The CEO's Seduction (A Hamilton Family 1)

And, more importantly, she didn’t need Brett Ross.

Chapter Six

Later that night, Brett lay in bed alone, glaring at the ceiling. He couldn’t see the damn thing without his contacts or glasses, but that didn’t stop him from giving it the evil eye. How many times would he replay that damn kiss in the library? Every time he closed his eyes, he felt her body against his and her lips.

And he couldn’t shake how right it had felt.

How right she’d felt.

What would it be like to be good enough for a girl like her? What kind of man deserved Anna Hamilton? Cursing inwardly, he shook his head at himself.

Picking up his phone, he checked the time.

Three in the morning.

If he didn’t get to sleep soon, he would be an actual zombie come morning. Maybe he could sneak downstairs and grab a quick shot or two of whiskey.

When he stepped out of his room, he frowned at Anna’s door. Even now, he was tempted to see if it was locked or not. The memory of her skin touching his flashed through his mind, and he took a sharp turn for the stairs. He needed a damn drink.

Or five.

However many it took to get her off his mind.

When he reached Mr. Hamilton’s office, he opened the heavy library door and closed it behind him silently, leaning against the intricately carved wood, right where he’d kissed Anna earlier. He always felt out of place in this room. Its opulence fairly shouted of money, and he’d never had any of his own growing up.

Even now, with more money than he knew what to do with besides give it all away to orphanages and other such places to help kids like himself, he didn’t feel right standing here clothed in his pajama pants and glasses. Smoothing his hair, he stepped into the moonlight and crossed the room to the window, where all the expensive liquor was kept. Last time he’d slept in this house he had been eighteen. He, Christopher, and Wyatt had drunk his father’s best scotch, and had gotten their asses grounded for it.

Well, Wyatt and Christopher had.

Brett’s aunt and uncle had simply shrugged and returned to their own perfect little life where they didn’t have to deal with the rebellious teenage burden of a nephew they’d been cursed with. But really, had he expected anything different from them?

Nowadays, he only heard from them when they wanted something from him. Money. Cars. Vacations. He gave it to them every damn time.

But it was never enough.

They always came back for more.

He didn’t like showing weakness to anyone, and his family—or lack thereof—definitely fell under his weaknesses. They were part of the reason he was the way he was. He’d never been shown love by the only family he had, so he’d learned to live without it. He preferred it that way. It was clean. Easy. It was all he knew.

What would happen to Anna if he slept with her? Would he be able to fuck her and leave her, like he did with all the other women who visited his life? Would he even want to walk away from her? Somehow he doubted he would, and it scared the hell out of him. And that right there was the goddamned truth.

Anna scared him.

The way he felt about her was terrifying.

Never once had he backed down from a challenge in his life. When Christopher dared him to moon the principal, he’d done it. When the time to take over his father’s company came, he’d stepped behind the desk despite his paralyzing fear that he would ultimately fail. And he hadn’t failed. In fact, he was good at it. He’d increased profits, and the value of his stocks had skyrocketed since he took over as CEO. His employees liked him. People had job security and valuable 401(k)s. He had a penthouse, and nice cars, and enough money to buy anything he needed, or wanted, and…and…

It wasn’t enough.

With Anna, he wanted more.

All this time he had been convincing himself that he refused to touch her only because of a promise he had made as a child, but that wasn’t the whole story. He couldn’t touch her because if he did…he might never be able to stop. He couldn’t touch her because deep down, he was aware that he didn’t deserve her.

What would it be like to be the guy who did?

What was it like in his shoes?

He slammed down the empty glass, his head more than a little fuzzy, angry at himself for even wondering about stupid shit like this. “You’re an idiot.”

“How long are you going to stand there talking to yourself, drinking my dad’s best whiskey?” Wyatt asked.

Brett searched the shadows for his friend.

Judging from his voice, he sat on the couch on the opposite side of the room next to the empty fireplace. “How long have you been there?”

The other man chuckled. “Long enough to know you’re looking to get wasted and forget about something. Am I right?”