Chapter 29
twenty-nine
HANNAH
“You’re not close with your brother.” Beau pointed out the obvious as I was getting ready for bed.
He was perched on the edge of the tub, watching me, as was his ritual. He watched me do everything he could—bar a couple of private, personal things that I was thankful he did not have a kink about.
It seemed he couldn’t get enough of seeing me in his space. Which I understood now that I was allowed to look at him. Naked. Now that I was allowed to kiss him. Shower with him. Hold his freaking hand. I did all of those things as often as I could too.
I dabbed cream under my eyes. My personal care routine was minute.
Correction, it had been minute.
Last week, Lori had been over—as she often was. Even more since Beau and I became “official.” He urged me to treat the house like my own, to invite Lori over. I knew he also liked watching over her; he felt protective of my pregnant best friend, especially after what happened.
It was after Clara went to bed. Lori and I were watching our favorite reality show, Beau was in the kitchen making tea.
He fussed over the both of us like a hen, not masking his need to be around me, to take care of me.
It didn’t feel suffocating or possessive—I knew all too well what that was like. He gave us space but happily lounged in an armchair reading on his Kindle if Lori invited him to sit.
I found it hard to concentrate on my friend when he did that, though, because it was almost certain he was reading something spicy, ready to recreate it later that night.
That evening, we’d been talking about skincare, since Lori had a long list of things she couldn’t use while pregnant. I’d mentioned, offhand, that being on a budget was a good way for a simple skincare routine to be established. Maybe I’d mentioned I wanted more, I couldn’t exactly remember.
All I knew was the very next evening, neatly lined up, had been a collection of not cheap new skincare.
“I had Calliope’s help,” Beau had murmured sheepishly from behind me in the bathroom.
I wondered if he’d had her black card too, because this stuff was pricey. Like insane. I’d had samples of a few of these, scraping out the last drops. They were heavenly.
“This is too much.” I’d turned to Beau.
“It’s not. It’s your things, littered over my sink.” Beau had stepped forward, slipping his large palm underneath my camisole to cup my breast.
I’d leaned into the touch, my head landing on his shoulder.
“It’s a gift to me,” he spoke against my neck, tweaking my nipple. “One request… Don’t you ever change your fucking vanilla moisturizer.” When his other hand had gone beneath the waistband of my shorts, my argument about him spending money on toiletries was forgotten.
My current nighttime routine was luxurious, dreamy. Especially with Beau watching.
Though not so much when the conversation involved my brother. Who was sleeping in my old room because Clara had insisted.
“No, we’re not close,” I answered.
I put the tube of eye cream down before turning back to face Beau, leaning on the sink.
He didn’t need to speak for me to see the question on his face.
He’d respect me, if I wanted to leave it at that, but I could feel his yearning for information.
I had some of my own. To know all the details about his life, his past. To be the only person in the world to possess intimate, painful details about him.
“We’ve never really been close.” I reached for body cream so I had something to do with my hands. “He’s older. My dad was around long enough to form memories of him. My mom favored him.” I shrugged. “Not that that meant a whole lot in our world. He got more food than me, better bedding.”
I tried to say it all in a flat tone, but my voice caught. Jack had started making amends tonight, but that didn’t wash away the past.
Beau was stock-still, face already a mask of fury. My overprotective man.
“Sometimes, a traumatic upbringing brings siblings closer together, when all they have is each other,” I continued. “Other times, it pushes them onto separate islands.”
Beau glowered in the direction of the guest room as if he wanted to shoot laser beams through the wall. “You are seven years younger than him,” he bit out. “You didn’t choose to be on any fucking island.”
I smiled sadly. “No. And he did what he could to protect me, but at the end of the day, he was a kid. And he left when he got the chance. He knew if he stayed where he was, with the people he was hanging around with, he’d end up in jail or dead.”
“And what about you?” Beau snarled.
“I survived.” I put down the moisturizer. “And I’m here. With you. So it all worked out.”
I meant it. Without all the struggle I’d gone through, I wouldn’t have needed to take a year off to finance nursing school. Wouldn’t have found my way to Beau and Clara.
Unthinkable.
I watched Beau’s jaw work in fury and frustration, mulling over what I’d said and understanding that in a way, I was right.
“I’d give up all the happiness you give me if it meant you got to live a life where you were protected, happy. Had a fucking good childhood.”
My brain short-circuited. I drew in a deep breath.
“I wouldn’t,” I said honestly. “I would go through what I went through ten times over to make my way to you. To Clara.”
Beau pushed off the tub, and in a second, I was in his arms. There was a dull clatter as various products fell into the sink.
“You better not have broken any of those,” I whispered, our mouths inches apart.
My body was already singing for him, desperate for him, despite the emotional subject matter we’d just discussed.
“I don’t give a fuck,” Beau grunted, easily lifting me with one hand while divesting me of my panties and shorts with the other. “I’ll buy you new ones.”
“You definitely don’t know how much they cost then,” I chuckled. But my smile was stolen by a gasp of pleasure as Beau’s finger entered me, setting my ass on the cool porcelain of the sink.
“Soaking,” he growled. “Good. I don’t have time to prepare you. I need to be inside you. To the fucking hilt after hearing you say that.”
I got no warning except for his words. After that, there was the rattle of his belt, and then he slammed into me, bottoming out.
His hand at my back kept me pressed to him, lips swallowing my screams of pleasure.
“Gotta be quiet, baby,” he murmured, hurtling into me again.
I sank my teeth into my lip to swallow a cry of pleasure. Beau was right. We’d been mindful but not overly worried about being heard by Clara, not with the music she played to sleep to every night and her sleeping like the dead.
My brother, though… My fucking brother was there, so we had to be quiet.
I was surprisingly turned on by the act of Beau covering my mouth with his hand to smother my cries.
It felt forbidden, but in the best way, playing into my dirtier fantasies. Beau, the older man, fucking me in the bathroom like a sordid secret.
Like he was going mad for me.
And I for him.
“I love you so. Fucking. Much,” Beau rasped in my ear, his words matching his thrusts.
I thought about it. Saying it back. I was almost brave enough. Almost ready to admit this was it. Forever.
That I was safe.
Almost.
But I let Beau’s kiss swallow my words.
Not yet.
Soon.
BEAU
Crisp air bit at my cheeks. Steam billowed from my mug of tea as I put it down on the wide arm of the chair beside me, my breath coming out in visible puffs.
Hannah had made me the tea before going to put Clara to bed. She used extra honey. She always did.
She’d quietly thanked me for the day—the one when I didn’t kick her brother to the curb. When I’d dutifully let my daughter show him around Jupiter, when I’d even let the fucker have dinner at the restaurant.
Hannah didn’t have to thank me. I would do anything to make my girls happy.
Clara was ecstatic at having another member of the family.
Of Hannah’s family. Hannah wasn’t exactly convinced of her brother’s newfound need for connection or forgiveness.
Yeah, he’d made the right steps in admitting he was wrong, leaving a toxic woman, but she was tentative. As she should’ve been.
He could still hurt her. And although my first instinct was to kick the fucker out in the cold to ensure that Hannah wouldn’t get hurt again, I resisted. It wasn’t my place.
He was leaving tomorrow. First thing. Thank fuck.
Jack had been curt around me. He didn’t trust me.
It pissed me off.
Deeply.
As an older brother, it had been his right to protect his sister, not instantly trusting a new man.
He had lost that fucking right.
He hadn’t done his job of protecting her. He wasn’t there when her fucking husband was laying hands on her. When she had nothing. No one. He’d disappeared from her life because he’d found his own. Because he had let a woman get between him and his family.
Naomi had tried that with me. And even though I’d been wrapped up in her bullshit, I’d never let her get her talons in me deep enough to alienate me from my family. Only weak men did that.
And Hannah’s brother was a weak man, in my estimation. He was making the effort now. After Hannah had stopped needing him.
I sensed the conversation was coming when I heard the front door open and shut.
“Fuck it’s cold,” he muttered, rubbing his arms over his jacket.
Pussy, I thought in my head, letting out a noncommittal grunt out loud. It was not cold. It was almost spring. The bite to the air only cut through the skin of those with weak blood.
There had been a late dumping of snow that still covered the ground. Not unusual for this time of year, but I was ready for winter to fuck off.
Hannah had worn shorts today.
Shorts with fucking cowboy boots. The restraint it took not to drag her back into our room should’ve been studied. Soon she’d be back in sundresses. And I’d be able to act on my desires to lift up those dresses, tear off her panties, and fuck her into oblivion.
Yes, I was ready for summer.