Filthy Lies (Blackstone Dynasty 2)

She cleared her throat softly, bringing my delectable little eye-fuck to a crashing halt.

Our eyes met and held. What did she think of me staring at her mostly naked? This girl told me she loved me several times last night. Did she really love me? Did the heat of some well-delivered orgasms she didn't even remember change that? Had she meant it when she said it?

God, I hoped so.

"I'll let you finish dressing while I run upstairs and get what I need to take today." Which was code for: I really want to help you out of your sexy lingerie and spend the day giving you more orgasms, but I know I can't, so I'm leaving right now.

She nodded once and asked, "What are you taking?"

"Flowers for my mom, a bottle of Bowmore 25 for my father, and…you." I kissed her on the forehead because I couldn't help myself.

She stilled when my lips touched her skin.

I inhaled the luscious scent of her, and got the fuck out of her bedroom before I did or said anything else.

Those two little kids loved her. Shane and Brenna. Winter loved them, too. Anyone could look at them together and see the mutual bond. When we arrived at the youth center, I held my tongue at the less-than desirable location in Roxbury. I knew Brooke volunteered once a week now Winter had brought her aboard, and Caleb made sure his girl came and went with his driver, Isaac, who had standing orders to stay and wait the whole time she was there. I wondered what Caleb thought of his sister being at the youth center on the other days all alone. If he wouldn't let his girlfriend do it, then why was he okay with Winter coming here? I wouldn't let Victoria come here alone. Mind you, she'd fight me on it, so I'd simply bring Clay into the fight.

I'd have to broach the subject with him in a way that didn't bring attention to my interest in her. Winter would not be happy with sanctions on her freedom, but if it wasn't safe for her to drive in on her own, then too fucking bad. Her safety was far more important to me than her displeasure.

"Did you hurt your hand, Miss Winter?" the little girl asked curiously with a gentle pat on the bandage. The boy, Shane, looked up at her expectantly from the other side. Both of them rushed toward her the moment we walked into the large room full of homeless and otherwise, people living out the not-so-great American dream and scarfing down free turkey and stuffing. The kids were cute, in a disheveled way. They appeared mostly clean, but there was definitely a look of neglect about them. They looked like children who didn't have anyone taking care of them, which was probably pretty accurate from what Winter had told me. How do they get here? Safely? They're so…small.

I watched as she gave them hugs, and then bustled them over to what looked like a classroom of sorts—probably where kids did their homework when they used the center after school. There was a poster of multiplication facts, and a few others with things like basic grammar rules and the periodic table stuck to the walls. Plastic tubs with pencils and crayons, and what I guessed were art supplies, were stacked neatly on a rolling cart. The whiteboard had a smiling turkey drawn on it with HAPPY THANKSGIVING written as a greeting. Despite the shabbiness of the space, it was comfortable, and probably a much more enticing place to be than wherever the kids "lived" with their train-wreck "families."

Winter seemed to be going for somewhere a little more private and away from where people were eating as she sat on a sofa and settled the kids on either side of her. She placed the container of cookies on the small table in front of the sofa but didn't open it.

"Yes, I had an accident in my kitchen last night, and that's why I'm late today. My friend helped me get here, because I promised to bring you something." The kids looked at me in acknowledgement as I gave them a smile and a clown wave. They turned their attention right back to Winter as if to say, yeah, you brought her to us, and now your work is done, buddy.

"What did you do?" Shane asked.

"I burned my hand on a hot pan and also cut myself with a sharp knife," Winter answered honestly. She censored her story enough to convey the facts without making it sound too terrifying. I was impressed with how good she was at communicating with six-year-old humans, if I remembered their age correctly.

Someday she will make an amazing mom.

My father's edict crashed into my peaceful observations unwanted, stealing the good thoughts away from me. I hated that he held the power to ruin something pure and good in an instant.

Don't let him.

"Your kitchen is a very dangerous place, Miss Winter," Brenna said, her brother nodding vigorously in agreement. It certainly was last night, kid. "Did your boyfriend put this on you?" she asked, touching the bandage with the tip of her finger.

"Oh, he's not—" Winter blushed as we shared brief eye contact. "My f-friend, Mr. James took me to the doctor who put it on me." She focused her attention back on the children and their questions, but I could tell she was flustered.

Winter flustered…another fucking turn-on. God.

I also had a craving for Brenna's innocent comment to be true.

If two little kids were making her nervous asking if we were a couple, then whatever shit my father might insinuate later on today might send her screaming for the hills. She would need reassuring. And I would give it to her.

"Well, he's a boy." Brenna gave me a sideways glance. "And you said he's your friend, so he's your boyfriend, right?" This small girl was not going to let it go apparently.

Winter still looked beautifully flustered, and my cock was still throbbing when I decided to take control of the situation. "That's right. I am her boyfriend."

"My mommy has boyfriends, but not a nice man like you."

Her comment delivered a blow that hit me right in the heart. "How do you know I'm a nice man?" I asked.

"You don't yell, and you talk in a good way to Miss Winter." Winter and I shared a glance, both of us probably thinking about the reasons she would frame her evaluation of my "niceness" in such a way. Probably didn't have much experience with men speaking in a "good" way if what Winter suspected about the mom was true. I couldn't imagine Brenna and Shane, two innocent kids with their whole lives ahead of them, being subjected to such desperate conditions, but it was staring me right in the face regardless. Life was a shitty existence for more people than it was a good one.

"Is your mom here with you?" I wanted to get a look at this woman and make up my own mind.