The Langfield Brothers: Box Set

4. Millie

FOUR

MILLIE

Holy shit. My dad’s best friend is tongue-fucking me on a bar top in the middle of Boston.

Despite Gavin’s assumptions, this is not how I expected the night to go. Yes, I came in here to seduce him. Yes, I knew precisely who he was when he walked in. And yes, I had every intention of giving him my virginity in a big fuck-you to my father.

But god, I had no idea it could feel like this.

The bar is completely empty and dark. The only light is coming from behind the bar. The way it shines on us leaves me feeling like I’m on a stage.

Not that I could perform right now if I tried. The man has me strung up. His tongue moves over my clit, achingly slow, like he’s savoring every moment with me, and god, is it unbelievably hot.

Another thing I didn’t plan on.

I figured that I’d have to kind of grin and bear it when I seduced him. Not because he isn’t good-looking. The man is gorgeous. And I chose him because he had a nice smile. That was the thing I noticed each time I saw him in photos with my father.

According to my dad, he’s the funny one. The fun one. The playboy of the group. Figured he was an ideal choice because, let’s be honest, it’d be nice if my first time didn’t suck. I’ve heard stories from friends who said most boys couldn’t even find their clit, let alone their G-spot.

But holy hell, Gavin sure knows his way around the female anatomy, and he’s hitting me right where it counts.

“Holy shit, that is…” I lose my words as he adds a finger and curls it upward. How in God’s name is he doing that? I feel…I can’t form a coherent thought. I blink a few times, hoping to ground myself. I’m supposed to be seducing him, not the other way around. “Gavin, please,” I beg, clamping my thighs down on his hand.

With a low chuckle, he nudges my thighs apart with his shoulders and holds them wide open. His dark eyes are molten as he watches me from between my legs. The sight is absolutely sinful. He’s still seated on his barstool, still in his crisp white button-down. Though he’s rolled his sleeves, and holy forearm porn, is that hot.

He splays one large hand across my bare leg, squeezing and kneading my flesh. “Need something, Peaches?”

Damn, I love that nickname. And I love that he has no idea who I am. I wasn’t sure I could pull it off at first, despite going with contacts instead of the big black-framed glasses I normally wear and styling my hair in loose waves instead of the bouncy, adorable natural curls.

Yes, on a regular day, I look like a sixteen-year-old Shirley Temple. I’m constantly carded, and for a long time, I was teased by the girls who pretended to be my friends because they were obsessed with my hockey star brother. Or my music executive father. Take your pick. Even now, people use me based on what they want. And honestly, for most of my life, I’ve let them, if only because it meant I’d be included.

Once my other brother started dating Lake, the hangers-on really came out of the woodwork. Suddenly, all of my supposed friends wanted to know if I could get them tickets to concerts. The students in my music program begged me to give her their demos or ask her to come to events on campus so she could listen to them.

Never mind how Lake’s appearance in my life only cast a bigger shadow over me and the music I was writing. Not that I ever told my family or Lake about my music.

Then, when Lake dumped my brother and started dating my dad, the comments and the way people treated me got vicious.

Right now, though, the last thing I should be focusing on is the way I lost my so-called friends left and right. Suddenly, everyone had a comment about my life. About my father. About me.

Tonight I’ve pushed aside that mousy girl who’s always hidden behind the scenes, watching life pass her by. I straightened my hair, then curled it into long waves. I traded my glasses for contacts, covered my freckles with foundation, and stained my lips a deep cranberry. The makeup and the dress both help me look my age, if not older, rather than like a starry-eyed teenager. But it’s the attitude that I think makes the most difference. I’ve finally stopped giving a damn. Or at least I’m giving the impression that I have.

I figured Gavin wouldn’t recognize me. He and my father are good friends, but their friendship has always revolved around meeting for drinks, and since my brother is a hockey superstar, it’s safe to say he comes up in conversation far more than me. He doesn’t come to family parties, nor was he around when I was growing up.

Right now, though, every ounce of his attention belongs to me, and damn if it isn’t going to my head.

To have a man as powerful, good-looking, entertaining, and charismatic—a man who, by all accounts, is the center of attention everywhere he goes—pay to have the bar cleared so he can have me to himself? That is going to my head.

The way he’s making me feel, though, can’t be normal. It’s like I’m about to come out of my skin, like I’m slightly ticklish but also euphoric. Is that—oh god—is that what an orgasm is? Am I?—

“I think—” I pant, gasping for air. “I think I’m coming.”

Gavin doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow. Eyes hooded, he watches me come apart beneath his fingertips. He wrings pleasure from me, and just as I’m balancing on the precipice, he leans down and sucks on my clit.

I thrash against the bar, hands splayed against the slick surface, unable to control myself. Head whipping from side to side and my body taking over, I kick him back, sending him hurtling toward the floor.

“Shit!” Gavin coughs out a laugh. “That’s a first.”

I scramble upright and find him sitting on the floor, his head hanging and his elbows on his knees.

Mortified, I grasp at the fabric of my skirt and tug to cover myself. “I’m so sorry.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He’s probably seconds away from hauling himself up and walking out.

My first male-induced orgasm—maybe my first ever orgasm—and I kicked him in the freaking stomach. What the hell is wrong with me?

“Are you okay?” I jump off the bar and land with a thud beside him.

Gavin makes a wheezing sound in response. My heart drops, and I cover my mouth, mortified. But when he tips his head back, his brown eyes dance with humor and his lips are pulled into a full smile.

“Holy fuck.” He lets out a deep, loud laugh that instantly forces my heart back to its rightful place in my chest. “That was insane.”

Arms crossed, I huff out a laugh and bump his leg with the toe of my shoe. “Ass. I thought you were hurt!”

“I could have been with the way you maimed me, but I’ll take your reaction as a sign that the orgasm I gave you was explosive.”

“Shut up,” I argue, though I’m laughing now too.

I cover my face. My skin is on fire, which means my freckles are getting darker. Too dark for my makeup to cover. I should go. This was enough revenge for tonight.

Disappointment clangs in my chest at the prospect. Now that I’ve spent time with Gavin, I wish it could be more than what we just did. He was fun. And more than that, I was fun. The person I conjured tonight is a person I like, and I don’t want to say goodbye to her. I don’t want to revert back to the woman I haven’t particularly liked much lately.

When he pushes to his feet and our eyes meet again, I find myself wanting to lean in closer to him. To sink into him and be kissed by him again. It’s unexpected. He is unexpected.

It’s suddenly clear that I didn’t think my plan through as thoroughly as I should have. Because every expectation I had has been obliterated by his smile.

He’s kind. And I’m an asshole for thinking I could go through with this to spite my father.

This isn’t me. Using this man. Or maybe it is. I’m awful.

Gavin’s smile falters as he steps closer to me. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m embarrassed.”

He cups my cheek, and when he caresses me softly with his thumb, I melt beneath his touch.

“Please don’t be. I’ll remember that moment for the rest of my life. The way you owned that orgasm. The way you exploded for me. Fuck, I love how responsive you are. How you know what you want. How you enjoy life. I see it in everything you’ve done tonight.” His dark irises are deep pools of sincerity as he dips a little closer so I’m forced to look at him. “Honestly, I’ve been in a bit of a funk for the last few months, and if you hadn’t called me on it, I’d still be. But god, you knocked me on my ass tonight.”

I giggle, my eyes falling shut. “I mean, I did.”

He laughs, and when I open my eyes, he’s pressing his lips to mine again. It’s gentle and explorative. Like he’s testing the waters. I taste myself on him, which is new, but I don’t exactly hate it. When I moan in response to the tingles coursing through me, he nips at my lips.

“Can I take you back to my place?”

My breath catches, and I take a step back. I’m not surprised by his request, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea. I want to spend more time with him. I want to sleep with him. And my reasons have nothing to do with my father. I understand Gavin. I relate to him. What he said before, about being in a rut, that’s been me. Tonight, for the first time in months, I’ve felt anything other than anger and hurt.

But it can’t go past tonight, and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to walk away once we sleep together.

“I’m not sure.”

The genuine smile that splits Gavin’s face almost takes my breath away. “What if we just go for a walk?”

I eye the stained-glass windows near the entrance. Each is a different color—red, green, blue, and purple—and impossible to truly see through, but I can hear the rain coming down heavily outside. “A walk in the rain?”

Gavin’s face falls. “That was dumb. Sorry.”

“No.” I swallow, searching for an explanation that would make any sense at all. “It’s—I’m just?—”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.” He’s giving me a smile again, but his shoulders are slumped and his eyes are sad. “I just liked hanging out with you.”

I bite my bottom lip.

He leans close and kisses me once more, his warm palm still pressed to my cheek. “It’s okay, Peaches. I had a great time with you tonight. Thank you.” He clears his throat. “I’ll call my driver, then I can take you home.”

He pulls away, and already, I’m second-guessing myself. As he takes out his phone and murmurs what I assume are instructions to his driver, all I can think is that I’m not ready for this night to end.

My phone buzzes, and I regret looking at the message as soon as I pull it out.

Mom: Your father posted a photo of Lake with a view of the beach behind her on Instagram. Gag me. I can’t believe he’s really doing this.

In rapid succession, they continue.

Mom: What time will you be home?

Mom: I bought a bottle of wine and rented the new J. Lo movie. Or we could look up ways to covertly ruin a wedding. He’d never suspect it was you. LOL.

I roll my eyes, even as my heart sinks. I don’t understand why my mother is taking my father’s engagement so hard. They haven’t been together in over a decade, and mom has been in plenty of relationships over the years. Though she always has loved drama, and she’s exceptionally good at putting my siblings and me in the middle of her fights with Dad.

Tonight, my family drama is the last thing I want to think about. Which is ironic, considering that I came in here seeking revenge for exactly that.

My father and my brothers have moved on with their lives, while I’m stuck in an endless cycle with a woman who’s still living in the past. Who’s constantly trying to turn me into her little doll. Whether it’s dressing me up in clothes she thinks I should wear or nagging me about the kind of men I should date, she considers me her project. While we’re all in Aruba for my father’s wedding, she’ll no doubt spend the week texting me incessantly about how awful my new stepmother is.

My phone buzzes again. This time the messages that appear have me shrinking into myself.

Chrishell: Holy crap. TMZ just released pics of your father with Lake on the beach in Aruba. Are you going to the wedding?

Taylor: Or did they elope without telling you?

Chrishell: Is Daniel bringing a date? If you’re going, bring Taylor as your plus-one, and I’ll be Daniel’s date.

Taylor: She’s probably not invited, Chrish. Drop it.

My “best friends” are awful. A petty part of me would love to send them a sneaky photo of Gavin right now and tell them exactly what I just did. They’d never believe it. But I feel oddly protective of this moment. If I told them, they’d figure out a way to make it about them, and for one night, I want something just for me.

“Ready?” Gavin asks, interrupting my downward spiral.

Am I ready? This is the moment to decide. I planned and schemed, and all the while I believed I was ready for tonight, but I can admit now that I could never have gone through with it if not for the man who’s watching me right now, looking at me like he’ll respect whatever decision I make. Like he’s just happy that he got to spend time with me tonight. Content with the fact that he did what he did, with no expectation of anything in return.

But do I want our night to end here? For one night, I don’t want to think about my family. I don’t want to focus on my reality. How my father is marrying a woman half his age and how, once I return from his wedding, I’ll still be living with my mother. I’ll pick up where I left off, dealing with her daily tantrums and drama. I don’t want to remember how awful Chrishell and Taylor are. How they masquerade their commentary on me and my life as something real friends do.

I take his proffered hand, and for a moment, all I can do is think about the way it engulfs mine. When I finally look up, he’s smiling at me, his eyes warm and understanding.

“I’d like you to take me to your home,” I say quietly, gauging his reaction.

There’s no cocky smirk in response. Instead, his face lights up with genuine joy. Then he nods before pressing a soft kiss against my forehead. It’s comforting and sweet and makes me feel safe.

He’s absolutely the right person for me to do this with. Every cell in my body can sense it. He’s the right man to give my virginity to. A man I trust to make it good.

Trust . That word is like a lead ball sinking in my stomach. Because while I know who he is, he’s still oblivious to my real identity.

I second-guess my decision a thousand times during the five-minute ride to his place, but then we’re pulling into the parking garage and he’s ushering me into the elevator.

His home boasts beautiful views of the city and a gourmet kitchen. The artwork on the walls and candles and books on display make the space feel just as warm and comforting as Gavin himself.

Gavin’s age and wealth and experience are evident in every crevice. With each step I take, I feel more unprepared. More inexperienced. More unsure that I can make him feel good. That last part has, for some reason, become paramount.

Used to messy dorms that smell like beer and boys whose clothes are wrinkled and whose sheets haven’t been washed since god knows when, I’m completely out of my element when Gavin rounds the bar and offers me a glass of wine.

I do my best not to nod too eagerly, but a little liquid courage couldn’t hurt. And the red he’s poured for me is incredible.

“Thank you.”

He taps his glass against mine. “We don’t have to do anything, Peaches. If you want to just hang out on the couch and talk, I’d be more than happy with that.”

I take a long sip of wine and then set the glass on the bar top.

Gavin watches me, expression thoughtful, as I take his glass and do the same. When I slip my hand in his and tug, his brows shoot up, and a pleased smile graces his face. Then I lead him down the hall to where I can only assume the bedrooms are, hoping like hell I’m not making a fool of myself.

Gavin hovers behind me, resting a warm hand on the small of my back. As we continue down the hall, he uses his free hand to push my hair to the side and kisses the space between my neck and shoulder.

“To the left,” he directs.

I push open the door and step into his room. With a deep breath in, I allow myself a moment to find my bearings.

The space is simple. A television on one wall, a dresser, a door that likely leads to the master bath. The second door is open, and beyond it is a large walk-in closet.

Then there’s the bed. A king-size bed covered in black bedding. Simple and masculine. The divine scent that envelops me—expensive cologne and man—makes me want to jump onto the bed, sink against the sheets, and just inhale.

Gavin slides his hands up and down my arms as he continues to press soft kisses along my neck. “Is this okay?” he whispers against my skin.

I nod, a little shaky at the sensation and the care with which he treats me, and suck in another breath. He’s everywhere. In this room, against my body. My senses are in overdrive, though my nerves are settling.

“Can I take this off?” He slips one hand down to the hem of my dress.

“Yes. Please.”

He lets out an unsteady breath against my shoulder, the warm air sending goose bumps skittering along my skin, and then he’s lifting the dress.

I raise my arms to help him take it off, and then I’m standing before him in nothing but a pair of panties.

“Fuck. No bra,” he murmurs, sliding his hands up my stomach. When he gets to my chest, he stops and takes his time palming my breasts, then tweaking and rubbing my already too sensitive nipples.

“Don’t like them,” I admit, dropping my head back against his shoulder.

“I want to turn you around so I can see your face, but damn if I don’t love holding your tits like this. Fuck, Peaches, you are perfect.”

Barely. My hips are wide, I’m short, and I’ve got a bit of a tummy that will never go away. My breasts are a good size, though they’re not proportionate to my hips. I wouldn’t consider my shape to be an hourglass, but it’s dark in this room, the only light coming from the city outside the floor-to-ceiling window, and Gavin is hard against my back, so I don’t think he’s disappointed by my body.

I turn in his arms, because I want to see his face too, and he’s on me, kissing my lips, my jaw, my neck, and running his hands up and down my body, moaning about how good I feel, how beautiful I am, and how lucky he is that I’m allowing him to touch me.

Legs shaky, I cling to him. I’m drunk on his words. Drunk on the taste of him. Desire pools low in my belly. The lust-filled haze makes me dizzy and giddy and excited.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” I say, working the top button of his shirt. Despite my nerves, my fingers don’t tremble and maintaining eye contact is the most natural sensation.

His smile sends not just heat but warmth coursing through me. “I need to taste you again,” he murmurs. Then he’s cupping me, sliding a finger under my panties and groaning when he finds me wet. “I can’t wait to slide my cock in here. To feel how tight and warm you are.”

I whimper at the images that hit me at his words and slide his shirt off his shoulders.

Taking a single step back, I drink him in. My breath catches in my throat as I catalog every ridge and dip along his chest and abdomen. His skin is tan and smooth, begging me to touch it. Hand splayed, I press it to his pec, then trail lower, lingering on his six-pack, rolling my fingers over each one.

Gavin undoes his belt and then his button and zipper, and then he’s sliding down his pants and revealing his massively hard dick.

“Holy fuck,” I whisper. On instinct, I palm him and work my hand up and down the length, imagining the way he’ll feel inside me.

He’s huge, and suddenly, I’m worried it won’t fit.

My fears are pushed aside when he asks, “Are you on birth control?”

“Yes.” The single word is all I can manage. Thank god too, because my thoughts are nothing but rambling nonsense. Certainly not sexy.

If he’d asked anything else, I may have stumbled through an incoherent sentence or two, but the birth control thing was easy. I’ve been on it for years to help with my horrible cramps.

“Fuck, Peaches, I’m losing my mind. You’re squeezing my fingers so perfectly. I can’t wait to get inside you. Tell me you’ll let me have you. Tell me you’re mine tonight.”

“Yours, Gavin, I’m all yours,” I promise.

I’ve never been anyone else’s. Will he know? Should I tell him? Before I can consider, he sucks my nipple into his mouth and rolls his tongue over it, and all my thoughts blur.

“I’m going to make you come one more time on my tongue,” he says, still worshipping my breasts.

“You’ve already made me come once,” I breathe, dropping my head back and tugging at his hair. “I should take care of you.”

Gavin nips at my nipple, pulling a squeal from me. “Letting me eat you out is taking care of me, Peaches. You’re feeding me my goddamn favorite snack. Now please, can I eat?”

I smile through the haze of bliss surrounding me. “Who am I to argue with that logic?”

The chuckle that works its way out of him is dark. “You aren’t. I’m older and therefore much wiser. You should listen to me.”

So damn giddy, I giggle. “I wasn’t going to point out how old you are.”

“Brat,” he teases as he picks me up. His mouth is on me the whole way to his bed, kissing and nipping at my shoulder. He only stops when he tosses me onto the mattress. “But a beautiful brat. Such a beautiful brat.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I breathe, relishing the soft bedding and the heat of his attention on me. “That’s what you tell all the girls.”

Gavin cages me in, a hand planted on the bed on either side of my head. “I really don’t. And it’s been a long time since I’ve wanted anything the way I want you right now.”

God, this man.

With deft fingers, he slides my panties off. Then he presses soft kisses up my thighs and settles my legs on his shoulders. The feel of his skin beneath mine is surreal. His warmth seeps into me, and the heat is only compounded when his tongue hits me. The world goes even more hazy. When he flattens his tongue against my sex and then licks, I’m already dangerously close to the edge. “Oh fuck, that feels good.”

His chuckle is a brush of air against me, making my whole body clench. “You’re so damn tight. You might break my dick.” With a groan, he slides two fingers inside me, stretching me.

“I—” I pant, unease suddenly battling with rapture. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh, Peaches.” He curls his fingers inside me. “I’d gladly suffer for you. Break me, torture me with this perfect pussy, just promise you’ll kiss it better.”

My responding laugh quickly transforms into a moan.

I’m not sure what he does with those fingers and that tongue, but only seconds later, a wave crashes over me, rumbling through my body, dragging me under, leaving me breathless and wet and oh so desperate for him. “Please, Gav.”

He drags himself up, peppering kisses along my hips, my abdomen, between my breasts, until his lips meet mine. I wrap my arm around his neck and my legs around his hips, pulling him closer and rubbing against his hard cock.

“Shit.” The sensation makes my eyes roll back in my head. Why does everything this man does feel good?

He grinds down and lets out a low moan that sends tingles down my spine. It’s deep and so fucking sexy. “Peaches, you keep doing that, and I’m going to come all over your stomach.”

I roll my hips, relishing the zap of electricity that shoots through me, working myself over more fervently. This time, the head of his cock edges close to my entrance, dipping inside before he rubs it against my clit.

“Yes, that feels so good,” I murmur, burying my face in the crook of his neck.

“I should get a condom.”

“Yes,” I say, even as I rub against him again and practically ignite when he sinks in just a little farther than before. My body is desperate for him, sucking him in, begging to be filled.

“Just a second.” He kisses me, slow and deep, and this time, he lifts up a little farther, and now his cock aligns perfectly at my entrance as he grinds down.

“Yeah, let’s just—” My words are cut off when he flexes his hips and slips inside again. Just the head of his cock breaches my entrance, but with another slight move, he sinks deeper. This time, the pain hits, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

“Breathe, baby. I got you.” His words are a soft caress, and then his lips coax gentle kisses from me, relaxing me further. “I want to take this slow,” he adds. “It’s been forever for me, and I want to last.”

He pulls back and holds my gaze, his brown irises infinite pools of desire and comfort as he presses in farther.

He’s only saying that because he knows that it hurts. Despite his words, I see the care and concern etched into the lines on his face. If I had to bet, he knows precisely what I’m giving him right now, and he’s taking it with a graciousness I never knew existed.

“Okay, I’m good,” I say through another breath.

“Baby.” Gavin dips in and pecks my lips. “I’m not even halfway. But we can stop if you want.”

When he lifts up again, I dip my chin to get a good look at us. Holy shit, there’s at least another four inches just hanging out there.

Deep breaths. I want this. I need this.

“Please don’t stop.”

With a hum, he licks at the seam of my lips, and when I open, he sweeps his tongue along mine while at the same time sinking deeper inside me, one inch, then another. With every heartbeat, I settle a bit more into the feeling.

“Okay, we’re there,” he says gently, holding himself above me, his face cast in shadow.

“God, I feel so full,” I admit.

“Is it okay? Are you in pain?” He goes rigid with concern, his arms locked on either side of my head.

I dig my fingers into his tense shoulders and pull him closer. “I’m okay now. Can you—um—” I fumble for words. I actually don’t know what to do now. He’s inside me. Do I lift my hips? Can he move? Is it really possible I could break his dick if I’m not careful? The ridiculous thoughts swirling in my head make it impossible for me to focus.

“I’m going to move now. You’re squeezing me so tight I might actually be a one-minute man,” he says, lightening the mood.

“Okay.” I exhale a shaky breath. “Just do what you do.”

Gavin nuzzles his face into my hair and laughs. The vibrations work their way through me, making me needier, despite the humor of the moment.

Is it weird that we’re laughing while he’s buried inside me? It doesn’t feel weird. I like his smile. I like having him this close to me. And I really like the way he feels when he slides out and then back in again.

“Oh, that feels good,” I tell him.

“Good. Keep telling me how it feels, baby. I want to make this good for you.”

With every thrust, my body relaxes, the initial pinch of pain a distant memory. Now the stretch of him is a sensation so all-consuming I can’t help but rub against him, searching for more friction.

“So good,” I pant.

“I want to see your tits bounce while you ride me,” he says, his thrusts punishing and his rhythm steady. “Can we do that?”

He’s the expert, and I’m eager to follow his lead. “Yes, okay, sure.”

Without hesitation, he slides one arm under my back and flips me with ease. Straddling him like this, I’m even more full than I was before. After he gives me a moment to adjust, he works me over him, moving his hips in a way that hits the most perfect spot deep inside me.

Gavin leans up and sucks my nipple into his mouth, and I see fucking stars.

“Holy shit. Yes,” I say as I grind against him.

He drops back to the mattress and then rubs my clit in time with his movements. That’s all it takes to send me flying over the edge. This time as I come, I spasm around him, and he’s the one crying out.

“Oh fuck, Peaches. Where do you want my cum?”

“Inside me,” I pant, head thrown back. I want to feel everything. I want to know precisely what it feels like to have this man completely spent and losing control.

Maybe it’s my words or maybe it’s the way my orgasm squeezes him, because instantly, he’s groaning and going stiff as he shoots inside me.

When his cock twitches, he drags an aftershock of another orgasm from me, sending sparks dancing along my nerve endings.

I fall against his chest, our heavy breaths matching, our hearts beating wildly against one another.

“That was incredible,” I whisper.

For a long moment, Gavin is silent, just holding me tightly. Once our breathing has evened out and our hearts tap out steady rhythms, he presses a kiss against my forehead. “Be right back.” He eases me to the bed beside him, then heads for the bathroom.

For the first time tonight, I feel awkward, and I don’t know what to do.

When I hear water running, my heart sinks. Okay, I guess that’s it. He’s going to take a shower, and I should probably go.

Embarrassment swells and settles in my chest. Why do I want to cry? What is wrong with me? I grab a tissue from the nightstand and use it to clean myself up as best as I can. Then I toss it in the trash, ignoring the blood.

I’m grabbing my dress from the floor, ready to throw it on quickly and get out, when the door to the bathroom opens.

“Where are you going?”

“Um, I—” My heart seizes as I search the bed for my panties.

Where are my panties?

“I ran a bath for you,” he says, taking a step into the room.

“Oh, you don’t need to do that. I get how this works.” Keeping my head down, I continue my search. “We had sex. It was amazing. Thank you. I’ll get out of your hair now.”

With the bathroom light casting him in silhouette, he plants his hands on his hips and watches me. “I know it was your first time.”

My skin heats with morbid embarrassment. “Is it that obvious how inexperienced I am?”

Gavin stalks toward me, completely naked. When he approaches, he brushes my hair from my face and slides his hand to my neck. Lowering his head, he forces me to meet his eye. “No, Peaches. You were perfect. And because I’m livid with myself for having taken that from you after only just meeting you, I’d really appreciate it if you’d let me take care of you. I ran a bath for you. You’re probably sore.”

“Cocky much.” The humor I’m going for falls flat because of the tears clogging my throat. God, I didn’t expect this to be so emotional.

“Maybe,” he murmurs, though I think we both know he’s just being kind. He sees I’m emotional, sees the tears welling in my eyes, and scoops me up and carries me into the bathroom.

The space is massive, all black marble and specks of gold. There’s a shower big enough for at least two and an oversized jacuzzi tub filled with bubbles.

Gavin settles me on the edge of it and then leans in to feel the water. “Not too hot. You want to get in?”

I nod and almost cry out the second my body hits the water, the heat burning my sensitive bits.

“You okay?” The lines in his brow are deep with concern.

How many times is he going to ask that, and when will my answer actually be honest?

“I’m fine. You going to get in?”

With a smirk, he slides in behind me, and as soon as he wraps his arms around me, holding me against his chest, the first tear breaks loose. Like an avalanche that I can’t possibly stop, another one falls, and then another until I’m silently crying in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m not sure why I’m so emotional.”

“That’s okay,” he says far too gently for how this night began. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two,” I hiccup.

“Jesus.” He sucks in a harsh breath and then squeezes me tighter.

“That bad?” I let out a trembling laugh.

“No, I just—Fuck, my best friend’s kids are twenty-two. Makes me feel old is all.”

I wince. Shit. He’s talking about my brother and me and he has no idea. Swallowing back the guilt, I tip my head back and eye him above me. “Believe me, you can keep up.”

His chest rumbles behind me. “You bet your ass I can. Why do you think I’m pampering you now? Gotta get you ready for another round.”

I hum as he lathers me with soap and washes me gently.

“Will you tell me your name now?”

“I rather like Peaches.”

This laugh is laced with a little resignation. “I happen to like you too.”

I spin and drape my legs over his hips so we’re face to face, and my heart trips over itself at the sight of him. His dark brown hair is mussed and his cheeks are flushed from the heat of the water. The gold flecks in his brown irises make his eyes sparkle.

“I didn’t say I like you . I said I like the nickname.”

His tongue slides against his bottom lip, and then he bites down on the same spot. “But you do.” It isn’t a question, so he doesn’t wait for a response. Instead, he angles in and gives me a gentle kiss.

He’s right. I really do. But it doesn’t matter, because soon, he won’t like me very much. I swallow that thought down and decide to enjoy what little time we have.

“If you could do anything in life, what would it be?” he asks.

The question surprises me, though the answer comes easily. If my father didn’t own a wildly successful music label, and if he wasn’t about to marry the biggest pop star in the world, I’d write music.

I’d planned to tell my father about my dream, but on the night we were set to have dinner together, he announced to the world in a fucking stupid display of lust that he was sleeping with my brother’s ex-girlfriend.

A woman who is only four years older than me and the biggest musician on his label.

So fucking cliché.

I was mortified, but it was so much more than that.

On top of the embarrassment, it felt as though she’d taken my place. Because I’d dreamed of being involved in the music industry, working alongside my dad, who had seemed lonely. I thought I’d be enough.

But now he has her and little time for me.

Sure, he still invites me to meet him—or worse, them—for dinner, but I know they’re pity invites. He’d rather be with her. He merely feels obligated to me.

He’d rather make music with her. Spend time with her.

For so long, I had no one but my father, and I always thought he only had me—which made me feel not so alone in this world. But now…

“Write music,” I admit, because my mind is so jumbled there’s no way I can come up with a credible lie.

Gavin gazes down at me warmly. “You have talent. Why don’t you do that?”

“Because I played an old tune in a bar to a crowd of intoxicated people, you think I have the talent to write good music?” My tone is all humor. I enjoy sparring with this man.

He shrugs. “Yeah. Your voice was incredible. You’re mesmerizing.”

“He says while I’m naked and sprawled across his lap.”

His laughter echoes off the bathroom walls as he shakes beneath me. “No. That was the first thought that came to me when I stepped into the bar. I’d barely seen you, and I was utterly bewitched. Besotted.”

“Besotted?” I tease, relishing the joy dancing in the air between us.

“Besotted,” he says, firmer, brown eyes glazing.

“And what about you? If you could do anything, what would it be?”

He arches one brow. “I see you’re just going to ignore my question.”

I press my lips together, silently imploring him to keep going, because yes, I’m doing just that.

He sighs and rubs circles against my back, the water sloshing around us. It’s warm in the bath. Against his chest. I’m not quite sure I’ve ever felt so comfortable. Or so comforted. It’s unexplainable, that a stranger could put me at ease this way. For now, I can’t dissect the implications, so I push the thoughts away, determined to live in the moment.

“I’d coach hockey.”

I try to hide my surprise, because I happen to know he owns a team. Not that he knows that I know that. Why would he prefer coaching a team when he can—and does—own the whole damn thing? If I asked him about what he does, maybe he’d explain, but if I ask, then I’m only adding another infraction to the list I’ve committed tonight. Now that I’ve gotten to know him, I want to lie as little as possible.

Because I like him.

A lot.

“Why hockey?”

“Oh god, why not?” he says with a laugh. “Best sport ever.”

“So why aren’t you coaching?”

He shrugs. “I was groomed to work in an office. I guess I never considered coaching as a real option for a profession.”

The furrow in his brow makes it obvious that even now, he’s thinking of all the reasons why he’d love to coach and all the reasons why he can’t.

Like me, he can’t go after what he wants, and I hate that for him.

I hate it for me too.

But I can’t solve those problems for either of us. And soon, he won’t care one bit about my opinion. For now, I just want to see him smile at me for a little while longer. And I want to bring him the kind of joy he’s brought me for the last few hours.

“So tell me, Coach, how do you feel about blow jobs?”