Dirty Laundry (Get Dirty 2)

I sigh, wishing it were that easy. I love my sister, but sometimes she can be a bit idyllic. “What? I don’t love Elise. How could I? We just met, for all intents and purposes. I just . . . want her.”

Sarah puts her hand on my shoulder, patting it gently. “Fine. So you don’t introduce her to Carsen. But you take a little joy in life for yourself. She’s the only woman who’s even intrigued you in all these years. I never said anything before because I could see that about you. And I can see that you’re fighting this now. But maybe . . . don’t?”

“What about the articles? It’s not exactly professional for either of us to be fucking while she’s writing a tell-all expose on me,” I exclaim. “And it gets her closer to the truth.”

Sarah smirks, shaking her head. “Uhm, I’m sure more than one article has been ‘researched’ that way, especially in showbiz. At least you two can go into it with eyes wide open. Talk to her, see if you can figure out how to tell her what she needs to know for the articles without putting Carsen at risk. It could work. And judging by the way you’re behaving, it’s gonna happen sooner or later anyway, so best to get in front of it. Control the outcome, Mr. Control Freak. You can’t tell me you haven’t been going over every possible scenario already. Just pick the one where you get to have a little fun for a change.”

Fun. My own sister, telling me to have fun, which of course means get my fucking freak on. “I can’t believe you’re telling me to fuck the reporter. This has bad written all over it.”

Sarah grins and punches me in the arm. “Well, a little bad can be a good thing sometimes, little brother.”

I groan, remembering how Elise said something similar just last night. And now, my sister. “Ugh, don’t. For the love of fuck, do not. You’re my sister, Sarah. Just hush.”

She laughs, miming locking her lips as she gives me a sassy look and walks out of the kitchen, calling for Carsen. “Carsen, c’mon, honey. Grab your gear and let’s roll. Don’t forget to think of a chick flick for us to watch. Something romantic . . . maybe Enchanted?

Quieter, I hear her mutter under her breath. “Mmm, McDreamy . . .”

I shake my head, definitely not wanting to know who my sister fantasizes about.

Carsen runs through, bag tossed over her shoulder, grinning. “Bye, Dad, we’re leaving.”

“Hey, wait a second, young lady,” I declare, holding up a hand. “I at least need a hug bye.”

She grins, wrapping her arms around my shoulders, and I pick her up, giving her a big hug. She’s still so young, so fragile, and if I were a stronger man, maybe I’d be able to keep the promise I gave her. But I’m weak, I’ll admit it.

Elise lights me up like no woman ever has, and I can’t hold out much longer against my desire. I’ve got to figure out a way to keep Carsen a secret, keep her safe, but give in to this thing with Elise, at least a little to let the pressure off.

Giving Carsen one more squeeze, I give her a kiss on the cheek. “I love you, baby girl. You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

She looks at me weird, like I’ve lost my damn mind. “Of course, Dad. I love you, too.”

I set her down, and she’s off with Sarah, already talking about ordering pizza. “And popcorn too! Okay?”

Sarah laughs, nodding at Carsen before looking at me, giving me a little wink. Before I know it, they’re driving away in Sarah’s SUV and I’m alone.

Elise won’t be here for hours, not until dinner time. But I’m already craving her, her breathy moans as I picture fucking her like I have every time I’ve jacked off since last night.

If I’m honest with myself, it’s not just the sex I’m after though. I want her smiles, her laugh, for her to tell me about her day.

I want to know her. That’s the scariest part of all.

Chapter 11

Elise

My fingers are flying across the keyboard for this second article. It really is some of the easiest writing I’ve ever done. It’s like I’m just pouring myself out on the pages, and I know the hardest part will be keeping myself under the word limit.

“So tell me about your first performance.”

Keith’s recorded voice is deep and casual, sending warm ripples through my body as he chuckles in my earphones. “Wow, that takes me back. It was . . . fourth grade. My school’s talent contest, and I knew that I wanted to sing my ass off. I couldn’t play well enough yet, but I got my hands on the instrumentals to some Garth Brooks.”