As I peel away from the club in my Chevelle, Devour the Day blasting from the speakers, the heat of Zoe’s sharp stare from the passenger’s seat licks at my balls. Christ, she’s as sexy as they come. The tiny pair of shorts she threw on before she got into the car hardly cover more skin than the thong she’d been wearing, gifting me with a glorious preview of her waxed pussy before she slid inside. Seeing her tight little body in that white jeweled bra, tits just the right size and soft shape to confirm they’re real, smooth bellybutton adorned with blue jewels…makes it hard as hell not to pull over and fuck her against a dumpster.

Involving her in the meeting with Uncle Marty was admittedly reckless, possibly even a little stupid. It could’ve backfired in a number of ways. But I was unprepared by how damn gorgeous she’d become since high school—how voluptuous—and the reaction to her sexier-than-sin body was extreme. There isn’t a straight man alive who wouldn’t pop a stiffy with the sight of her in that costume. The idea of leaving her alone to fight off that slimy bastard wanting a dance sent a possessive twitch through my entire body.

The only memories I’ve retained of the shy girl involve geometry class my senior year. I didn’t know anything about her, but it’s safe to say she came from a shitty home life if she went to South Valley High. She was quiet, always received praise from our teacher for knowing the answers when called on. Since then her face slimmed down, the freckles scattered around her nose mysteriously disappeared, her lips have plumped out, and she fixed her slightly crooked teeth. But there was no mistaking those high cheekbones, and china doll face. No way I could forget those bright brown eyes the color of my favorite single malt whiskey, as big as a doe’s caught in a hunter’s crosshair. They were constantly on me whenever I happened to glance to where she hid in the back of the classroom.

She ditched dirty blond hair and a shoulder-length cut for a luscious honey-blond shade grown down to her elbows. Some kind of tropical floral and vanilla scent clung to her locks, nearly bringing me to my knees when she was perched on my lap. Each time her sharp tailbone shifted against my legs, my cock twitched until it swelled to epic proportions. The urge to feel her cunt wrapped around it intensified with every second.

I despise the way she earns money—the obligation to help her out in whatever way possible was overwhelming. I suppose it has everything to do with the fact that my mom stripped for a living, and I’d seen firsthand the kind of hell someone like Zoe deals with in her profession. No way I was going to let her continue to be pawed by dirt bags.

And it’s not like Heather’s a valued employee. I’ve been ready to fire her lazy ass dozens of times after catching her getting hot and heavy with her boyfriend while customers waited at the counter.

I also used Zoe as a buffer. I knew the chances of completely flipping my shit on Uncle Marty were high. With every lie that spewed from the old man’s lips, I wanted to throttle him. He could’ve found a way all this time to get in touch with me. For all I knew, he was dead.

After a few blocks, I nearly jump from my seat when she turns the radio volume down. If it’d been one of the guys, I would’ve throttled them. “I’m sorry about your brother.” Her voice is every bit as soft and musical as I remember, similar to the gentle strum of an acoustic guitar. “You have no idea where he could’ve gone?”

“It could be nothing. Ben and I aren’t exactly close.” As I look over at her, I run my tongue along the top of my mouth, wanting to claim her pillowed lips and strip her naked. This girl…she stokes the most primitive urges of desire. “How long have you worked at the club?”

“Three years too many.” Her lips press into a tight line. Either she’s embarrassed, or she doesn’t want to delve into the details. Then they lift with a sweet smile. “How long have you had this repair shop?”

“Opened it a few months after graduation. Didn’t figure I was cut out for secondary school.”

I bite back a growl, remembering how Terrance mistakenly assumed I was spending my uncle’s money, and sent a threatening letter from a shady attorney. Like everyone else in the neighborhood, he forgot my old man was also wealthy at one time.

Setting a joint between my lips, I light it and inhale a lungful before offering it to Zoe. “Want a hit?”

She waves her thin fingers between us. “Shit…I really shouldn’t. I had to quit, and if I start up again…” There’s no trace of the shy girl who once stared at me from a distance when she lets out a dramatic sigh that draws my balls tight. “Ah, what the hell.”

Just as she reaches for it, I pull the joint away from her. “Why did you have to quit? You dealing with some kind of health shit?”

Eyes meeting mine, her lips part slightly. “Just trying to cut back on expenses. I take care of my little sister, and she has a medical condition.” Her cheeks flush a sexy, dark shade of red. “Money can be tight at times.”

“How old’s this sister?”

“Sixteen going on twenty. I don’t know if all teenage girls are as difficult as Charlize, or if she’s just testing me to see if I’ll abandon her like everyone else. Love her to death, but she’s a royal pain in my ass.”

“I know the feeling,” I mutter under my breath, flicking the joint out my window. The reminder of how badly I failed Bender blazes through my chest. As soon as he returns, I’m going to strangle his irresponsible ass for whatever shit he got himself into. I glance back at Zoe, suddenly wanting to know every last detail about her life. “What about your parents?”

“My dad’s an insolent drunk who wanders around the city, and my mom bounces from man to man, depending on who can score the best dope. They piss away what little money they have on getting high and gambling. My dad swindled our house several years back from a bookie that tried to short him on a deal, so at least I don’t have to worry about a mortgage. If either of them ever stops by, it’s because they’re looking for money, or a place to crash for the night. They don’t bother asking about Charlize if she’s not around.”

Dark spots dance before my eyes as I look back to the road.

Worthless pieces of shit.

The notion that my uncle could be directly responsible for breaking up families like hers with the surge of street drugs isn’t lost on me. Shame roils in my stomach for being one of his biggest supporters, for choosing my loyalties to him over Rook all those years ago. Even if my uncle had nothing to do with the disappearance of those college girls, his empire was built by less than honorable means. Just like mine.

Zoe’s fingertips, cool from the air conditioning, rest on my forearm. Pleasure zings down my spine. I haven’t slept with a woman in months, mostly because I’m over having to deal with the crap that follows the morning after. Getting phone numbers, wondering when we can hook up again, asking if we’re official…I’m over it. Based on her high-maintenance appearance, Zoe has the potential to be the biggest of drama queens. At the same time, she’s been straight with me, and didn’t take any shit. She even hesitated when I offered to pay her a nurse’s salary to answer the damn phones.

A bigger part of me simply wants to protect her from her crappy life in any way possible. Can’t say for sure if it’s nostalgia wanting to preserve the innocent girl from geometry class, guilt because my uncle may’ve had a hand in her shitty upbringing, or that we’re alike in how we see our younger siblings. Guess it doesn’t really matter what attracts me to her most. The fact is, I’m drawn to her with a force too strong to keep under control.

“Ryker?”

I turn to her, the muscles in my jaw jumping. “Does your sister need you tonight?”

Big eyes shining bright, she responds with a minuscule shake of her head. “I told you I’m not sleeping with you.”

“Not what I asked.”

The graceful slope of her throat dips with a hard swallow. “She’s spending the night at a friend’s.”

Pushing on the accelerator, I grip the custom steering wheel until it cracks. Before this night’s over, she’ll be cracking too, begging me to fuck her.

* * *

My uncle’s 16th Century French chateau sits on the furthest edge of the South Side, nestled among a small winery and double tennis courts, the entire property protected by a tall stone wall and massive scrolled gates. It was originally built by the founder of a nationwide department store, designed to entertain the rich. It’s the last standing structure straddling the south end between Minneapolis and St. Paul from back in the 1800s, before the neighborhood went to shit.

Five stately suites with attached bathrooms and walk-in closets, a library bigger than Stone’s entire apartment complex, kitchen with servant’s quarters and a dumbwaiter, several massive rooms that sit empty…many have easily become lost wandering the hallways. The olympic-sized pool was added on when I was little, along with the guest house. Considering the circular shape of the estate’s largest room, hand painted murals on the ceiling, elegant chandeliers, I always imagined it to have once been a ballroom when I played in there as a kid. It’s as obnoxious as shit, so I haven’t bothered going in there for at least a decade. But it was perfect for tonight’s show.

My heart thrashes against my ribcage as I wait on a chair in the center of the otherwise empty room. Finally, Zoe emerges between the decorative pillars at the entrance. My balls seize with the heated look in her whiskey brown eyes as she saunters toward me to the beat of the tune. Her smooth, tanned legs appear to be a mile long in the high heels, and she moves with the grace of a beauty queen. With an infallible body like hers, lean and strong enough to destroy a pole, she must spend countless hours working out.

To my disappointment, the tiny shorts and sparkly bra remain in place, but I will myself to be patient. Good things come to those who wait. We’ll both be coming soon enough.

A light, airy flute plays from the hi-fi speaker system built into the walls. I hold my breath, recognizing the melody long before a tenor voice accompanied by a soft piano breaks into the lyrics. It’s a cover of Nirvana’s “Heart-Shaped Box” unlike anything I’ve heard. This girl’s not only sexy, but has unparalleled taste in music.

She dances in a seductive circle around me. Snagging the edge of my t-shirt, she nudges my arms up so she can slide it over my head. Her tits rise and fall with deep, heavy breaths as her gaze drinks in my bare chest. A lone chipped fingernail drags across my pecs before trailing down to my stomach.

She pauses. I hold my breath, willing her with a look to release my throbbing cock.

Then the tempo picks up. She drops to a squat, lips at the same level as the part of me that wants her the most. Holding my stare, she pries my legs apart with one violent jerk. Then she’s hooking her shorts down as she shimmies back up, tempting curves melding into my chest. With the return of the tiny swatch of cloth trapped between her sweet thighs, static fills my head, blurring the music.

She wiggles her sexy-as-fuck hips, continuing to execute a well-rehearsed routine that would make Beyoncé envious. I’ve slept with many beautiful women since high school, but none of them were as erotic as the woman creature in front of my ravenous eyes. None of them created the same slow need starting at the base of my balls, gripping my stomach like a fucking fist hellbent on destroying me from inside out.

Zoe Jackson has the power to reach into my darkest places, calling to my every last dormant need.

I clench my teeth when she slips a hand behind her back, releasing the sparkling bra and letting it fall over her heeled feet.

Two gloriously full breasts appear before my eyes, undersides heavy with the most tender, tanned flesh. Yet they’re still perky as fuck, and youthfully firm. Nipples a flushed shade of rosé, twinned into stiff peaks, beckon to my tongue as it slides along my teeth. Faint freckles dusting her imperfect areolas have my dick straining to be released from its tight quarters.

Sensing my self-control dissolving, I shove my hands under my thighs as she slips her toned legs on either side of me to straddle my lap, drowning me in her sweet floral scent and blond locks as soft as silk. Fuck me, it’s the most intoxicating experience of a lifetime.

Small, black print scrolls up her rib cage with words I intend to explore another time. Earlier I noticed a tiny black arrow on the side of her wrist. There’s nothing like a little tasteful ink on a beautiful woman.

But it’s those glorious tits at my disposal that are the final hell on my control. I growl through gritted teeth when the hard points push into my bare chest.

Big whiskey eyes volley between mine, as if searching for some kind of answer. Toned arms twine around my neck, and her entire body trembles. It would take a mere tilt of my head for our mouths to connect. It’d take even less of an effort to slip that tiny thong aside and destroy her sweet pussy until she’s inside out. The way she’s grinding against my hard cock, nipples like razors, I doubt she’d stop me. Our bodies have created a connection too powerful to break.

“You’re so damn gorgeous,” she whispers as a lock of her hair falls between us. I scowl as my fingertips itch to put it back. “And intense as fuck. You scare me a little, Ryker. Actually…a lot.”

“Just wait until you give me permission to touch you.”

Her breath hitches. She leans back, fingers gliding through my beard, holding my jaw. The tip of her tongue appears to wet her lips just before she angles her head closer, and bends in. I’m frozen to the chair, mesmerized by the fullness of her mouth. If I could stop time, somehow draw out this moment, I’d want it etched into my memory for life. The feel of her peaked tits on my skin, the steady intake of her short breaths, the softness of her fingertips—I want it to play out in slow motion before I properly devour this blonde bombshell.

“Some things never fuckin’ change!” a deep voice shouts, followed by a familiar chuckle.

Zoe drops her head against my shoulder, giving me a clear view of my old friend as he saunters into the room, as comfortable in my uncle’s place as before. He even knows exactly what button kills the tunes. It’s as if five years haven’t passed when he advances through the suddenly silent room.

But fuck, they clearly have.

Designer jeans, black button-down, wavy black hair grown out on both sides…Liam Rooker’s the total opposite of the punk who worried where his next meal was coming from. Running off with his social worker appears to have done him good. And he’s more muscular than he had been back in high school. I’m thankful he’s no longer working out simply because he has to defend himself from his old man’s angry fists. I imagine Stone will want to go a round with him if he hasn’t already, wanting to prove who's the bigger man.

The old Rook would’ve made a lewd comment about the hot blonde in my lap. He would’ve even asked if he could have a turn. The new and yet-to-be-determined improved Rook averts his eyes, running a hand with a wedding band over the top of his head. “Suppose you can get your friend to put something on?”

Zoe straightens, arms crossed over her tits when she throws a broad smile in Rook’s direction. “No problem, sugar. You can look, just don’t touch.”

What’s with the sugar? Does she honestly not remember Rook from high school? He really hasn’t changed that much in overall appearances. I wonder if she’s putting on an act like she has with me for most of the night. It could be an old habit to try to work everyone in the room. If that’s the case, I intend to break it.

Throwing me a wink, she slips off my lap, leaving my angry cock to stab at my jeans. While she’s getting dressed, I stand to face one of my oldest friends with a whoosh of blood rushing through my ears. “Didn’t think you’d come.”

With a harsh laugh, his sharp brown eyes remain cold. “Wasn’t so sure I would either. I left my eight-month-pregnant wife to travel over a thousand miles.”

A tentative smile pulls at my lips. Married and expecting a baby? I shove my hands into my jean pockets, knowing I should say something profound, maybe even congratulate him. But half a decade of hard feelings wedged a wall of awkwardness between us. “Glad you did.”

He flinches like he was punched. “Didn’t come for you. Came for Bender. If he’s in trouble, I wanna help.” Narrowing his eyes on me, his focus intensifies. It reminds me of the expression he had whenever Trask had a court appearance. “Fill me in on everything that happened.”

I throw a tentative look Zoe’s way. She watches on with her shoulders back, chest out, and chin high. Her confidence is a serious turn-on, making me hard all over again. While I’d love more than anything to continue where we left off, it’ll be a long night of catching up with Rook.

“Call a cab.” I collect my shirt off the floor and throw it at her before digging for my wallet. “Put that on so the driver doesn’t get any ideas. Check in with me when you get home. I added my number to your phone. And for the love of fuck, buy something that won’t give my older customers a heart attack.” When she reaches for the crisp bills I offer, expression uncomfortably tight, I don’t let go. Instead I stare her down over the bridge of my nose. “Consider this a rain check for tonight.”

When I release the money, she stuffs it into her shorts pocket. With my shirt draped over her shoulders, she lifts her chin in Rook’s direction. “Maybe I’ll be seeing you around, too.”

A possessive twitch spreads over the palms of my hands. Once I have another opportunity to be alone with her, I plan to convince her to leave the days of working customers for money far behind. If I have my way, I’ll be taking care of every last one of her needs from this point forward.