Hothouse Flower (Calloway Sisters 2)

I would have fucked her in the stairwell if Connor and Lo weren’t here right now.

And then I’d fuck her again on the bed.

But this heightens everything. Drawing it out will make our first time even better. And I want it to be so fucking amazing.

I glance from her breasts to her eyes. She registers the signal and crosses her arms over her chest, her face heating already. “This almost never happens to me,” she says under her breath.

“Stop imagining me fucking you,” I breathe, “and maybe it won’t.” I brush a flyaway hair out of her face.

She smiles like I guessed her thoughts correctly. “That doesn’t sound fun.” She glances at my brother again who stands up with his toiletry kit. “Birth control?” she asks.

“Front pocket of my bag.” I take a couple steps away from her, and I flip through a room service menu on the end table.

My brother leaves the bathroom door open while he brushes his teeth, and Daisy unzips my duffel bag. Connor watches her, glancing from his laptop screen to Daisy kneeling on the ground.

Before he asks questions, she says, “Who’s sleeping in the bed?”

“You,” he tells her.

“That’s stupid. Ryke and Lo can share the bed, and I’ll take the chair tonight.”

“No,” I say at the same time as my brother, who shouts from the bathroom.

“I don’t want to waste the whole bed.”

Connor adds, “Ryke can share the bed with you. Problem solved.” He types with speed, his eyes not leaving his computer screen. “What talents I have.”

Lo peeks through the doorway, his toothbrush in his mouth. “Did you smoke a bowl on the plane? Because you’ve got to be goddamn high to put her in bed with my brother while we’re in the room.”

“I didn’t say anything about sex.” He stops typing. “I don’t want to watch that any more than you do.”

Daisy’s cheeks redden. Fucking fantastic. I forgot she saw his porn tape. I shut the menu. That’s not particularly something I want to imagine.

I run my hand through my hair. “I’m going to sleep on the floor. It’s not a big deal.”

“Of course. You probably feel at home lower to the ground,” Connor says with a growing smile.

Lo won’t stick up for me where Connor is concerned. If someone else said that to me, maybe. But I’m just supposed to take Connor’s shit because he’s Connor. “Fuck off,” I tell him, not even wanting to waste time on a good retort.

This just makes Connor gloat more.

Lo retreats to the bathroom, turning on the faucet.

I watch Daisy. She keeps her hands within the fucking duffel pocket, and the only time it comes out is to pop a pill in her mouth. She quickly zips it back and stands up.

Connor catches her, and he stares between us in suspicion. “What’d you just take?” he asks her, his voice quiet, which means he’s at least nice enough not to alert my brother.

“Advil,” she lies too easily. “I have cramps.” She slides into the bed without another word. I can tell that Connor doesn’t believe her. If there’s anyone who can see through Daisy like me, it’s him. But he goes back to his work, not uncomfortable by anything she said. But my brother is. I watch him linger in the bathroom a little longer.

I find her Ambien in the end table drawer, and I dole out two pills and hand them to her. She glances at Connor, but he’s busying himself, no longer interested.

I pass her a water bottle, and she hesitantly accepts it. Her paranoid gaze flickers to the balcony door.

“I’ll lock up,” I whisper so Connor can’t hear. “But you have to fucking trust that no one is going to hide in the bathroom.” There’s nothing I can do about that door.

She nods. “Okay.” She sits up on her elbows, her gaze on my lips.

I can’t kiss her right now. Because I can already tell with us, a kiss won’t stop at one fucking kiss. It’ll last five minutes, and we can’t afford that with my brother here.

I surprise her by running my hand slowly from her hipbone to the side of her ribs to her breast—all above her thin tank top. My muscles tighten as she stiffens in arousal, especially as I skim my thumb over her hard nipple.

I’ve suppressed myself from doing something like this for so long. It’s a fucking one-eighty to even go this far. The adrenaline rush is dizzying my fucking head. I watch her slender body, on the bed, lighting up underneath my hand. It grips my cock, and stopping is harder than ever before.

But I imagine my brother.

Beating my face in.

It helps. Somewhat. But I also imagine her with another guy. And that stops me from thinking this is so wrong. Turn back now, Ryke.

I won’t ever turn back.

This is it for me. I want to make this fucking work as best I can.

Her mouth falls, a heavy breath escaping. And then she smiles so fucking bright.

I take my hand off her as soon as I sense my brother returning to the room. Daisy is so flushed that she turns into her pillow to collect herself.

I love watching her feel those sensations—especially after hearing how much she’s been denied them. I want to put her in a state of euphoria more than anything.

I leave her so I can secure the balcony door. The lock is pathetic, nothing more than a turn of a latch. No wonder she hasn’t been fucking sleeping. After that, I head to the entrance, locking the deadbolt and sliding the chain across. When I turn around, Connor’s eyes flicker up from the computer.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Sara is making waves again,” Connor says.

“My mom has already caused a fucking tsunami, so whatever waves she’s making, I don’t really want to hear about it.”

Connor flashes me his phone, not letting me ignore this. I grab the damn thing from his hand. The headline of an article reads: Tell-All Interview with Sara Hale Coming Soon on 60 Minutes.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I say, glaring at the image of my mother, sitting with her legs crossed on a chair against a navy blue backdrop. I have my father’s dark hair, not hers. She’s been described as a Julia Roberts lookalike with golden-brown locks, her nose a little sharp. She’s originally from a poor town of New Jersey, a fighter, she used to call herself when she yelled at my dad on the phone.

“Do you know where I came from?” she would sneer. “If I got here from nothing, you think I can’t stay here and protect my son from you? I’m a fighter. I’m going to do everything I can to keep my head above water. If you don’t believe that, then think again, Jonathan. Think again!”

She’s a woman who can’t let go of a fucking grudge.

I examine the fine print of the article, detailing the interview to come.

Sara opens up about her marital problems with Jonathan Hale, her recent fallout with son, Ryke Meadows, and her plea to reconnect with Ryke. She also discusses the allegations regarding Loren Hale, and in a preview clip, she says, “Through the twelve years that I was with Jonathan, he was nothing but verbally and mentally abusive. The trauma my own son went through with his father…I won’t ever forgive Jonathan for what he’s done.”

“Don’t break my phone, please,” Connor says in a controlled voice. “That’s my lifeline to my wife.”

I’m gripping his cell so hard that I do almost crack the screen. I toss it back to him, my muscles on fire. “Now they think Jonathan traumatized me,” I say with the shake of my head. How can this be my life?

Connor slips his phone in his pocket. “The article could have spun one of her lines. It’s fragmented. Don’t get upset until you watch the interview.”

I shake my head. “Whatever.” I take a few trained breaths, and it returns to normal. But I’d love to go fucking hit something right now. I need the gym, to just pour my energy and this pressure somewhere healthy instead of keeping it in my chest.

I glance back at Daisy. She tries to force her drowsy eyes open, watching me from the bed, her head on the pillow.

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nbsp; “I wish people were nicer,” she says softly before yawning.

Me fucking too.

RYKE MEADOWS

I can’t sleep.

Not when I know what’s going to happen.

She tosses and turns underneath her covers, kicking an invisible fucking enemy. And then around 5:00 a.m., she starts screaming. She shoots up, her eyes snapped open, and she thrashes, scurrying back towards the headboard and swatting at the air.

Her high-pitched shrieks blister my ears and instantly wake up Connor and Lo. I’m already on my feet, by her side while she stares off, focused on something that I can’t see, on something that’s not there.

She’s still asleep.

That’s the scary fucking part.

“What the hell?” Lo says, rising with Connor.

“Daisy, Daisy,” I try, but I know it’s fucking useless. She’ll wake up when she’s ready. I slide on the bed, kneeling, and I reach out to hold her, but her fist flies at my shoulder, punching me hard, like I’m the attacker.

“Get away!” she screams, fear pulsing in her big green eyes. “Leave me alone! Just leave me alone! I don’t want this! I don’t want this!” Terrified fucking tears pour down her cheeks.

Fucking A.

Lo rushes to the bed. “Daisy?! What the hell…” He climbs on the bed while she screams and cries, kicking back so quickly that the sheets bunch at her feet. She clutches the mattress beside her. Lo stands up on the bed and tries to pick her up underneath the arms.

She wails on him the moment he touches her, kicking and whipping her fists every which way. Lo raises his hands in the air in surrender and glances at me. “What the fuck?”

I stand up with him on the bed, towering over her. I smack his chest slightly with my hand. “She’s still fucking asleep.”