Chapter 19
Istrolled down the hall in the house I was supposed to call home—but still didn’t quite feel like it—with my head bent over my phone, texting with Arena. She was regaling me in far too much detail about her hook-up with a drama major last night. She claimed the girl was not only dramatic on stage, but crazy dramatic in the bedroom, too.
Walking past the doorway to the theater room, I startled at the sound of my name.
“Dempsey, get in here.”
Backtracking, I took a tentative step into the room to find Dacre sprawled on one of the plush recliners, the giant screen lit up in front of him.
“Are you watching The Great British Bake Off?” I asked.
I wasn’t prepared for the sight of him in a plain white tee that wrapped around his thick arms or the loose red plaid pajama pants he was wearing. Shirtless in his paint-covered studio jeans would forever be my favorite outfit of his, but this one made my knees shake at the memory of his mouth on me last week.
He shrugged, a small smile creeping across his face. “I like the artistry of it.”
Of course he did.
“Watch with me.” He inclined his head to the seat beside him, and I didn’t need to think about it. My feet moved on their own accord and I sprawled next to him, my body instantly relaxing into the cushions.
We watched in tense silence for a while, totally unsure on where we stood. Whether we’d been caught up in the moment in his art studio, eager to get each other off, or if it was the kind of intimacy we’d be repeating.
I definitely wasn’t opposed to a repeat performance. The memory of Dacre reverently painting my body would stay with me for a lifetime.
There was also the giant, awkward issue that I was also sleeping with his brother. Or had slept with his brother. I had no idea where Pres and I stood either.
“Are you coming to my next swim meet?” I asked eventually.
He glanced my way. “I’ll come to every meet if you want me there.”
His words instantly disarmed me, melting any awkwardness between us.
I gave him a small smile. “I mean… you don’t have to come to every one.”
His hand brushed over my knee, resting there. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”
Heat crept into my cheeks at the sweetness of his offer and I turned my attention back to the screen. “Hopefully Robert DeGrossi doesn’t come to every meet.”
Dacre’s expression hardened. “Fuck him, he’s just bitter. All the DeGrossis are.”
I sat up a little at his tone. “About what?”
“That DeGrossi money isn’t the same as Aston money. At least not around here.” He sighed. “Byron has worked hard for decades to solidify the Aston name and it’s paid off. Everybody respects Byron, looks to him for leadership, wants him at their events, in their clubs, on their team. Robert wants all of it.”
“That sounds like Byron earned his position and Robert wants it handed to him.”
Dacre shifted, his leg brushing mine, making me hyper-aware of him, like I wasn’t already. “Don’t get me wrong, Robert has amassed an impressive fortune from his businesses, but he’s not on Byron’s level. It’s created this weird rivalry between our families for years. Sin, Pres, and I couldn’t care less, but Trent takes it seriously, and because of it he’s fucking insufferable.”
I swallowed. “So, I guess it didn’t help when he and I…”
Dacre’s expression shuttered. “I already hated the guy. That just made me want to kill him.”
I bit down on the urge to apologize, because was I actually sorry? I was sorry that I’d ever done anything to hurt Dacre, but I’d been free, single and feeling deeply insecure about the new life I’d be thrust into. I made a choice, and God knew it had backfired hard, but I didn’t want to go out of my way to apologize unless I really meant it.
“If it makes you feel better, you’re a much better lay than he is,” I said.
He tipped his head back and laughed, making me smile. “I already knew that, but hearing you say it really does it for me.”
He grinned over at me and I wanted to take his face in my hands and kiss him stupid, but I held back.
His face turned serious. “Do it.”
I frowned. “Do what?”
He shifted closer. “Whatever you were just thinking about, do it.”
“And miss finding out who’s going to take out this tiered themed cake contest?” I motioned to the screen. “No way.”
We turned back to the screen, watching in silence for a beat.
“Do you ever call Byron Dad?” I asked, still staring at the screen.
“I used to. Not as much anymore.”
“How come?”
He let out a sigh. “Because he stopped being a dad to me a long time ago.”
Why?
The question burned in my throat and I so desperately wanted to ask it. Would he tell me? He’d told me only a moment ago to do whatever it was I’d been thinking.
“What did he do?”
His gaze locked with mine while he thought about how to answer.
“A lot of things, one being that he doesn’t support my art.”
I pulled a face. “You mentioned it in your studio, but I don’t understand what kind of father doesn’t back his child’s dreams?”
“The kind that doesn’t believe that artistic pursuits are a viable career path.” He said the last part in a deeper voice like Bryon’s. “Byron believes in making money, and thinks the only way to do that is to go into business like him. Or sports if you’re Presley. He’ll tolerate that.”
I absently reached a hand out, tracing the pattern on the pants covering his thigh. His eyes followed the movements of my finger.
“Why don’t you have an art show? Prove him wrong?”
He shrugged. “I don’t feel the need to prove anything to him. He can think what he wants.”
It had to hurt him though, having a father who didn’t believe in him.
“How about we don’t talk about Byron anymore?” he said, moving onto his side so he was facing me.
I fought a smile. “What should we talk about then?”
“What it’s going to take for you to kiss me.”
The smile won out and I chuckled. “Probably not much.”
His eyes lit up and he shifted closer. “Oh, yeah?”
I nodded, and his hand slid along my jaw, tangling in my hair. He gently tugged my face towards his, pressing his lips to mine. The kiss was slow, and soft, and sensual, all things that I’d come to learn summed up Dacre. He was so much more than the hard-bodied exterior.
“Fuck, you taste as good as last time. Like peaches and my dream girl.”
I couldn’t help the way I swooned at his words. The sweet side of him was so unexpected, so at odds with his usual demeanor that it surprised me every time.
He kissed me again, tongue brushing over my lips and I opened for him. He swept into my mouth with dizzying strokes and I leaned into him, my body pressed against his. My leg hitched on its own accord, sprawling across his and he grunted in approval, our mouths never breaking the kiss.
“Dacre,” a voice snapped and I rolled off him.
“Sinclair,” Dacre said, shifting back up into a seated position and shooting his brother a dark look.
Heat flooded my cheeks at being caught out by Sinclair. Would he judge me for sleeping with both brothers? Try to warn them off being with me or convince one of them to give me up?
“Good thing I’m not Byron or Bea. I made it all the way into the room to find you two on top of each other without either of you noticing.”
Dacre sighed. “Did you come in here just to lecture us, big bro?”
Sinclair glanced at me, his eyes hardening, then back to Dacre. “Oh, there’s an us now?”
The two brothers glared at each other, another silent conversation passing between them.
“I’ve just come out of a meeting with Byron, and he’d like to see Dempsey.” He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up in a way that was seriously fucking hot on an asshole like him. “Like I’m a fucking messenger boy.”
Dacre tossed an arm around my shoulders, settling us back against the recliners. “Don’t act like one if you don’t want to be one.”
Sinclair’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t snap back, just stalked from the room.
Dacre smiled down at me. “Where were we?”
“About to get busted by your hardass older brother.”
He huffed a laugh. “Ignore him. He’s all bark, no bite.”
I totally disagreed, but I didn’t want to talk about Sinclair right now. Not when Dacre’s hand that wasn’t slung around my shoulders was trailing down my stomach towards the button of my jeans.
“You seem tense,” he said with a smug smile. “Why don’t you let me take care of that for you?”
He unbuttoned my jeans, moving to the end of the recliner to tug them off, tossing them on the floor. He climbed over me, his mouth fusing with mine in a heated kiss.
When he pulled back, I screwed up my face, annoyed at the loss of his mouth on mine.
“Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to have those pouty peach-covered lips wrapped around my cock right now.”
I raised a brow in question, gaze dropping to his hard cock tenting his pants.
He shook his head. “I want to taste you today.” Then he slid my black lace panties down my legs, slipping them into his pocket.
“You’re not keeping those,” I said, pointing a finger at him.
He grinned back at me. “I need a trophy to remind myself that you let me have you.” He smoothed his hands down my legs, staring at me like I was the moon in the night sky.
“But those are my favorites,” I whined, my mouth snapping shut the moment he gripped my ankles and split my legs apart. I barely had time to take a breath before his mouth was on me.
“Dacre,” I said on a sigh, my head dropping back against the recliner when his tongue slid over me. “We can’t do this here, we’re going to get caught.”
He looked up at me from between my legs, a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “You’ll just have to be quiet then, Bambi.”