Graham
M y fingers loop into my tie, loosening the knot around my neck, as I slip through the heavy door into the foyer decorated in more crazy colors and geometric shapes than anything Picasso ever dreamed of painting. The over-the-top ostentatious color explosion simultaneously causes nausea and migraines. Krista decorated every house my father owned in the same ridiculous display of wealth that is more crass than class, even for a former record label owner who spends most of his time surrounded by musicians and artists.
I’m sure my dad’s parasite threw a fit when all the houses were auctioned off to pay his debt. I stepped in for this one because my mother loved it.
I secretly bought the house in Los Angeles when it was auctioned, then burned it to the ground. It was full of memories that didn’t need remembering.
I head to the spiral staircase, shaking my head at the glass railing and steps that replaced the original ironwork, trying to get away from the vomit-inducing décor as quickly as possible, and wonder for the millionth time how the hell she went through enough money to provide dozens of family lives of luxury for a lifetime in less than a decade.
I’ve accumulated a vast fortune in my ambitious drive for power that I couldn’t spend in one hundred lifetimes even with my pretentious taste, yet Krista could squander it in one.
With each step up the spiral staircase, the headache that began before I left the office throbs a little harder, pounding to the rhythm of my feet.
It’s been a long week, and it’s only Wednesday. I’ve been putting out fires with distributors and vendors for Sin Records. My other businesses have all required my attention. It’s been an endless cycle.
The good thing is it’s kept me distracted, keeping me from doing something stupid.
Like stalking my pretty little stepsister more than I already do. I’ve got to keep my damn head.
I need a drink, a shower, and a fuck. However, the latter will be a date with my hand since the idea of going out is as appealing as a colonoscopy. Not to mention the fact there’s only one pussy I’m interested in. Over the years, as much as I hated it, it didn’t matter who I was with; it was her face in my mind and her name on my lips. Eventually, the thought of touching anyone turned my stomach, so my right hand and I became well acquainted.
When I reach the fourth-floor landing, I turn left toward the library, preferring to raid the small bar there rather than venture through the rest of the monstrous décor for a larger selection. The last thing I expect when I open the door is to find long legs on tiptoes, brushing delicate fingers across the book spines. My eyes drink up the path from those toned calves and thighs dressed in tights with tiny athletic shorts over them to the long, blond braid hanging down her back. She’s still in her dance gear, but a massive hoodie covers her and when her arm drops, it falls until those shorts disappear beneath its long hem. Jealousy burns through me as I wonder who the hoodie might belong to, then I shove it away to admire the view.
My shoulder props against the doorframe, watching as she moves with ethereal grace, examining the titles of books as if she doesn’t know each one as well as I do—as if she hasn’t read almost every title housed in this room. The lift of her arm as she strokes the words on the old books is effortless. Each step taken as she moves to another shelf is fluid. Her body moves with a natural elegance and easy precision.
She’s breathtaking, even in the mundane, yet has no clue how stunning she is. But my dick does, punching the fabric of my pants, ready to escape its confines and sink into her.
Not today, buddy. Not today.
She finally settles on a title, tilting the book a bit with a long, slender finger before pulling it free. Her attention stays on the cover as she turns around, quietly humming in the off-key way she always has. Some little tune I don’t recognize, but she’s hummed it since the day I met her. On the sad night in this very room, I found a tearful little girl crying for her dad as she held her knees to her chest and sang that song.
“Haven’t you read that one enough?” I tease, having no clue what book she’s picked.
Her midnight eyes snap to mine, wide with shock, and the book slips from her grasp. “I-uh…” She drops to her heels, retrieving the thick volume without lifting her eyes. “I didn’t know you would be here.”
I planned to get a place of my own, but after talking with my dad, I knew I was needed here. Even if the last place I want to be is anywhere near drama that involves Krista.
“Hmm. I take it had you known you wouldn’t be here now?”
She bites her lip with a slight shake of her head.
I shove my hands in my pocket, my jaw clenching. It pisses me off, but at least she didn’t lie to me, I suppose.
My chest expands as I inhale, forcing the anger away. Keeping my temper in check has never been easy, but I’ve learned to control it better over the years. Or I like to think I have, but with Casey, I’ve always tried. Especially after I realized how her mother was treating her. Yelling and fast movements trigger her. It’s why I’ve always suspected Krista did more than just verbally abuse her.
“Well, I live here.” When her pretty mouth makes an ‘O’, I smirk. “The better question would be, why are you here?” If she says to see her mother, I might strangle her.
Krista was released on bail yesterday after being ordered to surrender her passports. I know Liam was informed, so I know he told Casey.
“I’m not here to see Mom.” She knew what I was thinking without me saying it, and I hide my smirk because she proves her little theory about not knowing each other wrong. “I knew she wasn’t here. Mrs. Lovitt told me she went shopping.”
“With what money?” I mutter. Casey’s head tilts as questions light up her face. My lips press together as I silently curse my slip. She has no idea about the financial situation around here. Granted, Dad isn’t flat broke. His portfolio brings in an adequate amount, but it’s a far cry from what he once had, much less enough to fund his wife’s spending habits. “Then what brings you here, Sunflower?”
Her mouth twists to one side then the other, eyes darting around, picking at nonexistent lint on her hoodie. I hope she doesn’t think she can wait me out because I could stand here forever and just look at her.
My little sunflower has no idea that even though I avoided being in the same place as her, I’ve still watched her from a distance. I was at her high school graduation. I have been to almost every performance she’s done with the university and the two small community performances, and I get notifications every time she posts on social media. Hours have been spent staring at her photos like some stage five clinger.
“I need to speak with Maxwell.” She surrenders when she realizes I’m not budging—from the topic or the exit. “And I come once a week when I know Mom won’t be here to see Noah.”
I’m not shocked. I suspected she came around to see her baby brother. Even if I weren’t technically stalking her, I would expect it. It’s who Casey is.
But I am curious when she finally decided to get space from her mother. I have an idea, but I want to hear it from her, so I ask.
There’s that mouth twist again. Any time she’s contemplative—or avoiding—she chews on one side and then the other. “I-uh… When I found out she was setting my dad up for the baby,” she finally admits. “Sh-she used me to do it. I’m… I don’t want to be a tool in her arsenal against him anymore. Without me, she can’t hurt him.”
So, it’s about Liam. It’s always about Liam.
I get it. She loves her dad as she should, but this goes deeper. Her thoughts are always on protecting him, never herself. She has no sense of self-preservation at all, and it makes me crazy. I hoped she would’ve outgrown this martyr complex by now, but I suppose it’s too deeply ingrained in who she is. It’s why she needs someone to balance that. If she won’t protect herself…
I need the subject to change fast. Krista alone is enough to piss me off, but I’m not Liam’s biggest fan, either. Especially not after his request last week.
I clear my throat, shaking away the burn of irritation in my chest. “Dad won’t be back until late. He had some business to handle today.” Business that the succu-bitch should be part of since it’s for her, but it seems she can’t be bothered. Casey blows a breath, those fringe bangs waving with the effort. Her hands scrub roughly over her face as she grumbles an annoyed, tired sound.
I push away from the doorframe, crossing the space between us. My fingers wrap around her slim wrists, pulling her hands around from her worn face. She is too damn young to look this tired. “Is there something I can help you with?” When she doesn’t answer, I offer a lopsided grin. “If I remember correctly, I used to be pretty good at helping you out.”
A hint of a smile plays on those narrow lips, a pink pout puckering a bit, emphasizing how her bottom lip is a bit fuller than the upper. They shine- with whatever she put on them. Taunting. Begging me to…
“No.” The word makes my eyes snap to hers. I don’t like being told no, but it helps me to focus on the problem instead of the path my mind was taking. “I’ll have to come back another time.”
Unable to resist, I tuck a fallen strand of hair behind her ear, then trail my fingers over her jaw. “Try me. I’m sure I can help.”
A light blush tints her cheeks as her eyes dart between mine. She steps to the side, trying to appear casual, but her uncertainty shows. And I’m biting back a growl because I do not like her avoiding my touch, either.
I don’t like her avoiding me at all. It makes me feel… homicidal.
Dammit, is this how she’s felt all this time? Not knowing how fucking obsessed with her I am? Having no clue that, despite staying away from her and ignoring her calls and messages under the guise of being busy, I still knew her every move. I never invaded her privacy or anything, but I had ways of ensuring she was cared for—of knowing what was happening in her life, even who was part of it.
It wasn’t part of my plan, but I couldn’t stay away and not know. I may even have a slight problem, but until last week, my justification was I was keeping my promise even if I wasn’t physically near her. Then Liam made his request and threw a wrench into my excuse.
She stops at the bar, and I shove my hands in my pocket, watching to see what she does. Crystal clinks as she gets a glass. My curiosity piques when I see her lift a decanter, remove the top, and pour. Her head tilts back as she downs the contents in a single swallow. Then she turns around and props her hands on the bar behind her. “What?” she questions at my lifted brow. “It’s not like you didn’t drink at my age.”
“No judgment.” I lift my hands, palms out toward her, with a smirk.
“Yes, you are.” She points and grins, showing me those cute-as-hell dimples for the first time in forever. “It is written in your judgy eyebrows.”
“Judgy eyebrows?” My mouth twitches as I fight my grin.
“Yep. Especially the right one. It goes all pointy.”
I chuckle, crossing the room, erasing the distance she tried to create. Her cheeks get redder with each step as she watches me finish undoing my tie and remove my suit jacket, tossing them both on a chair, then roll up the cuffs of my shirt. “I’m not judging the drinking, Sunflower.” I reach around her, intentionally brushing my arm against hers, making her shiver. Gotcha, Sunflower. I grab another glass, fill them both, and hand her one. “But I am curious when liquid courage became necessary to have a conversation with me.”
“I told you—”
“Strangers make you uncomfortable, which I already knew, but, Sunflower, we’ve known each other too long to ever be strangers, no matter how much time has passed. Be honest with me. What’s really going on?” Her mouth presses into a thin line, and I know she will not change her story. And apparently, I’ve lost my mind, or the devil on my shoulder told the angel to fuck off because I toss back the liquid in my glass, set it down, and take her glass from her. Then I bring the crystal to her lips and turn it up. Her eyes grow wide, blinking rapidly as she swallows. When the last drop is gone, I place the glass behind her, bring my thumb to the corner of her mouth, collect the spilled liquid, and wipe it away. Her mouth falls when I bring the drop to my own.
If she wants to lie to me—claim her skittishness is because she’s uncomfortable, then I’ll give my pretty little sunflower a reason to be uncomfortable.
I place my hands on either side of her, resting them against the bar, and enjoy the flush of her sweet face. Watch as perspiration dots across her freckled nose. Count the beats of her pulse fluttering in her neck. Appreciate how her chest rises rapidly with stilted breaths. “Now,” I breathe in her ear, “that should be enough to get that mouth of yours to work.”
“Wh-what?”
I grin. She caught the double entendre quickly.
“Words, Sunflower. Use them. What do you need from my dad?” God, why does it bother me so much that she would go to him? I’m the one who made her feel like she couldn’t come to me. It was my idea for Dad to pretend to fund her life. Which is why I know this is about money. Though she cares for Dad, I know if this is regarding anything other than that, she would go to Liam.
“, really, it’s nothing you can help with.”
“Then I can relay the message.”
“No. Th-that doesn’t feel right. I…” Her lips pull to the side, and I can almost see the guilt building. What in the world does she want that makes her feel guilty? “I need to be the one to speak with him.” Her eyes dip to the floor.
Time to try a new angle. I dip my head to meet her eyes. My smile softens along with my voice. “Try it out on me.” I slip my hand behind her, gently cupping her neck. “Like you used to when you wanted to ask for something.”
She bites her lip, fighting a grin, then rolls her eyes with a huff. “Fine.” I lean back when she relents before she becomes acutely aware of how she affects me. “I wanted to let Maxwell know he doesn’t need to renew my lease.”
My chest rumbles. It is a good thing she doesn’t seem to notice it or how my muscles tighten. Sometimes, her oblivious innocence is a blessing. “Why not?” I ask, trying to hide my irritation. “Is something wrong with it?” If something is wrong, and no one told me, someone will pay.
“No. It’s nothing like that. It’s just as beautiful as ever. I love it. I even love having all that space to myself now, but with Lily living with Dad, her dad won’t be splitting the lease any longer. Not that she needs him to now. But that would put the entire amount on Dad and Maxwell, and I don’t want that.”
“Is that all?” I grab my neck, rubbing the knot that was already forming, and breathe a little easier. “Casey, it’s fine. I promise.” It is fine because my dad doesn’t pay for her apartment at all.
But the moment of relief passes when I notice her expression doesn’t change. She looks as determined as she did when she said it. Her chin tilts up a bit, and her shoulders straighten. “No.” She shakes her head, her hoodie-covered arms cross her chest, and I notice, for the first time, the hoodie looks like… It’s mine from when I went to Princeton. I’ve been so transfixed by her beautiful face that I didn’t even register the hoodie beyond it being black. I always wondered where it vanished to.
Minutes ago, I was jealous about who it belonged to. Now…
Fuck it all. My dick pulses behind my zipper. The moment I notice her wearing my clothes, it becomes so hard it could punch through steel. If she looks down, the secret won’t be so secret anymore.
“No?” I challenge.
“I don’t want to appear ungrateful, but I told Maxwell after Mom… Well, I don’t want to take more from him. It doesn’t feel right, and I don’t like the idea that it hurts my dad. I asked him to stop paying my tuition already, but he assured me it was the money Dad gave Mom all those years. He said she never knew he set it aside. I stayed in the apartment because of the lease, but it’s up in a few months.”
At least Dad sold the story about the child support. It’s not true, of course, but when he called me last year to tell me she wanted him to stop paying, it was all I could think of to make sure she kept taking the money. Casey would finish school if I had to hand the money to the school itself, then drag her there and tie her to the seat. The same goes for all her extra dance classes.
I should have seen this coming, but for some reason I didn’t. “So, what are you thinking? A smaller apartment in the building?”
“No.” Fuck my life, of course, she says no. “I’m not sure what my plan is, but that building will be way over my budget.”
Her budget? She teaches four-year-old dance classes three times a week. Her budget won’t afford a shoebox, much less an apartment. Jesus, Sunflower, what are you thinking?
She is going to make me confess to everything. I can tell. Then, she will raise hell when she learns the truth. Liam will, too, but I have a feeling he will be on my side. Except for the part where I lock her in the apartment because Casey is not living in some run-down shit hole with people she doesn’t know because of her sense of guilt or pride or whatever the hell is motivating her. And she is not moving to Jersey. Not that she could afford a shoebox there either.
“Casey, you can stay where you are.”
She shakes her head as she pulls her buzzing phone from her— my— hoodie pocket. “No. I’m not taking anything else from Maxwell. Or Dad.” She glances at her phone, and her brows pinch as she silently curses under her breath. “I’m late.”
“A date?”
She nods, and I can feel the vein between my eyes pulse as my jaw clamps down. I catch her by the elbow as she walks past me, inhaling deeply, so I don’t throw her over my shoulder because I don’t want her going on a damn date. Not that it matters. It won’t go beyond that. “Have dinner with me tomorrow. We’ll discuss it more.”
“I already told you we shouldn’t. Besides, there’s nothing to discuss. But if you don’t mind, can you let me tell Maxwell?”
I nod but don’t let go. The urge to throw her over my shoulder grows. It takes genuine effort to force my fingers to unwind from her arm.
I watch, fuming in silence, as she walks to the door. She pauses, looking over her shoulder, and in typical Casey fashion, says, “Thanks for listening, .”
“Anytime, Sunflower.” Her eyes tell me she doesn’t believe I mean it.
And I hate it.
Jesus, I’ve made a bigger mess than I thought I did. It was necessary because I damn sure couldn’t have entertained her—or my—fantasies when she was sixteen fucking years old. Even at eighteen, it would have created too many questions, and I knew she wasn’t ready. It shouldn’t have mattered, but deep down, I knew it would. It would matter to her, and it would matter to the people she loves. The truth is, even now, it won’t be accepted.
Not that I care what’s accepted.
I drag my hand through my hair with a low growl, then return to the bar. After fixing myself another glass, I head for my room. Pushing the door open, I step into my private space and walk past my massive California king bed straight to my bathroom. I start the water, then strip out of my clothes, tossing them into the individual bins.
The water is freezing when I step under the spray, just as I intended, hoping a cold shower will alleviate the problem straining against my abs. My fingers grip the throbbing crown, trying to cut off the blood flow, but it does no good. Then I think about Casey wearing my old hoodie—I don’t care if she realizes it’s mine or not. The sight ignited every possessive cell in my body.
A groan rumbles when my hand slides down my pulsating shaft as I picture her on all fours, wearing only my shirt, her pretty, pink pussy dripping down those never-ending thighs just for me. Visions of her wrapped around my cock, stretched wide around me, sucking me deep inside her tight little hole has me panting, thrusting hard into my fist as if it were her. My fingers would dig into her narrow hips, gripping hard enough to bruise, and she would scream my name, beg me to let her come. I would pinch her needy little clit, roll it between my fingers as my cock hit her g-spot over and over until she clamped down on me hard and tight.
God, I bet she’s so fucking tight. Just like the rest of that magnificent body.
And that’s all it takes for me to cross the finish line. Her name falls from my lips as white ropes shoot in endless streams, landing on the shower floor. My head tilts back, allowing the icy stream to coat my heated face as her sweet smile dances behind my closed eyes.
Fuck.
And I begin round two.