9. Nine
Nine
Flame
Waking up from another dream where Sabrina’s belly was swollen with my baby, I rub a hand over my cock and remind it of the promise we made before my brothers headed out of town.
No further intimacy while Ghost and Ruckus are out of town. It was necessary since we asked her to stay at our place. Ty left all of us uneasy. But a couple of days in and I’m struggling to play nice.
I feel cheated, having done the least with her.
My cock lengthens at the memory of her body shaking against my hand, at how natural Ruckus fit between her legs, and at the possibility Ghost put a baby in her.
I throw my pillow across the room. The soft thud is anti-climactic for how pissed I am that an arsonist may be the deciding factor in who gets Sabrina pregnant.
Not that we’re supposed to be doing that. But sexually active partners should be aware.
I drag myself into the bathroom and remind myself that she’s our stepsister, which is a huge hurdle for older generations, like the men who will determine our promotion, to accept.
Not to mention, she isn’t interested in us exactly. She was willing to settle for anyone who knew how to give an orgasm.
I’m oversimplifying, but my head’s fucked knowing that she’s in the bedroom down the hall.
Does she sleep naked? Why do I keep torturing myself? I turn on the water and step into the shower before it has a chance to heat up.
Once I get over the shock of my balls doing an about-face from the icy cold, I shower, dress, and find her in the kitchen eating a bowl of Krave cereal. Appropriate name. She’s fully dressed in my sweats and a t-shirt. That shouldn’t be disappointing. But dammit, I wish she was naked.
I might find my breaking point before Ghost and Ruckus get home. For now, we exchange pleasantries.
In the couple of days we’ve been playing house, I burned energy and time shoveling snow, but pretending nothing happened, forcing trite conversation over meals, and stealing away to our separate rooms is killing me. I’m almost glad it’s Monday.
I tell her, “I have to work today, but let me know if you need to run any errands.”
“Like getting a Christmas tree? Why don’t you have one? Or even decorations?”
“We don’t do that festive stuff.”
“Festive stuff… like celebrate Christmas?”
“What’s the point?”
“You’re kidding, right?” She seems stunned.
“I guess we got burned out—celebrating with Mom, then with Dad and your mom, then extended family stuff…”
“So the three of you don’t do anything?”
Seeing the light drain from her crushes me. “I’ll take you out to get a tree and decorations tonight if it will make you happy.”
“It would, and if I’m going to stay here, I need to get my own clothes and a few other things, like my laptop so I can keep working on my event-planning mini-courses.”
“Your courses, you’ve been at them for a while. How are they going?” I’m more than willing to change the subject.
“About five more months and I’ll be done. I’m doing a lot of networking with local vendors.”
“Why don’t you tell me all about it while we run to your place. I’ll take you before I start work.”
Not wanting to let her go alone, I drive her to her house. I scan the street as we approach. And when I go inside with her, I’m assessing every little detail. The perfectly aligned photos on the wall. The pottery she’s designed, thrown, and painted, is spaced evenly on her shelves. Colorful sticky notes are placed in a tidy square on her fridge.
But something is off. My investigative instincts kick in. The same ones that used to tell me when to pull my crew out of a burning building. The same ones that tell me which charred remnants to overturn in an investigation. The same ones that are about to take my career to the next level.
“Do you see my sketchbook?” she asks as she exits her bedroom.
I step toward an end table and point at a notebook teetering on top of a pencil—the only thing in the room that isn’t orderly.
Her expression falls as she picks the notebook and pencil up. “I don’t remember setting…” Her voice trails off, then after a moment, she adds, “I was sketching before the auction. When I realized how bad the roads were getting, I rushed out, probably set it down without thinking.”
I let her have the assessment. It’s reasonable.
My phone buzzes. A message from Ghost: Same accelerant signature as warehouse blaze. It appears a timer was used. Also have a new fire to investigate.
The warehouse is one of the fires we’ve pinned on Ty. A timer? That means Ty’s presence at the auction doesn’t preclude him from being a suspect.
Confirming that Sabrina has what she needs, I guide her to the car, fighting to keep my expression neutral. Whatever game Ty’s playing, he won’t get near her again.