on my skin, the smell of him lingering in the air. When I wash him off me, I'm a little sad.

  But I put thoughts of him aside. I hooked up with Gaige O'Neal once. I can't hook up with him again. Even if every part of my body is screaming at me to go back into the bedroom and tell Gaige that I want him.

  I know better than to do something like that, for all kinds of reasons, like the fact that Gaige is my step-brother. If my mother found out, she'd lose her shit. Anja would be horrified. And my father would be unimaginably disappointed. Or the fact that Gaige is not a relationship kind of guy. Besides, I really don't know if I can even stand him outside of the bedroom.

  In the bedroom, though…fireworks. I'm not terribly experienced – I slept with a grand total of two people in my life, before Gaige. Both people had been boyfriends, people I thought I cared about. So the sex should have been amazing, right? It's supposed to be amazing when it's with someone you love.

  Except last night with Gaige – someone I can barely tolerate, let alone love – was so much better than anything I've ever imagined.

  Of course, I have to put it out of my mind. I'm sure Gaige already has. I'm certain this is nothing to him.

  When I step out of the bathroom, my towel wrapped around me, Gaige is gone, and for a second, I think about walking next door and telling him that I've reconsidered, that I'd rather call in sick and spend the morning in bed with him.

  But I don't.

  Instead, I go to work and try to put the entire thing out of my mind.

  * * *

  It turns out that it's really fucking hard to forget what happened when your stupid stepbrother refuses to stop reminding you.

  "Do you have the schedule ironed out for the fourteenth?" Chelsea stands in front of me, her hands on her hips, scowling. "Did you make contact with the rep?"

  She's asking about the schedule for one of the dates for the Japan trip, and I answer her, "Of c
ourse," while thinking about Gaige's text.

  "You're distracted," she says. "I hope that won't be par for the course during this entire trip."

  "I'm tired – I think it must be allergies or something," I say. I'm sure it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I slept with Gaige last night, or the fact that Gaige just texted me telling me, in explicit detail, exactly what sex acts he could fit into the rest of the day before twenty-four hours is officially over.

  "Must be nice to have the luxury of fatigue," Chelsea says, before whirling around and walking out the door. I watch the door close behind me before responding to Gaige.

  Stop texting me. I'm trying to work.

  I'm responding to an email when my phone buzzes again.

  I'm your client. You can't ignore me. Those are the rules.

  It's accompanied by a picture of his dick. Which is, well, pretty fucking fantastic, I think, as I turn the phone to get a better view from every angle. I admire it for a minute, then text him back.

  Clients don't text me dirty photos.

  I don't even get two words typed on the computer before my phone buzzes again.

  I hope not. If they do, I'll have to kill them.

  Okay, so that makes me smile. But I shut off my phone and put it in my purse. Texting Gaige all day is not going to help me get him out of my head.

  * * *

  "Are you going to keep ignoring me?" Gaige is in my doorway, wearing jeans and a t-shirt with some kind of motorcycle logo on it. I know nothing about bikes or racing, and despite my attempts to educate myself about the sport, I don't recognize the things I should probably know about.

  "If you keep –" I step toward him, lowering my voice to a whisper. "Texting me the way you are…"

  "What? A photo of my cock is too distracting for you?"

  I roll my eyes, trying to look more nonchalant than I feel. "It's not distracting the way you think it is."

  Gaige steps into my room and shuts the door. "The real thing is a lot better," he says. "But you already know that, don't you, darlin'?"

  "Our parents are home," I hiss. "Get out of my room before someone catches you in here."

  "We're not doing anything except having a friendly conversation," he says.

  "We're not talking about anything," I say. "You're just hoping to get laid again."

  A grin spreads across Gaige's face. "I'm definitely hoping to get laid again," he says. "Aren't you?"

  "We can't," I protest.

  "Because it's unprofessional?" he says, his tone mocking.

  "Because – yes, it's unprofessional," I say. "And because we're about to travel overseas together for a business trip."

  "Are you afraid you won't be able to keep your hands off me?" he asks.

  "No!" I protest. But that's definitely not true. "You think way too highly of yourself."

  "Darlin'," he says, crossing the room and standing inches away from me, "I know you haven't been able to stop thinking about it. You're lying to yourself."

  "Why, because you're so amazing in the sack?" I ask, my voice wavering. He's right. Everything in me cries out for his touch. I want to feel him inside me.

  "Don't act like it's not exactly that," Gaige says. His gaze falls from my face to my chest, and my breath catches in my throat. I picture him putting a finger between the top buttons of my shirt and yanking, scattering buttons everywhere. I'm terrified that's exactly what I want him to do. "If I recall correctly, you were moaning my name last night, right? Fuck me, Gaige, right?"

  "Be quiet," I hiss, covering his mouth with my hand. He grips my wrist, yanks my hand away from his mouth and pulls me against him. Damn it. I can feel his hardness pressing against me, and my body responds with an immediate flood of heat between my legs.

  "I can try to be quiet," he whispers. "I just don't know if you can."

  "You have to leave," I order.

  "Or what?"

  Or my resolve will weaken. "Or I'll scream."

  Gaige grins. "Scream my name," he says.

  "I'm not joking, Gaige," I say, my voice firm. "Get out of my room. Right now. Or I will scream." I immediately regret the words coming out of my mouth. I want to take them back, to tell him to stay here. I want to slide down to my knees and take him in my mouth again.

  But Gaige just smiles, leans in close to my ear. "How long do you think it'll be before I'm back inside that sweet pussy of yours? A day? A week?"

  "We can't, Gaige," I tell him. But my voice is strained.

  "Tell yourself whatever helps you sleep at night, darlin'," he says. "But I'll be right next door when you change your mind."

  Only after he leaves and the door shuts behind him does my heart stop racing. Crap. I turn the shower on, ice-cold. Do cold showers actually work?

  Ten minutes later, I feel exactly the way I did before – horny as hell. Except now I'm shivering and horny. Faking sick to avoid dinner with Gaige and my parents doesn't help me feel any better.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  GAIGE

  It's been two weeks since Delaney and I hooked up. Fourteen days. She's been carefully avoiding me, and I've been spending every waking moment in physical therapy and back on the bike at the track. And thinking about how to get back in Delaney's bed.

  "This is an important night for your step-father," Anja says. I've just walked in the door, still wearing my riding gear, helmet in my hand, and she's up my ass already. "Don't walk through the house in those boots."

  "I'll take them off in my room," I say. "Unless you want me to strip off everything right here in the foyer?" The housekeeper ducks out of the entryway, smart enough to avoid this scene.

  "Have some class, Gaige," she sniffs.

  "Cocktails, already, mother?" I ask. "Not even bothering to wait for the party?"

  Anja sips from her tumbler. "You'd better not ruin this for Beau," she says.

  "I'd better not ruin it for Beau?" I ask. "Ask yourself who of the two of us is more likely to ruin anything for Beau tonight."

  "You know what I mean," she hisses. "I know what's going on with you and Delaney."

  My heart stops cold in my chest, but I keep my voice calm. "What do you think is going on with me and Delaney?"

  "You think a girl like that is ever going to look at you twice? Even if she weren't your sister, she'd be out of your league." She