Sinful Like Us (Like Us 5)

I smile into a flood of tears. “I’ve never needed to have ambition, and it’s taken me so long to reach this place. Years. And you’re the first person I wanted to tell.”

He sways at that realization, then cups my face, brushing away the wet streaks. “What else?”

It bursts my heart.

How well this man knows me.

How he knows when I have more to say.

“I don’t need a career to be a smart woman.” I go on. “I don’t need a job to be talented. I am both smart and possess talent, and the love that I give is just as important as the fashion empire my mom built. I am enough just as I am.”

It is so freeing, and I soar. He hoists me in his arms, my legs wrapping around him. My hands threaded behind his neck, and our foreheads nearly press together as we stare into each other.

Very deeply, he tells me, “I am in awe of you.”

Tears spill, and our breaths come fuller, timed together. “The feeling is mutual,” I whisper, thinking of his self-restraint with Tony. “You’re a good man.”

“You’re a better woman.”

I choke on emotion, and he cups my cheek and whispers, “Jane.”

Thatcher.

His name is inside a kiss, our lips colliding with slow-burning affection that floats me up another thousand feet high.

We can’t stay hidden in the broom closet for long. To be frank, we could easily be carried away and seal this moment with glorious sex. As we often do, but we’ve accepted house duties. Thatcher takes the third floor, as promised.

He pats my ass and moves past me.

I flush, my lips rising with my heart, and I continue on the second floor, clipboard in hand. Perhaps the year won’t end so sadly after all, and excitement carries me like a gust of wind. I’m dying to share my epiphany with my best friend now.

Like perfect happenstance, his bedroom is the next stop on my checklist. I can’t quell my smile. The door is shut, so I turn the knob and breeze inside.

“Moff—” My feet brake, body frozen in alarm.

Farrow is on top of Moffy, sheets unfortunately bunched at the foot of the bed, and his tattooed body bears down and welds against Maximoff’s back and…bottom, while Moffy sinks into the mattress. I can also unfortunately tell that they’re nearing the end of an intimate moment that I’m not supposed to see, one that I’ve so mortifyingly interrupted.

I’m too distraught and scarred to describe why I can tell.

Farrow immediately stops moving. He swings his head to me, breathing hard like he’s…well he is having sex, so… “Shit,” he curses.

He is very quick to toss a pillow at Moffy, blocking my cousin’s view of me, and then he whips up the green sheets. Covering themselves.

“I’m so…so sorry,” I squeak out.

Move, Jane.

I still have a massive flaw called the inability to divert from embarrassing situations. My eyes are popped and unable to close.

Please close.

“I thought you locked the door?” Maximoff speaks to Farrow, shifting out from under his fiancé.

“I did,” Farrow says, sounding truly certain.

I roast head-to-toe and force my feet to back up. Go to the door. I’m a voyeur here, and I don’t particularly love seeing a family member hot and heavy. “I’m so, so, so sorry.” I ramble out more deep apologies, and I reanimate more and lift my clipboard to my face.

Perfect.

I can’t see them.

I do my best to tune out their private conversation too, but I pick up a bit of the exchange.

“Are you okay?” Farrow whispers. “Wolf scout, hey, look at me.”

“Are you alright?” Maximoff replies with total concern. “You’re okay?”

Finally, I spin around and reach the door, and I’ve never been happier to clasp a knob. I tug and—oh God.

It breaks off the wood. Dislodging right from the door.

I gape wide-eyed at the brass knob in my hand. “No.”

No, no, no.

Frantic, I try to open the door without the knob, but it’s jammed into the frame. I rattle the wood, realizing that Farrow most likely did lock it earlier. But the door is old and worn and revolting on us all.

“Come on,” I say in distress, my pulse reeling. I pound a fist on the wood. “BANKS! Banks!” Please save me from embarrassment. Merci beaucoup.

Footsteps sound.

My archangel. He’s arrived.

“Jane, what’s wrong?” Shadows flit beneath the door. He must be right outside the room. “Talk to me, honey.”

Shock has my tongue, but I breathe out. “I accidentally walked in on Maximoff and Farrow, and I’m trying to leave and the knob broke, and now I’m trapped in this room.”

“Hold on. I’ll get you out of there.” He works on wedging open the door from his side.

My panic begins to recede. I think of the time I saw Donnelly giving Luna head, and I wince. “I can’t believe this is happening again.”

“Again?” Farrow repeats, coming up beside me to check the door. His barbell piercing ratchets up with his brows.

Thank God he’s dressed. Drawstring pants hang low on his waist, inked sparrows in view on his hips.

I’m so discombobulated about this entire situation that I don’t even realize what I said or what he’s questioning. Not until he asks, “Isn’t this the only time you’ve walked in on us?” He combs back his sweaty platinum hair.

Oh.

Oh.

“Yes,” I emphasize. “Yes. I’ve prided myself on never seeing you two…like that. And now that streak has ended.” My entire face radiates heat.

I glance over at Moffy.

He’s in gray sweatpants, and he pulls a Harvard shirt over his head. He looks as mortified as me, but neither of us shies awa

y—and I try to make light of the awkward run-in.

“You looked very comfortable,” I note. “And very pleased by what Farrow was doing, which is to say that you must really trust him…” I’m on fire.

Maximoff smiles a little bit.

Possibly I haven’t made this worse.

I nod repeatedly. “I’m so, so sorry.” It wells up inside of me.

“It’s okay, Janie.” He licks his lips, then gestures to his head. “I’m just processing…it’s a lot.”

“I know.” I wince. “And Thatcher and I will absolutely let you two walk in on us to even the playing field.”

“Jane,” Thatcher says strongly on the other side of the door.

He’s not thrilled at that idea.

I waft my sweater.

“I’ll pass on that,” Farrow says easily. He tries to figure out the door situation, communicating with Thatcher for a minute. They work together, but the door isn’t unsticking.

Thatcher finally says, “It’s not coming down without removing the hinges. I’ll need tools or I can kick it in.”

As much as I’d rather flee quickly, I don’t want to destroy the owner’s house. “Don’t break it. I think there’s a toolkit in the laundry room.”

“I’ll be right back.” He pauses. “Jane?”

“Yes?”

“You’ll be okay?” He must know the ditch I’ve dug, and I’d want him to stay but I want to be in his arms more.

“Oui.”

I can feel his towering presence leave, and I look over my shoulder.

Maximoff stands off the bed, confusion in his green eyes. “I still don’t get why you said this has happened again.”

I turn, facing him fully, my clipboard pressed to my lips. I can’t lie to Moffy. Our friendship is one of complete transparency. We tell each other everything.

We often share secrets quickly. Almost immediately. Guilt overturns my stomach because I’ve kept one from him for weeks on end.

For Luna’s sake.

I think he’ll understand why I did, but his reaction to this news is what Luna feared. He will go 3/4ths Uncle Loren, and Luna doesn’t want to know how their overprotective dad might respond to her hookup.

But I’m about to see.