Chapter 4
Haden
I’m in Tiago’s RV, unpacking my suitcase, when there’s a knock at the door. It’s getting late, so I’m kind of surprised.
Somehow, I managed to survive dinner without making a fool out of myself. It was difficult. This job is going to be a daily challenge if Emilia keeps hanging around me. I can’t focus properly when she’s in my space. It’s embarrassing how distracting she is.
I let that little jitterbug lead me around the mansion for the entire afternoon for no other reason than wanting to be near her. I put on a good show of inspecting ridiculous details in dozens of rooms.
None of that was necessary. I already know where I need to start. The most emergent aspects of the mansion were apparent in minutes—ensuring the electrical grid is not dangerous and getting those fucking windows to open. If there were ever a fire, everyone would be trapped in their rooms.
And yes. Now I understand why nearly every one of them calls it a monstrosity. There’s no better word. If it weren’t a historic landmark and owned by the Wilde heirs, I would suggest it be torn down. It’s going to cost more to renovate the place than it’s worth.
The problem is that it doesn’t need to have financial value.
It’s their family home. Perhaps a few months ago, most of the heirs would have agreed with me and let it be plowed under, but Ryder and Tiago have been here three months.
They’re invested. The house has grown on them.
I wouldn’t dare suggest it be destroyed.
Apparently, money is no object, nor is time, so I’ll do everything I can to turn it into a masterpiece.
To be honest, I’m nearly giddy at the idea.
Renovating the Wilde mansion will be the most important job of my entire life.
If I ever finish it, I’ll have the finest resumé in the country.
But even after one afternoon, I can already tell that the inhabitants are correct.
That place has already sucked me in and doesn’t want to let me go.
So has the sexy jitterbug who doesn’t seem to have any real conviction about heading back to college anytime soon.
Another knock at the door jars me from my musings. I rush over and answer it, expecting it to be Brody checking on me.
It’s not Brody, though. It’s Emilia.
Damn. She takes my breath away. She’s standing on the ground a few feet below the door. It’s still hotter than hell outside, but a slight breeze catches her hair and blows it around behind her. It picks up her skirt, too, causing her to grab it with her hands and smooth it down.
“Hi,” she says in her soft voice. “I just thought it would be polite to see if you need anything.”
It’s the worst idea in the history of ideas, but nevertheless, I step back and hold the flimsy door open. “Come in.”
The RV is small. Tiago explained that he’d been using it as a bachelor pad for a few years, traveling around the country to sell his art in different studios. It wasn’t really meant to be a place to live indefinitely, but for the foreseeable future, it’s my home.
Yes, I could choose a room in the mansion. Everyone has made that super clear. Anytime I want to, I’m welcome to move inside. But it’s quiet out here, and from what I’ve heard, there is a lot of sex happening in that house. I think I’d want to run for the hills if I overheard people moaning.
The bubbly ray of sunshine bounces into my haven, a smile on her face. She’s fidgeting, though, wringing her hands together in front of her as she looks around. “It’s so small.”
I shrug as I shut the door. “I don’t need much. It’s just a place to sleep. The mattress is decent. It has a bathroom with a shower. To be honest, it’s newer than any room in that giant house.”
She giggles. “I guess that’s true.” She tucks her hair behind her ears. “So, you’re all set? You don’t need anything?”
“I’m all set.” I watch her as she looks around. She didn’t need to come out here. I wondered if she was flirting with me all day. Now I’m certain of it, and I need to nip this in the bud.
There are things about me that Emilia does not know. Even though I’d love to grab her around the waist, toss her onto my bed, and ravage her, I would never do that. She’s so innocent and pure. And fucking young. Twenty-two. Far too fucking young for an old guy like me.
Okay, age might not be the most important factor at play.
But experience is. I bet she has limited experience with sex.
Probably none. The list of people she’s been with is undoubtedly short and only includes boys.
Men who were her age or younger. Dudes that young don’t have a fucking clue what they’re doing in bed, which means Emilia isn’t ready for the likes of me.
She’s stalling, though. I know this because she turns and wanders the few feet between the middle of this RV and the front. Her floral scent is filling my space now. It’s not going to leave with her. I’m going to end up inhaling her essence all fucking night.
When she pauses, facing the small sink at the window, her fingers trailing along the edge of the tiny counter, I move toward her.
I can’t stop myself. Suddenly, I have three goals in mind.
One, get closer to her so that every breath draws more of her into me, giving me something to think about while I jerk off in the shower after she’s gone.
Two, lay my thoughts out so it’s clear that she needs to stay away from me for her own good.
And three, scare her a little with my dominance.
Surely that will cause her to think twice about flirting with a forty-year-old man.
I love the way her breath hitches the moment I set my hands on either side of her, pinning her against the counter. My cock wasn’t supposed to jump to attention with this maneuver, but it does anyway.
Inhaling deeply, I bury my nose in her silky hair. If this is the one and only time I’m going to be this close to Emilia, I’m going to make it count.
“Jitterbug… I think you’ve been flirting with me.”
She whimpers.
Fuck. Me. My cock grows larger. This wasn’t in the plan. I’m supposed to be getting her out of my system. Not letting her in deeper. But that sweet noise…
I fight the urge to groan. “You need to stop. I’m too old for you.”
“That’s…” She swallows. “That’s ridiculous. Every couple in this house has a giant age gap.”
She’s right. Bad argument. “You’re Brody’s sister. He didn’t invite me here to make a move on you. I don’t think he would appreciate the age gap.”
“He, of all people, can’t say shit. He’s seventeen years older than his wife.”
“Tsk. Tsk. Such a potty mouth.” Why the fuck am I reprimanding her? This isn’t the first time I’ve done so, either. I threatened to spank her in the library. I need to slow things down and control my fucking tongue.
Emilia sets her hands on top of mine, where they rest at the edge of the counter. “I’m not a child, Haden. I wasn’t even a kid when we met. I just graduated from college. Do you think I don’t cuss?”
I grin against her hair, my lips inches from her neck. She’s so sassy. It would make me hard if I weren’t already as fucking hard as stone. “Jitterbug, I’m not right for you.”
“How do you know?” she challenges.
“I have eighteen years of life experiences you do not have. You don’t know anything about me. You’re far too innocent for the likes of me.” I hate admitting that, but it’s true.
“You don’t know that. Maybe I’ve had sex with ten men.”
I smile again. “Emilia, that’s exactly my point. It doesn’t matter how many people you’ve slept with. They were boys. Not men. They couldn’t possibly have known their way around a woman’s body. I doubt any of the boys you’ve been with could find a clitoris with a flashlight.”
Her breath hitches again, and she shifts her weight. I’ve struck a nerve. I know I’m right.
“So… why don’t you show me what it’s like to be with a man?”
Fuck, she’s bold. She may look sweet, but she’s not afraid to ask for what she wants, and damn if it’s not sexy as all hell. She’s not making this easy.
“Here’s the thing, Emilia, my tastes are far kinkier than you’re ready for.
You may never be into the kinds of things I want from a woman.
You’d probably faint if I showed you how I like to fuck.
” I might be pushing things a bit too far, but I need to nip this in the bud, and now.
I cannot let something start between us.
I don’t know what Brody might say, but I don’t want to find out, either.
She squirms, pressing her sweet body back against mine. “Show me,” she repeats, her voice husky.
Her response is unexpected, and I’m too stunned to react at first. Finally, I groan as I push off the counter. I don’t step back. I step closer, pressing her belly against the cabinet. I fist my hand in her fucking soft hair and tug so she’s forced to tip her head back, elongating her neck.
Her eyes are wide, and her jaw drops. When I slide my other hand up to her neck, she grabs my forearm with both hands. She’s not scared, though. Not like she should be. Instead, she’s aroused. Her eyes are glassy with lust. She’s not struggling to get away from me. She’s fucking turned on.
This was not part of the plan. The idea was to put a bit of fear into her, make her see that I’m too kinky for her. It’s backfiring on me.
Surely I can talk her out of this infatuation.
“I’m a Dominant, Emilia. I don’t date vanilla women.
When I fuck, I fuck hard. I do it with women who like it that way.
Women who beg me to fuck them. Usually, I meet them at a fetish club and we scene together several times before I take them to bed.
I need to be sure they not only know what they’re getting into with me but that they crave the same thing. ”
Her mouth slowly closes, and she licks her full lips. “Okay. I’m not as innocent as you think.”
My brows shoot to the ceiling. I release her to spin her around so fast she sways.
This time, I grab her waist, shuffle her toward the door, and flatten her to the surface.
I lift her hands over her head and clasp both wrists with one of mine before cupping her face with my other hand to steady her. “Pardon?”
She’s trembling, but she’s still holding my gaze. She’s still not scared. Not of me or my dominance. Is it because she trusts me? Because she shouldn’t. “I mean, I’ve read books,” she murmurs. “Romance novels. I know what a Dominant is.”
My nostrils flare when I inhale. I set my forehead against hers, adding a bit of tenderness to my posture. “Jitterbug…” Does she think reading a few romance books would prepare her for a demanding Dom like me?
“I’ve been lusting after you for four years.
You are not going to scare me away with your bossy words and firm grip.
In fact, I’ve never been so turned on in my life.
I didn’t even know it was possible. I think I nearly came when you grabbed my hair.
If you force me to walk out of here right now, I’ll never forget the sensation of having your hand around my neck, your fist in my hair, your palm holding my wrists, your thumb stroking my jaw.
I’m now ruined for all other men, and you haven’t even kissed me. ”
Fuck. Me.
Fuckme.
I close my eyes and moan.
This is not how this was supposed to go. I intended to scare her a bit, make her run back into the mansion, give her just enough of my dominant side to get her to stop looking at me longingly.
My plan has totally backfired.
And I’m so fucking turned on.
She swallows. “My brothers are Dominants. Surely you know that. You’ve known Brody for years, and Dallas for almost as long.
Fuck, every man in this house is a Dominant to some extent.
I’ve been stuck in this mansion for six weeks, watching the testosterone level grow to heights I did not know were possible.
If I had any doubts about my submissive side before I arrived, they’ve been dissipated.
It’s fucking hot, and it would be a whole lot hotter if I weren’t related to any of the men in that damn house.
But now you’re here. You’re not my brother or my cousin. ”
I stare into her eyes, dumbfounded and uncertain what to do next.
“Show me.” Her words are filled with lust and urgency.
Once again, fuck.