All I could do was chew on my theories until she wanted to talk about it with me. Regardless of my suspicions, her first experience with "marriage" had been traumatic.
As had mine.
My father was out of his fucking mind if he thought he could force me into marrying anybody. I wasn't getting married because he told me it would look good for him on the campaign trail.
I also wondered what my sister knew about our father's plotting. I'd broach the subject with her another time, though, because I definitely wasn't up for it tonight. Victoria lived across the hall from me in her own apartment. Her place and mine encompassed the entire twelfth floor. The setup gave us each the privacy of our own space, even though I leased both units. She lived there for now, but once she and Clay tied the knot she wouldn't. It was hard to imagine my little sister married and all grown up. She was young in years, but Vic was an old soul on the inside. Serious and smart and very mature. I had no doubts she would make a success of her marriage just as she did in all other areas of her life. Caleb had nothing but praise for how she managed his executive office. He said she was the best PA he'd ever had, and made it known he'd do whatever she needed to keep her happy and still working for him after she married Clay.
I refused to even think about my own wedding-day-from-hell. Five years hadn't done a lot to stem the bitterness I felt, but I honestly tried my best to keep the whole fucking mess buried in the past where it belonged.
So I thought about something good instead.
Something so beautifully perfect, my cock leapt in my palm as I wrapped my hand around the shaft painfully tight and started stroking up and down. I pictured her lips. Dark pink and fully stretched open for me to take. I imagined what had to be the sweetest lips on the planet wrapped around the crown of my cock while she knelt naked at my feet.
In my wicked vision, Winter allowed me to fuck her pretty little mouth with my rock-hard cock until I was ready to fill it with one spectacular orgasm.
It was her name I called when the jizz started spitting out of the tip, the earthy scent of semen mixing with the hot water and soap as it was washed away, draining into the sewers of the city.
The perfect metaphor of where my head was at whenever I thought of her.
Access to Lurid was done by password, which changed nightly. I had to check in via my online account if I wanted entry. Management discouraged drop-in visits, and for good reason. Responsible people in the D/s scene weren't reactionary. Participation in whatever activities they chose was usually planned in advance, and with great detail. I didn't feel very responsible tonight, but then after what my dad had to say to me earlier today, I figured my membership here was on borrowed time anyway.
Maybe tonight would be the last time I'd ever need the password to gain entry into one of the very few places I could indulge in the expression of my desires without judgment. After Leah, I'd found dominating during sex was something I needed even more than when we'd been together. It was like my wiring had been permanently fused after she left me, and I didn't want to go back to how I'd been before.
Right now, I desperately needed to decompress for an hour or two, so I entered the code for the evening…S-I-L-K…into the keypad, waited for the green light, and turned the handle on the door. I signed in, left my keys and phone with the front desk attendant, and became officially off the grid for a bit. No texts or calls for me until I checked out later. The feeling of freedom was fucking wonderful, if only just for a couple hours. Real life wasn't going anywhere now, was it? It'd be right there waiting for me when I emerged.
Unfortunately.
Looking at the crowd filtering through the main area, I could see it was busier than usual for a weeknight. There were a few familiar faces to nod at before heading to the bar. A two-drink maximum was enforced at all times, because drunk play was a no-no. A clear head was necessary for the safety of everyone involved.
"What can I get you?" Bill asked as I took a seat at the bar.
"Ah, I think a shot of Lag will do me just right, Bill."
"You got it." He poured one for me and assessed my mental state no doubt. Bill Smith was a mountain of a man with enough muscles and tats to make the most badass biker take pause. He could handle himself no problem, but he wasn't an aggressor. He was a problem solver. Big difference. Besides tending bar, he was the security muscle for Lurid whenever he was needed in such a capacity, which was seldom, thank God. I wouldn't come here if the place wasn't quiet. Loud and noisy was never my thing. "Tough day?" Did I mention Bill could read people well?
I couldn't help the scoff that escaped. "You could say that." I took a sip of my drink and kept the rest of my thoughts to myself. If being told by your father that you'll be getting married and making a Hallmark-card-picture-perfect family in order to boost his political ambitions counts, then yeah, my day was shit. "Something unexpected landed on my plate today."
"Ah, man, you're supposed to leave that burdensome shit at the door with your phone." Bill wiped down the glossy wood of the bar and glanced to my right. I followed his line of vision.
I slung back another swallow of Lag and finished it off. A girl I'd seen in here before was making her way toward me. I held on to her eyes as she came forward, knowing precisely why I remembered her in the first place. She looked a lot like another long-legged beauty who tempted my dreams relentlessly. Thick brown hair I wanted in my hands. Pretty eyes that told me I could do a lot more than pull her hair. A lush body just aching for some properly dispensed attention at my hands. Fucking perfect.
"That's the plan, Bill," I answered, without taking my eyes off the girl. "That is my plan."
The feeling of calm I'd earned from my time at Lurid disintegrated as soon as I pulled into the basement parking garage two hours later. Because who pulled in just five seconds behind me? Yep, Winter's silver hybrid slid into her dedicated parking space just four spots away. I killed the engine and mentally willed her to go up without me.
Didn't work.
Because when she got out of her car, she headed to where I was parked, a half-smile on her beautiful face. A messenger bag slung over her shoulder and a backpack in her hand, she looked every inch the young university student she was. Wearing jeans and a jacket, her long brown hair pulled up into a loose knot, she appeared before me completely fresh-faced and innocent.
So beautiful.
Utterly perfect.
Fucking gorgeous.
But facing her right now—in my current state of mind, and from where I'd just come—was a disaster waiting to happen.
Unluckily for me, my sorry ass was out of options. So, I plastered what I hoped was a pleasant expression onto my face as I got out of the Lexus. "Hey you." I locked it and made my way to where she waited. I made a show of checking my watch. "It's almost midnight, young lady."
"Night class. Three hours once a week. It was the only time offered."
I didn't like the idea of her walking alone on campus so late at night. "What's the course?"
"Ethics with Dr. Drummond," she said, giving me another one of her half-smiles.
The irony wasn't lost on me. Did ethics even exist in the workplace anymore? My father certainly didn't have any. I held my hand out for her backpack so I could carry it for her.
"What's so funny?" she asked as she handed it over.
"Hmm?" I looked into her eyes, which were uniquely beautiful all on their own. A deep green and ringed with a gold band. Stunning even at the end of what had to be a very long day. I could only imagine how magnificent her eyes would be looking at me while I was deep inside her, and she was about to come. You can stop the fuck right now with those kinds of thoughts, because it's never happening with her.
"You laughed when I told you my class tonight was ethics."
"I did?"
"Yes, James, you did. What's wrong?" She tilted her head at me and waited.
"Nothing's wrong. Everything is fine. Good. Great." You can shut off the lame-ass babbling too, asshole.
br /> "You're looking at me weird." She licked her lips and dragged her tongue over her teeth. "Do I have something stuck in my teeth? I had a granola bar for dinner during our break."
A granola bar for dinner? I didn't like what she'd had for dinner any more than I approved of her walking alone across a dark campus to get to her car. Next Wednesday night would go down much differently. No, I took the opportunity she'd just handed to me so neatly and used it to my advantage instead. I'm not a complete moron all the time.
"Let me look." I took her chin in my hand and tilted her mouth toward mine. "Don't move." I brought my finger to her mouth and tugged it along her bottom lip. I leaned closer and studied her pouty lips and the bottom row of her even, white teeth. I felt how she trembled slightly in my hold, and I heard her quick intake of breath. I even caught the flowery scent of her perfume all in the span of a precious moment. "There's something…I see a—"
"What?" she asked worriedly, her chin still held in my hand. I didn't think I could let go. I'd made a big mistake touching her. I realized it too late to stop the madness that tumbled from my godforsaken mouth in my next breath.
"All I can see is a very beautiful, lovely girl named Winter, and I think she should marry me."
Her eyes flared a little before she took a sharp breath and pulled out of my grasp. "You ass." She punched me playfully in the shoulder and then laughed, her face a little flushed.
I breathed a massive sigh of relief she'd taken my little confession as a joke.
Thank Christ.
As we walked toward the elevators, I diverted my mini-disaster and asked her about school and her volunteering job at the South Boston Youth Center—anything to take the focus off me, and why I was coming in at this late hour. She unhappily shared the story of a young brother and sister who were in a dismal situation with a mom who most likely prostituted herself to keep them fed. I could tell it broke her heart to have to send the kids home in the evenings when the center closed for the day. Winter was such a good person in her heart, and she would help a lot of people in her lifetime. I knew this without a shadow of a doubt.
"It was nice of you to carry my backpack and walk me to my door." She turned to face me as we got to her apartment and held her hand out for her backpack. I reluctantly gave it to her, wishing our short time together wasn't over so soon.
"My pleasure, Win. I like knowing you're right here beneath me all safe and sound."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, like she was trying to figure out my comment and what I was insinuating. Oh, I'd intended the double meaning all right. I was a dickhead for teasing her all the time. I said shit I shouldn't say to her. But still, I kept doing it. The kid in the third grade who relentlessly tormented the little girl he secretly had a crush on? That kid was me right now.
"Goodnight, James." She hurried to unlock her door, probably to get away from me.
"Night, Win. Get some rest."
"You too," she said with a sexy half laugh and gentle shake of her head—right before she shut the door in my face.
Yeah, Winter was one of a kind. A diamond amongst the rocks. She was fucking gorgeous with a heart I wished could be mine. But Winter Blackstone deserved someone much better than me. And always would.
As I headed for the stairwell, I knew something else, too.
All I can see is a very beautiful, lovely girl named Winter, and I think she should marry me.
Nothing in my comment had been a joke. I'd meant every word…even if it would always remain a fantasy.
Chapter Three
WINTER
Maybe James was trying to kill me. Because it was quite possible he was really a serial killer whose signature method was death-by-swoon. All I can see is a beautiful, lovely girl named Winter, and I think she should marry me.
Seriously, WTF just happened?
James Blakney said those words to me.
Right after telling me I was beautiful and lovely.
I snorted out a laugh in the foyer of my apartment, dropping my messenger bag and backpack where I stood. Yeah, I might be in good physical shape and have youth on my side, but any more talk like that from James and my heart would be at risk. For cardiac arrest as well as breaking.
What? Did he think I was made of stone or something? He's lucky I didn't climb him like a tree in the parking garage with the way he'd looked at me. And touched me. Jesus…
I brought my fingers to my lips and traced the path he'd used with his own fingers. Ever since I'd moved into this building six months ago, something had been different with James.
Ever since the mess with Chris.
It was James who prepared the restraining order against my ex because Caleb asked him. So James knew some of the story, but probably not all. I wished I knew exactly what Caleb had shared about the situation, but I suspected it wasn't much, because Caleb would keep it in the family. I knew my brother, and he spent a good portion of his time protecting our family. That's just the kind of person he was.
But…my God, James was in fine form tonight with the flirting.
That was flirting, right?
He'd always been a little flirty with me, but I knew he didn't mean anything by it. Unspoken logic had kept things pretty simple over the years. He teased, I laughed. Meaningless stuff between two friends.
But was it meaningless? If it isn't spoken, then it isn't true. Very shitty logic in my opinion, but oh how we all love to believe in miracles. And it would be a miracle if James Blakney really wanted me. It would be a miracle if James wanted me to answer his flirtation with a determined, "Yes, I'm yours for the taking."
In the past, I'd known exactly where I stood with James—basically a second little sister to him, as well as a close family friend. But now, I was so confused about what was really going on with us, and I'd lost some of my confidence around him. I had trouble knowing how to act or what to say. Where conversations between us had always felt easy, now there was tension. Straight-up sexual tension. There was no other way to describe it.
Any sort of attraction on my end would greatly complicate things. Maybe it could even destroy our friendship. Or possibly damage the close friendship between James and Caleb, something that went back decades to their time at St. Damien's.
At the moment, Caleb was very busy running BGE, and enjoying his new girlfriend, Brooke.
Never had the mighty bachelor fallen so hard. My brother had done it in style for one very lovely British girl he'd met by accident, but who also turned out to be the granddaughter of our former housekeeper at Blackwater—Mrs. Casterley, who was now Mrs. Blackstone since marrying our uncle Herman last weekend. Fate can work in mysterious ways.
I'd watched the whole thing unfold before my eyes and still had trouble believing it. But Brooke was absolutely perfect for Caleb. They were so in love, and it was pure poetry seeing them together. If anyone should be getting engaged it was the two of them.
But why on earth would James say I think you should marry me just now?
Made no sense.
And really, it was kind of hurtful to tease when he so obviously meant it as a joke. And why was he coming in so late? It certainly looked like a booty call to me. He had to get it from somewhere, because since the whole Leah mess, I'd never known James to date anyone. He'd been single since the day he was to have married that bitch. Based on his past history with weddings and marriage, I really didn't understand where he could possibly be coming from with the sort of comment he made to me tonight.
He acted like I was a little sister one minute, but then in the next he didn't treat me like a sister at all. And lately, there had been something more in his attentions than what I'd consider brotherly. How he looked at me. The things he said often had me considering a double meaning. When he came to pick me up for dinner with Caleb and Brooke a few weeks ago, he checked me out from top to bottom, even requested I spin for him before declaring I looked good enough to eat. Then he brought my hands to his lips and kissed them both. He did it in a way that looke
d a little bit wicked and a lot hungry. Which had left me totally at his mercy as a jolt of sexy landed right between my legs—aaaaand forbidden images of him using his mouth on me flickered through my head.
Not good.
Very bad, in fact.
Brothers didn't say such things to girls they considered a little sister.
Sisters didn't imagine having filthy sex with the guy who had been like a brother to her, either.
No, they did not. I have three brothers and a lifetime of experience in the covert ways they operated. I didn't want or need any more "brothers" added to my collection. But I did love James, so I'd take him any way I could have him. If it were a platonic dinner between two friends, then I wouldn't turn him down. But the thing that confused me so much was how it didn't feel anything close to platonic anymore.
Honestly, things hadn't felt very platonic for weeks, ever since that night he ran into Sam and me in the elevator as we were heading to my apartment after dinner. He blew me off when I tried to introduce Sam, and barely acknowledged us when we got off at the eleventh floor. I turned back and met James eye to eye for a second before the elevator doors closed between us. He looked, for lack of a better term, jealous of seeing me with another man.
He had no reason to be jealous though, because Sam was only my advisor at the South Boston Youth Center where I was doing my clinical for my master's. I also considered Sam a friend. He was definitely not a booty call, but James didn't bother to find that part out. He just assumed Sam was going "back to my place" for some after-date sexy-time.
Not even close.
I wasn't sure of Sam's sexual orientation for one thing. And I wasn't about to ask him for clarification on that point for another. Our dinner was one hundred percent business oriented. Sam had wanted to bring a discussion about my options after I finished school to the table for the youth center. I did need to start thinking about what I wanted to do with a graduate degree in social work, one of which would have my name on it when the semester ended in another month. I was graduating mid-year because of the time I'd taken off when my dad was sick. I wouldn't go through commencement ceremonies until the spring, but classes would be over for me in a matter of weeks.