CHAPTER TWELVE
My words ring through the room. Long moments of silence pass.
Nia bites her lip with a little shiver. “You didn’t mention that.”
“Now I am. Will you let me?”
She doesn’t answer with words, simply walks to the middle of the blanket and drops to her knees in a graceful slide. Next, she falls on her hands and arches her back, lifting to me.
I almost lose my fucking mind. That ass. It’s right in front of me—juicy, taut, round. And between her legs, I see her pouting pussy, wet and plump and dark with need.
I fall to my knees behind her. Keeping my hands off her flesh is too much to ask. As if they have a mind of their own, my palms glide over the small of her back, down her butt in a caress that should tell her exactly how much I covet her, then dip between her thighs. Yes, she’s as drenched as she looks.
Bending to her, I whisper in her ear, “Do you like being spanked?”
“M-Maybe.”
That tells me nothing. I need more information to proceed, and my patience is thinning. My hands are shaking. My cock stands up, stretching desperately as if I haven’t had an orgasm in months, rather than minutes.
“Explain,” I demand.
“I’ve only done this twice. Once, it was…” She shakes her head. “Wrong mood, I guess. Too playful, maybe? I giggled the whole time.”
“I’m not feeling playful.”
Nia turns her gaze over her shoulder at me. “I know.”
“The second time?”
“It hurt. A lot. He was angry.”
I glower, my hand tightening protectively on her flesh. “No man should ever hit you in anger.”
“That’s why it’s the last time he ever touched me.”
Gnashing my teeth, I resist the urge to ask who and when and where to find this prick. I want to beat the shit out of him. I want to make sure he understands that he should never have touched Nia at all, much less in any way that hurt or scared her.
“Evan…” Her gentle voice sounds like she’s talking me off a ledge. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not.”
“I’m fine.”
“He doesn’t deserve to breathe.”
That makes her smile. “He was an insecure, immature asshole, and that’s why we’re done now. Let it go.”
I’d rather not, but I understand her point. This is about us.
I drag in a steadying breath and trail my gaze over her exposed backside again. I want that. I want her. But I want to give her pleasure, too.
“Tell me exactly how this makes you feel.”
“What?”
I lift my hand. Adrenaline surges through my system, but I restrain myself. The last thing I want to do is frighten her or give her any reason to think we’re incompatible and she needs to show me the door.
My swat lands on her right cheek, a dull thud meant to test her reaction more than assuage the hunger roaring inside me, which I don’t fully understand.
“Nia?”
She tilts her head to look at me again. “Are you testing to see if I’m awake? Because I am and that wasn’t a spanking.”
“Do you want it harder?”
“What do you want?”
I swallow, gather my thoughts. She’s been open-minded and receptive so far. If she doesn’t like something, she’ll let me know.
“To spank you harder. To make you claw, gasp, and beg.”
Fuck, this woman has a way of peering inside my head and knowing exactly how to put me on edge. I like it. No, I love it and I want more.
“Absolutely nothing.”
Except the fact I don’t really know how this is done. But is there a science to it? Spanking classes I should take? I swallow a scoff. I don’t need to logic this through. I just need to do it.
Rearing back, I lift my hand to her again. I swoop down with a whoosh and strike her left cheek. Satisfaction winds through me at the sound of the crack of my palm to her skin. At the way her breath catches and her body braces. At the visual of my big, pale hands against her soft, dark flesh. Everything about it turns me on. Everything about her turns me on.
“One,” she counts, her voice almost a breathy sob.
I don’t ask if she likes it. Her body language and the hitch in that one syllable tell me she does.
“We’ll go to ten,” I tell her.
I hope that will be enough to satisfy the straining, stretching dark side rooting around in my body and filling my brain with more sensual images than I can process.
“Yes, Sir.”
That shouldn’t turn me on half as much as it does, but yeah… The impatience to slowly, sensually spank her to incoherent arousal before I fuck her into panting, screaming sobs claws at my restraint.
“Damn it, Nia…” I curse her even as I land another blow to her right cheek, this one higher and harder than the first.
Her body bucks. “Two.”
After that, I get into a rhythm. Left and low. Right and high. In the center. On her thigh.
“Six.”
She’s panting now, and something inside me I don’t understand is eating this up. I cup her pussy and find she’s even wetter than before. At my touch, she tosses her head, wriggles her hips…
“Evan?”
She wants me to forget seven through ten and simply get inside her.
I fist her hair and lean over her as I force her to look at me, shaking my head in answer. “No. I made you a promise. Unless something hurts too much to carry on?”
But I already know she’s not in pain, and I can’t deny that I’m enjoying this even more than I imagined.
I remember reading once that the body’s biggest sex organ is the brain. I’m finally understanding what that means.
“It does,” she protests.
“Where?”
“My clit.”
“I’ll make it all better…eventually.” I laugh, mimicking her earlier words.
She mewls in protest, but when I nudge her thighs wider apart, she doesn’t do anything except rush to comply. Blows eight and nine fall in the center of each cheek. The last strike I can’t resist. I swing low, far gentler than before, and swat her swollen sex.
That makes Nia gasp, then let out a low, aroused moan.
“What number was that?” I prompt.
Why am I enjoying this so much? I’m not sure. We both know the answer to my question, but I need to hear her say it. Because, for the first time in my life, I’m able to have more than a cursory say-so about the sex I have? Because I’m finally able to act out the fantasies in my head? I’m sure there’s a rationale here, but puzzling through it now is the last thing I want to do.
“Ten,” she keens out. “Evan, please…”
I linger, my fingers tracing her slick folds, breezing over her hard clit. “Did you enjoy that?”
Again, I know the answer. I like making her admit the truth. I enjoy feeling arousal at more than a physical level, beyond skin and bone and cock. Our exchange now? It’s as if we’ve entered something forbidden together. As if my brain being engaged is ramping up the rest of my responses.
“Yes. God, yes.”
Her panting confession tells me it’s the same for her.
Maybe a stronger man would toy with her, make her wait more. But she already sounds desperate. No denying I’m more aroused than I’ve ever been, and it’s all I can do to make my shaking hands rip into the condom. It still feels foreign to roll it down my length, but I do it hastily, then position my knees between her spread calves and grip her hips.
“Good. I did, too. Ready?”
Nia doesn’t answer with words, simply arches her back, lifts her ass even higher, and wiggles impatiently.
I’ll never turn down that invitation.
Fitting my cock against her opening, I slide into her slick sex. And I groan long and low, filling the room with the sound of my need. She’s scalding and tight, and the fact she’s fulfilling another one of my fantasies notches me up even more.
Urgency drives me. I set a hard pace, shuttling in and out so fast it’s a blur. Nia throws her head back, digs her fingers into the blanket, wailing for more. She tightens—a good sign. But I’m already dangerously close to orgasm. After sharing something I’ve wanted for a decade with the woman I want more than any other? It’s a recipe to lose control.
“Reach down,” she manages to pant out. “Rub my clit.”
Happily. I want to do whatever she needs to climax. If my brain was functioning, I would have figured out that manual stimulation would get her there faster. Not that I want to rush this, but I’m like a freight train without brakes. There’s no slowing this down.
The second I get my fingers right where she needs them, Nia lets out a needy, high-pitched cry and jolts in orgasm. Around me, I feel her contract, squeeze, milk me. It’s all over, then. After a handful of harsh, jerking thrusts, I’m shuddering and bellowing and shouting out a rough growl of ecstasy.
It seems like hours before my breath turns normal, before the sheen of sweat covering my body begins to cool, before I can even move.
Finally, I press a kiss to her shoulder, then gently withdraw and lay another kiss at the base of her spine. “You okay?”
She turns to face me with a loopy smile and nuzzles my neck. “Better than okay. I feel…” She stretches happily, even wiggling her toes. “Fantastic.”
Smiling from ear to ear, I head to the kitchen and dispose of the condom. When I return, I take in her nudity as she fluffs her hair and sighs with satisfaction.
“How are your cuddling skills?” she asks.
We’ve had sex multiple times, but I realize we’ve never lingered. I haven’t really touched her afterward.
“Probably terrible.” I wince.
“Too impatient?”
“No experience. Becca didn’t like to be touched after sex.” Honestly, she didn’t like to be touched much at all.
“Oh, I’m the opposite. This will be new. Shall we go to bed and give it a try?”
Where she’s been with other men. “No. Let’s do it here.”
“You’re serious about avoiding my mattress?” She scans my face and rolls her eyes. “Of course you are. Okay…”
Nia wraps her arms around me and urges me down to the floor. We lie face-to-face, and she slings her thigh over me, caressing my face and kissing me softly. “I’m not going to stop telling you I love you.”
Her words don’t shock me as much as they did the first time. I don’t hate them; I simply don’t comprehend what I feel.
“I don’t think I want you to,” I admit softly, kissing the tip of her nose.
Being so close to her, so intimate, without the burning heat of passion, is novel. It’s…nice.
I pull her closer. “I’m not going to stop asking you to marry me.”
She smiles back at me. “I don’t think I want you to.”
“Then what do we do?” About our futures? About our impasse?
“Evan, let it lie for now. We don’t need the answers tonight. We just need to be with one another. We’ll figure it out.”
Despite the fact I hate leaving tasks unfinished, I don’t know what else to do. My usual silent calm is a humming swing-sway of energy. It’s as if someone barged into my brain, took the orderly boxes I’ve stacked all my thoughts and notions into, then upended them, forcing the lids open and spilling the contents everywhere. In the resulting chaos, I don’t know what to think. Feelings are unavoidable. I can’t seem to process them. They pelt me with pinpricks from every direction.
Is this love? Is what I’m feeling for Nia that I didn’t feel for Becca finally, truly the real thing? I don’t know. But as I pull her closer and she lays her head against my chest, I’m happy. No, I’m ecstatic. So instead of trying to apply different forms of logic to my thoughts to reach a reasonable conclusion, I’m going to take Bas’s advice and just go with it. Why not? So far, it feels really damn good.
Monday, November 27
Monday comes, and I find myself falling into familiar routines. I’m not used to vacation. In the years since I started Stratus, I can’t think of any real time off I’ve taken. Hell, I barely left the office for seven hours when Becca died—the afternoon of the wreck and the morning of the funeral. Despite everyone encouraging me to take more time to grieve, I didn’t see how hanging around my empty house would help me cope with losing my wife. Now that I’m with Nia, I’m determined to enjoy this time we have together…but she has to wake up first.
Damn, I’m envious of her ability to sleep.
After kissing her forehead, I rise up from our pallet on the floor with a groan. That’s a backache I could have done without. Tonight we’ll spend in a comfortable bed, damn it. I’m getting us a new mattress today.
After quickly brushing my teeth, I fish out last week’s gym clothes from my suitcase, vowing to swing by my apartment and pick up more after my workout. Then I down half a cup of coffee and pick up a bottle of water. I make it to the gym by five thirty a.m.
I slacked off on workouts when I was in Maui, and I feel lethargic this morning. All the lazy satisfaction humming in my veins could be contributing, too. I push myself through a grueling hour and a half, then remove my earbuds and head out.
When I exit and make my way toward my car in the relatively empty lot, I spot a blonde dressed in an impeccable gray suit and a crisp white blouse standing beside it. She’s looking at me expectantly, as if she’s been waiting.
“Mr. Cook?”
“Yeah.” I approach cautiously. “Who are you? Is there a problem?”
“I’d like to talk to you. My name is Bethany Banks…but I’m also a Reed.”
Her words have the impact of a gut-punch. “You’re Barclay’s other daughter?”
“Yes.”
So she’s my missing half sister. Holy shit.
I know from talking to Maxon that our old man likes to boff his assistants. A lot. He seemed to take a particular perverse pleasure in impregnating them. My mother wasn’t the first or the last. In fact, Bethany is a few years older than me, and up until now, none of the Reed children have ever spoken to her. No one knew where to find her. I can’t help but wonder why she picked me and why she chose now to make contact.
“Wow. This is a surprise. I…um, it’s good to meet you. Are you here because you want to know your siblings?”
“Just you. I have no interest in the others. They’re ungrateful offspring who are apparently relishing their father’s misery and downfall. I’m hoping you’re different and that your opinion is more open since your contact with him has been limited.”
“You know him well?” I frown.
“I grew up with him. I’ve worked for him my entire adult life. Look, I know the others have told you stories about what a terrible human being he supposedly is. The tall tales are greatly exaggerated. There’s another side to the story I think you should hear. Is there someplace we can talk?”
There is and we could, but I still have questions. “How did you find me?”
She frowns as if the question is so simple it’s almost beneath answering. “You’re a creature of habit. Except for last week, you leave the gym no later than seven every morning. I merely waited, hoping to intercept you.”
My mind is blown. “You’ve been following me?”
She hesitates. “I’ve suspected for a while we might need to have this conversation. Now, circumstances have arisen that make me realize I was right. Where can we go?”
For the most part, I don’t want to talk to her. I don’t know everything Barclay inflicted on my siblings, but I can’t forget my personal experience with the bastard. He’s dismissive, self-absorbed, and manipulating. I can’t imagine what Bethany can say to change my opinion or why she’s even bothering to try. On the other hand, I’m curious. If she’s not interested in family dynamics, what does she want? I don’t know, but at the very least, Maxon, Griff, and Harlow will want information about the sister they’ve never met.
“Not from Seattle?”
Bethany shakes her head. “I’m based in San Diego.”
She traveled twelve hundred miles to see me? This exchange is getting weirder and weirder.
“Around the corner. There’s a bagel and organic coffee place.” I’ve never been, but it’s close by. And I want answers. This place will work.
I give her directions and she meets me there three minutes later. I’m first to enter, and when she walks in, I’m not surprised that male heads turn. Now that I’m looking at her, she’s got an exotic quality. She’s slender, petite. But her presence seems much bigger than her stature. Her almond-shaped eyes are striking, especially since they’re an unusual shade of gray. In fact, everything about her comes off as severe, yet there’s something under that facade I can’t put my finger on. It’s a vulnerability. She’s not as confident as she wants everyone to believe. Somewhere along the way she’s suffered. I’ve experienced enough of the bad to know the hallmarks. Bethany has secrets—deep, dark ones. I’d bet everything on that.
Now I’m even more intrigued.
I wave her over, and she sits. A college-age waitress in a logo’d T-shirt appears. We both order black coffee and skip the carbs.
“You’ve got my attention,” I say as soon as the girl is gone. “What do we need to discuss?”
“Barclay.”
Not Father or Dad or any other term to express one’s paternal unit.
I frown. “I’m listening.”
“The rest of your siblings may have poisoned you against him, but I’m here to give you a different side of the story…and ask for your help.”
Right to the point, and without any acknowledgement that we’re, in fact, siblings, too. The old me would probably have accepted that approach without complaint. Heck, in some ways I’m still okay with it. But something niggles at me. If I’m supposed to be paying attention to my heart or whatever, I’m not going to let her bark questions at me and leave without trying to see if there could be any sibling bond between us. I also find myself wanting to know what the heck that chink in her armor of confidence is about.
“I have some questions first. You say you grew up with Barclay?”
She sighs. “Do you need me to prove that I am who I say I am?”
Actually, that hadn’t occurred to me. She’s got too many of the Reed characteristics not to be authentic—Maxon’s stubborn chin, Griff’s dissecting gaze, and Harlow’s sharply feminine features, the green tinge to her unusual eyes we all have.
“No. I want to understand your perspective. You’re right that I’ve heard nothing good about the man, and my one interaction with him didn’t leave a positive impression.”
She waves my words away. “He suspected you were already poisoned against him.”
“Yet he still tried to persuade me to invest with him.”
“Everyone should want to make money, regardless of the people you’re making it with.”
A very Barclay answer. On the other hand, I can’t logically disagree. Whether I’ve earned money with people I like or hate, it spends the same. “Point taken. Tell me about growing up with Barclay.”
“That’s not important.”
“Because you want me to invest money, too?”
“I wouldn’t be opposed.”
“What about all the people he’s cheated out of their savings? It’s three billion dollars. He’s likely going to prison.”
Bethany wrings her hands for a moment before she seemingly catches herself and stills. For whatever reason, she’s nervous.
“Allegedly cheated. It’s a giant misunderstanding. Which is actually why I need your help. You see, he invested the money for those people, like he promised. He can produce it all and clear up this mess quite easily. And he will.” She shifts, crossing her legs and clasping her hands. “But Lund is a thorn in his side.”
I rear back. “Douglas Lund?”
“The same one trying to buy Stratus, yes.”
“That’s an unconfirmed rumor.” I frown.
After the waitress sets down our coffee with a quick murmur, Bethany leans across the table. “Cut the BS. We both know it’s true. Lund wants his hands on Stratus. Have you figured out why yet?”
I’ve been trying to understand that for weeks, but so far…nothing. I’m loath to admit that. It would be giving Bethany the upper hand. The woman might be my half sister, but she’s all Reed, which means she’s part shark. If she thinks there’s blood in the water, she’ll treat me like chum and come at me, teeth bared.
“I have some guesses,” I bluff.
“Let’s say I believe you.” But clearly she doesn’t. “The truth is, Lund’s number one goal is to bring Barclay down.”
“Because?”
“Barclay has a wandering dick. The fact that we’re both sitting here is a testament to that fact.” She sighs. “Earlier this year, his latest perky, young assistant gave birth to a baby boy. When I realized he’d zeroed in on her, I told him to leave the girl alone or get a vasectomy. At least wear a condom. But obviously none of that happened. So Amanda gave birth. Did I mention that Lund is her last name and Douglas is her father? He’s absolutely pissed that Barclay knocked up his baby girl, so he’s on a personal vendetta to tear our father down. Right now, Lund can’t do any further damage—beyond framing Barclay, of course—so he’s going after one of the man’s children.”
What? I peer at her. Blink. That’s so twisted it barely makes sense. “Lund framed him?”
“Like I said, the whole mess is a misunderstanding. Lund contorted all the evidence to make Barclay look guilty.”
Is that possible? “Even if that’s true, why come after me? It accomplishes nothing. My biological father barely knows I exist.”
Besides, why would Lund have offered me an amount of money for Stratus that’s more than fair if he’s merely screwing Barclay through me?
“I don’t think that matters to Douglas Lund. Barclay may not acknowledge the slight, but there’s no way he won’t take notice. They both know it. As soon as he can prove Lund is full of hot air, he’ll be out of jail and the truth will be revealed.”
“Why tell me all this?”
“I’m trying to be a decent human being and warn you.”
“So you’re doing this for me?” I say skeptically.
“And for Barclay,” she admits. “You’re crucial to not letting Lund win. You can’t sell Stratus to him.”
“Exactly.”
I sit back and cross my arms over my chest. “That’s not a compelling reason for me to turn down a billion dollars.”
When I toss out that figure, I see her repress a wince. “Think of your family.”
“Maxon, Griff, and Harlow are my family.” I take a sip of brew. “Tell me why you think I should save a man who screws his assistants and—”
“Are you really in any position to cast stones, given the fact you’re screwing Nia? Isn’t that her name?”
I almost come across the table. “Why the fuck are you poking in my personal life?”
“I’m merely doing my homework, and as far as I can see, Mr. Cook, the apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree.”
I barely bite back an ugly curse. “Nia is more than a warm body to me. And I certainly haven’t gone out of my way to impregnate her.”
Except I remember the night at the burlesque club. I didn’t do anything to not impregnate her…
“Aww, are you in love?” She snorts. “Are you really naive enough to choose pussy over the man who gave you life?”
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t manipulate me. If Barclay were in my shoes, he would sell, too. In fact, he’d have zero respect for me if I forfeited a fortune for anyone, much less someone I’d met once.”
Bethany presses her lips together. “So you don’t care if Lund is only using you to get to Barclay?”
“Not really. I still walk away with a billion dollars.”
Her face softens. “You think our father doesn’t care about you. He does. Admittedly, he’s not a warm man. But are any of the Reeds?”
“Did he send you here to make this ridiculous pitch? To tell me not to take a profitable deal simply so he can save face?”
“No, so we can prevent you from having to watch Lund dismantle your business. That’s exactly what he’ll do, simply for spite. He’ll happily tear it apart in front of your face to see you squirm. There won’t be a damn thing you can do to stop him.”
The possibility that he’ll break Stratus apart occurred to me. In the past, I shoved the notion aside and refused to let it bother me. Now…I can’t deny a twinge of something like denial and regret. Could I watch that asshole disassemble everything I’ve spent years building? I would hate every minute. I also can’t stand that he’s trying to take Nia from me, too. Unless I can convince her to quit before I sign the papers, she’ll be out of my professional reach for two years. If she won’t marry me and won’t follow me to another endeavor, I may lose her altogether.
Too many possibilities scroll through my head. And this woman across the table might be my sister biologically, but she’s not my friend. I don’t think for one moment her ploy has anything to do with protecting me and my interests.
I need to do some digging, find some answers.
“I’ll think about it. I have a month to make up my mind. How can I contact you?”
“Why would you? I don’t have anything else to add.”
“I might have questions.”
“I’ve given you all the information I know.”
With a shrug, I study her, trying to figure her out. She’s got a more than passable poker face. Only her odd gestures give away her nerves. “Don’t you want to know what I decide?”
She taps a finger on the table, then finally reaches into her purse and pulls out a business card and a pen. Quickly, she scribbles something on the back. “Here’s my cell number. Call me once you’ve made your decision.”
Then she tosses ten bucks on the table, rises, and leaves before I can say another word. I’m left staring after her, wondering what the hell kind of rabbit hole I just went down and what will happen next.