Forbidden Lust

11

Barrett

Iwoke up with a Texas hard-on and Lourde’s head nuzzled in the crook of my neck. Her delicious tits dug into my side, and her arm splayed across my bare chest. With each slow breath she took, she warmed my skin. I wanted nothing more than to wake her up—my head between her legs and the sound of her moaning. The more I stared at her, the less I trusted myself. I slid away quietly and stood at the edge of the bed. She groaned, letting out a light snore as she rolled over, her little shorts revealing the cheek of her ass. My teeth dug into my lower lip at the sight, and the metallic taste of blood lingered on my tongue. Get the fuck out, Barrett. Distance and physical exhaustion were needed to curb the temptation.

I returned from a punishing run when I found her making pancakes in my fucking kitchen. Christ, that’s two mornings now she’d made breakfast. No woman was ever around long enough to make me breakfast. And I wasn’t even fucking her.

“Morning.” She tossed me a genuine smile, then turned the stove off. She wore her hair up in a loose bun. A few strands fell around her heart-shaped face.

I sucked back an entire bottle of Evian, then tossed it in the trash. “Morning.”

“This is for last night,” she said, stacking the pancakes onto a plate.

“Are you trying to make me lose my muscle mass in a week?” I asked, the smell of pancakes and bacon making me salivate.

I had to admit, waking up next to Lourde had put me in a great mood. I couldn’t wash away her scent of apples and berries. I didn’t want to. But fuck it, it wasn’t rocket science. We were bad news for each other, and I couldn’t go there.

Last night she tempted me, but restraint won over. My head and my smarts were always first. Thank fuck she wasn’t wearing those pajamas in the kitchen. That restraint was only holding on by a thread. It would likely break faced with the outline of her nipples or curve of her ass in her satin shorts.

She rolled her lips in while dragging her gaze to my sweaty t-shirt. “Unlikely,” she muttered.

“I need to take a shower. I stink,” I said, pulling my shirt that clung to my chest. Summer in the Hamptons was brutally hot. But it wasn’t the heat. I had also pushed myself further this morning. Punishing myself for thinking I could ever have a woman like Lourde.

“You can’t eat cold pancakes!” She sat on the stool next to me. “Besides, I like your smell.”

Surprised, I turned to her, but she didn’t meet my gaze. Instead, she had the bottle of Canadian maple syrup, pouring it on thick, its sticky goo dripping down the stack.

She turned to me, handing me the bottle. “What’s wrong with a little naughty treat now and then?” A dare lay behind those hazel eyes, and I knew she wasn’t talking about the maple syrup.

“No treats for me.” I glared at her, then picked up a fork and shoveled the bacon in my mouth, deciding to limit conversation.

“You’re quiet.” Dragging her eyes down to the ‘V’ of sweat down the front of my soaked shirt, she pushed her empty plate to the side.

The truth was, I felt guilty about Hunter finding his way in, and it hadn’t left me, and worse, it had stirred up my past. Her ex was a creep. He scared her, but he wasn’t dark enough to hurt her. I knew that darkness. Seeing him forcibly on her had me remembering the time I found Dad pinning Mom down against her will. Except on that fateful day, I couldn’t ignore it. I’d returned with Dad’s gun, the same one he’d threatened my sister and me with for years. I screamed at him to get off her. But he launched at me, and we fought. The gun fired in the scuffle and sent a bullet into Evelyn's leg, then another straight into Mom’s chest. She didn’t stand a chance.

“There’s nothing wrong with quiet.”

“Right.”

“You didn’t need to do this,” I said, referring to the stack of pancakes in front of me.

“I did. If it wasn’t for you last night, I don’t know if I’d have gone back to sleep.”

“Well, fuck, that’s not what you want a girl to say to you.”

She laughed, and it hit me between the temples. “You know what I mean.”

“So what are you doing here in the Hamptons, Barrett? Shouldn’t you be back in Manhattan?”

“Hopefully, buying another hotel,” I said, taking a bite of my semi-warm pancake.

“Oh, is that all?” She smiled, the reflection of the ocean in her eyes. “Why, hopefully?”

“Because the guy’s a stubborn jerk and pulling some last-minute deal breakers.”

“Oh, anything I can help with?”

I side-eyed her. “No.”

“You know I went to the best school, top of my class too. I have a brain and want to use it.”

“So, who’s stopping you?” Oh, right.

She put down her coffee.

“Connor.” I nodded. “And your mom.”