“Good,” he grunts, and I hear relief in his voice. “Have you saved yourself for me? All of you?”
His words ripple through me, and I wonder again if this is some sick game he’s playing.
I nod, unable to lie. “I’ve never been touched anywhere,” I admit, then correct: “Except by me.”
His hands ball into fists, and I can’t tell if he’s angry or fighting some urge that has him in pain.
He leans down slightly as if something is hurting inside him, then extends his hand, bringing it to rest on mine where it sits on my heated sex.
When he opens his mouth to speak, I feel like I’m going to explode, the tension palpable in the space between us, his long fingers on top of mine.
I’m ready to burst when suddenly a loud alarm screams through the darkness, making us both jump, and he pulls his hand from mine.
He stands bolt upright. “What the fuck.”
“What is that?” My voice is shaking along with the rest of me.
He snaps his head toward the open bedroom door, then back to me. “It’s the gate alarm at the road. Someone is here.”
Visions of an angry girlfriend ignite in my mind as he half turns before looking back down at me with fire in his eyes.
“Just hold on. I’ll be right back.”
Five
Marshall
“WHAT THE FUCK,” I GRIT out as I race down the hall and stomp into my office, walking over to the screen monitoring the security cameras facing the entry and driveway.
Each breath I release feels torn from my lungs, Emmy’s scent already scored into my very soul. Like sex candy, sweet and sultry…and fuck, when she said no one had touched her before? I already knew she was mine, but when I heard that, all bets were off. She belongs to me.
There’s no car on the monitors, so I click a few buttons and change the view, huffing as I put together what’s happening.
I spin and march to the entry, and as I’m approaching, the doorbell sounds, then there’s a loud knocking and a shrill voice.
“Okay. I know you’re here; your car is here. What the heck is going on, Marshall?”
My half-sister’s less-than-pleased voice comes through before I open the door. When I do, we both stand, glaring at each other. In another universe, we would have been friends, or even business partners—she’s as tough as me, and if anything more ruthless. But as things stand, we’re family and she manages the twenty-percent stake in my fund that I signed over to my mom ten years ago.
And gets on my ass about every fucking decision I make.
“What the fuck?” I bark. “It’s almost four in the morning, Dorothy.”
Her disgusted look tells me I’m about to get an earful. “Yes, it is four in the morning. I’ve been calling you for almost an hour, and it’s going straight to voicemail.”
I look over to where my phone sits turned off on the console, her gaze following mine.
“Since when do you turn your phone off?” She steps inside without an invitation, which is no surprise.
“Since whenever I want to.” I keep the door open, reaching to grab her arm and lead her back onto the front porch so she doesn’t get too comfortable because this is going to be short and sweet.
“Connor calls me in the middle of the night, telling me you ran out after the meeting, didn’t explain anything, said you said you were losing your mind, you haven’t returned his calls or texts. So, he starts on me, waking me up, and I start calling…”
“Well, I’m fine. Both of you just need to back off. I have a mother.”
“Yeah? I called her, too. She’s been calling, and now you’ve got her upset.”
“Jesus.” I roll my eyes. “What did you go and do that for? You know how much she worries about nothing.”
Dorothy nods and shrugs. “Sorry. You brought this on yourself. We are all crazy worried—”
Just then, there’s the sound of the garage door opening. It takes me a moment, but I realize what’s happening. I bolt past Dorothy, but I’m too late. A little white Honda screeches out of the garage and down the driveway, leaving me standing there with my dick still hard and steam coming out of my ears.
AN HOUR LATER, DOROTHY has gone home and I’m on the phone with my crying mother as I sit on the edge of the bed where I still feel Emmy’s presence.
“I was so worried.”
I take a deep breath. “Mom, it was a few hours. Turning my phone off isn’t the signal of Armageddon.”
“It’s not? You’ve never turned your phone off that I can remember. I worry. You work too hard. I’m scared one day I’ll get the call you’ve dropped dead from a heart attack. What was so important that you had to turn your phone off, anyway?”