Illicit Temptation (Astoria Royals #3)

CHAPTER TEN

Shea

I breathe a sigh of relief when Soren shows up on Monday morning, and I watch Trace strut to his Mercedes, dressed in yet another sharp suit.

Back-to-back parties over the weekend kept my mind busy and my body tired. I ignored Trace as much as I could. With Lachlan in town and able to knock on my door at any moment, Trace wisely tamped down his pursuit of getting me back into bed.

Soren settles into the guest cottage, where all my guards stay while on duty, and I double-time it to the driveway to catch up with Trace before he leaves. The sound of my heels on the asphalt turns him around.

“You had all weekend to come to my bed, princess. It’s a little late.” He folds his arms.

My heart rate ticks up. Damn, I missed that flirting. But it’s for the best. “About our divorce,” I say to him. “The longer it’s out there, the more of a chance someone will find out.”

His jaw muscle jumps, giving away his concern that my brothers could be that someone. “What do you suggest?”

“I worried about going to a lawyer.” I fidget with a scuffed cuticle on my nail. “I don’t suppose you know a discreet one?”

“Haven’t needed one.”

I tilt my head. “Your cousins don’t have one in their pockets?”

Trace futzes with his tie. He doesn’t want them to know either. “I can look for someone discreet.”

“Please don’t use Shane,” I stress.

“Not Shane,” he agrees. “I can come back when I have a few days off and we could... brainstorm.” He leans in to me. “In your pool. Naked. Under the stars. You can think of how to divorce me while I eat your pussy. Although, I’m thinking by the time you come, you won’t want a divorce.”

My body warms with the image. I wish I could remember how that felt, or the sensation of having him inside me. The staggering height, the broad chest, and the cockiness suggest I would lose my mind. Literally.

For the past eight years, I’ve only seen myself with Archer. With that uncertain future smoldering in the ashes, it feels good to be free. Lots of men proposition me at parties and galas, so I won’t have any trouble finding a date.

But just fun. Nothing more.

“You can expect to be shot in the back if Balor sends one of those drones over my house to check on me.”

“What a way to go. My face buried between your legs.” Trace leans in. “The sweet smell of your cunt is the last breath I want to take.”

He smolders in adrenaline-fused bravado. I wade through the thick molasses of that kind of confidence with my brothers. So why are my panties soaked?

I blush, swallowing thickly. “You’re insane.”

But a shudder runs through me, and I’m ready to tell him to meet me at the house Lachlan and Katya rented. They left this morning. The cleaning girls won’t be there until noon.

“Insanely desperate to fuck you again.” Trace circles the column of my throat with a large hand, the heat of his ringed fingers spiraling through me. “Are you on the pill, princess?”

“I am.” But it’s not helping the cramps the way they used to. “Did you use a condom in Vegas?”

“No.”

“I was on the pill then anyway.” I got tested three years ago anyway. Mostly because of Archer. “Did we even discuss it before we...”

An evil grin builds on his mouth. “We sure did. What do you take me for?”

It’s hard to wrap my head around agreeing to let a man go bareback with me. Only...it’s Trace. He must have been very convincing. I’m sure even in my vulnerable state, I knew I could trust him.

“How do we fix this?” I clear the lust from my dry throat.

“I don’t consider being married to you as something broken.”

My stomach twists, thinking he won’t make this easy for me. But why? When my phone buzzes, I groan. “I have to go.”

“As do I.” He brushes a loose strand of my hair behind one ear and whispers hotly against my skin. “Feel free to knock on my door any time if you want a good fuck. I recall you like my cuddle game, too.” Trace gets into his car and drives off.

I glance back at my house, wondering if Soren witnessed any of this. The way my heart pumps with worry shows the reality of how much my life is not my own.

How I think I’m free, but this is just a cage at the beach.

My guards protect me, but their loyalties lie with Lachlan. He’s their boss. Trace knows this and right now, self-preservation ranks higher for him than giving me a divorce.

The alarm blares on my phone again.

Appointment Reminder: G-Man

Shoot. My gynecologist check-up.

Someone’s fingers will be in my pussy in an hour. Just not the man I want.

“THE PILLS AREN’T HELPING your cramps because the fibroids are denser now.” My doctor points to an X-ray on his computer screen that might be a photograph of the moon for all I know.

Three doctors ago told me these fibroids would keep me from getting pregnant. News I took with a grain of salt on a margarita glass in my swinging single days. Archer’s promise of a life filled with exotic travel that more kids would just get in the way of was another point in his column.

Now at thirty-seven, with forty breathing down my neck, I’m single and childless, facing the possibility of remaining that way. Unless I find a divorced dad... I shudder, triggered that the same thing will happen again. Just as with Archer.

“What do you recommend, doctor?” I clear my throat.

“There’s a new high-dose contraception that helps control the spread. It just hit the market.” He orders the meds on a laptop after confirming my pharmacy. “I recommend another ultrasound in three months. But if they keep growing, I also suggest a hysterectomy like your other doctors. Without it, you’re at risk for several different types of cancer.”

I cringe at the casual reference. “Can I stay on the new contraception meds forever?” Massive cramps get in the way of back-to-back, twelve-hour days for weekend weddings.

“A hysterectomy is the best solution to live pain-free. The discomfort will only get worse.” He circles something on the X-ray. “The presence of this particular fibroid hanging off the anterior of the uterus is coming close to piercing your colon.”

Great. I’ll lose my uterus and maybe my colon in the process .

Watching the chance to be a mother vanish before my eyes swamps me with sadness. It obliterates any outrageous and remote thought of staying married to Trace.

I can’t have children.

What would he say if I told him?

Doesn’t matter, I won’t make him choose between me and having kids.

THE WEEK PASSES WITH no word from Trace. On Saturday night, Larke, Erin—my stylist, and I hang out in my kitchen. It’s two a.m. We finished up another twenty-something’s wedding an hour ago. We’re polishing off a bottle of wine, and checking out online dating profiles while eating left-over wedding cake.

“This guy’s an astronaut,” Larke says, going through her app.

“Why is he single?” Erin asks, licking whipped cream off a spoon.

“An astronaut? Here in New York?” I ask.

Larke rolls her eyes. “Right. Kind of a bold lie to tell.”

“He tells you he lives here, but has to travel to Houston a lot.” I finish the last of the wine.

“Or the moon.” Erin giggles.

They’re both staying with me tonight. It’s too late to drive and we’re all a little smashed.

“We don’t go to the moon anymore, Erin,” I inform her.

She waves me off. “Space station, whatever. It’s a brilliant lie to tell.”

“Here’s a guy for you, Shea.” Erin reads from her tablet. “Six-two, blonde hair, green eyes, doctor, single father looking for discreet hookups only. Oh, says here he lives in Seattle but travels to New York on occasion to—”

I spray my wine across the table and grab the device. “Holy fucking shit, that’s my brother! ”

Larke grabs it. “The doctor I met?”

I exhale. “No, you met Cormac, his twin brother.”

“Jesus, they look exactly alike.” Larke keeps staring. “This one’s even hotter when you throw in the single dad part.”

I wave them off. “Guys. These are my younger brothers. Ew.”

“It should be illegal to have so many hot brothers,” Erin says, scrolling through Darragh’s photos.

And when some of them are murderers...

The bright moon shining through the large window at the back of my house catches my attention and I wander over to look at it. Trace’s suggestion about eating me out while we swim in my pool hasn’t left my mind.

Sigh, but I have to divorce him.