The CEO's Seduction (A Hamilton Family Series)

by Diane Alberts

  She held her head up high and marched through the garden, to the veranda, and into the house. The silence she left behind seemed to be louder than words.

  Once again, she came to his rescue—even when pissed off at him.

  Even when he’d hurt her.

  Shit.

  He hadn’t even realized he took a step after her until Christopher’s hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Let her go.”

  “Dude.” Brett looked down at the hand gripping him. “I might be your best friend, but you need to let go of me. Now.”

  Chris dropped his hand and squared his jaw. “Don’t be such an ass.”

  “Me?” Brett let out a sardonic laugh. “You’re the one being a dick. We were just talking. It’s not like you caught us fucking in the garden.”

  “She was looking up at you like…like…”

  Brett took a breath to calm his temper. “Like she was listening to me?”

  “No. It was more than that.” Christopher sighed. Brett didn’t say anything, because Chris was right. It had absolutely been more. “Anyway, let’s go. The rest of the boys are waiting for us in the library with drinks.”

  “Sounds good.”

  They walked together in silence. The second they reached it, the library door opened, and Cole peeked out at them. His eyes scanned Brett. Cole opened the door wider, frowning. “Wyatt’s pouring the whiskey and setting up the cards for poker. Hope you brought cash.”

  Chris raised a brow. “Illegal gambling with a cop in the room?”

  “Tonight, he’s just my brother,” Cole retorted.

  “I need a damn drink,” Chris muttered, pushing past his brother. “Or ten.”

  Brett tried to follow Chris inside, but Cole stepped in his path. “We all saw you out there with her, and none of us liked it. You weren’t thinking of breaking your blood vow, were you?”

  Stiffening, Brett stared at his friend.

  Again with this bullshit.

  If one more person reminded him he wasn’t good enough for Anna, he’d punch them in the fucking face…wedding pictures be damned. He smiled the fake smile that Anna hated so much, reeling in his anger. Barely. “Wouldn’t dream of it, man.”

  As he headed toward his friends, he kept the fake-ass smile firmly in place. Was it his imagination, or did it seem a little bit harder to hold on to now?

  Especially with the people who were supposed to know better.

  Chapter Four

  A few hours, and a lot of drinking, later…Brett stumbled into his appointed bedroom, not quite steady on his feet anymore. He blinked at the shadowed room. Wyatt had told him third door down the hallway on the left, but this didn’t look like a guest room. It had pink curtains. Had they run out of spare rooms and used the family bedrooms for guests? That made sense. He leaned against the door, blinking at the big bed on the other side of the room.

  Or were there two beds?

  Christ, he should’ve quit after the first bottle of whiskey. Granted, he hadn’t been drinking alone. But still. He was fairly certain there shouldn’t be two beds in one room.

  Unless…

  Nope.

  There wasn’t a single reason for there to be two big beds in one smallish room.

  He ripped his tie off and clumsily undressed. Though he normally slept in pajama bottoms, he headed toward the bed wearing nothing but boxers, because there was no way in hell he was digging in his suitcase for his shit right now. Crawling into the bed, he grunted, rolled over onto his side, and promptly fell asleep.

  The next thing he was fully conscious of was waking up, a warm body pressed to his. A warm, naked body. He ran his hands down the curves of the woman next to him, still lost in the fog of sleep. When had he brought someone back to his place?

  Had he gone out drinking last night?

  When his hand roamed over the woman’s bare breast, she moaned and arched her back. Desire clenched his gut, and he rubbed against her bare ass. Her breast fit inside his hand perfectly, and he couldn’t remember ever feeling something so damn right before. Nuzzling her neck, he slid his hand down her side, inching over her flat stomach, eager to explore the rest of her body.

  He slid his fingers in between thin thighs. She was hot and wet. Groaning, he arched against her ass again. Hot damn, she had a nice ass.

  And she smelled good.

  Like plumeria.

  The only reason he knew that particular fragrance was because he’d bought it for Anna at Bath & Body Works every Christmas for the past ten years of his life, and he loved the way it smelled on her…

  Anna.

  Plumeria.

  Naked woman.

  Wedding.

  And just like that, he remembered exactly where he was with painful clarity. He was at the Hamiltons’ house. Drunk. In a woman’s room. With his hand between the legs of someone who smelled like Anna and felt better than heaven. He yanked his hand free and scooted away, squinting through the darkness that wasn’t so dark anymore, his heart pounding against his ribs harder than a jackhammer.

  Pictures of the Hamilton family surrounded him.

  And there, by the light, a picture of him and Anna at his graduation.

  They had their arms around each other, and her eyes were sparkling with happiness. He remembered that day very well. She’d told him she couldn’t be more proud of him. She was the only one to say so.

  She’d been sixteen.

  With a sense of impending dread, he turned his head to the woman still asleep in bed. Her blonde curls were achingly familiar. There was no doubt whose body he’d been caressing. And he’d held her breasts. Slipped his fingers inside her…

  Son of a bitch, how was he supposed to forget how she fit in his hand to perfection or how soft her skin was against his? And how the hell was she not moving?

  Touching her had shaken him off his goddamn core, and she was still asleep?

  He wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or not.

  Moaning again, she rolled over, rubbing her eyes and blinking at him. Her eyes were still soft with sleep, and a smile curved her lips upward. Even half asleep, she smiled at him. His heart thudded forcefully against his chest when she reached a hand out to his shoulder, touching his bare skin. “Am I dreaming again?”

  Again?

  Did she dream about him a lot?

  Shit fuck damn.

  He swallowed hard. He almost forgot he wasn’t supposed to be here because of her fingers on his skin. Now he’d never forget how she felt, all naked and curled up in his arms. “I’m afraid not. I…I think I’m in the wrong room.”

  The sleep faded away from her eyes, and she sat upright, eyes wide with horror. Clutching the sheet to her chest, she looked at him in horror. “Oh my God. What are you doing in my bed? I’m naked, Brett.”

  He rolled out of the bed and held his hands out. “I know. I, uh, kind of noticed.”

  “Oh. My. God.” Her cheeks passed pink, passed red, and went straight to that color he could never remember the name of. Fuchsia? Magenta? Did it even matter? God, he needed some fucking Advil. “You’re not wearing any pants. What did we do? Did we…are we…?”

  “No. Christ. Nothing happened.” He picked up his pants, his hands trembling. Except something kind of had. “Jesus, Anna, don’t you think you’d wake up if I fucked you?”

  Her cheeks flushed redder. “I’d hope so.”

  So did he. Backing up a step, he avoided her eyes. “This was an accident. I’m sorry. So damn sorry.”

  For more reasons than one.

  She shook her head. “Don’t worry. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Right. No big deal.”

  That might be the biggest lie he ever told, because it was a big fucking deal. Now he knew how she felt in his arms—and he wanted more. A hell of a lot more. Shit.

  Her eyes widened and she gasped, pressing a hand to the sheet that covered her breasts. Her focus wasn’t on his face, though. It was decidedly southward…

  Fuuuuccckkkkkk.

/>   He glanced down, and sure enough, he was sporting an erection bigger than Texas, and there was no missing that fact thanks to his form-fitting boxer briefs.

  “Shit.” Clearing his throat, he scanned the room for his shirt and tie. Her robe sat on a chair, so he crossed the room and picked it up. It was soft and smooth, and it smelled like her. His already-hard erection grew even harder. “Fuck.”

  She choked on a laugh, or a groan, or maybe both. “Brett. It’s okay. It happens.”

  “Just put this on.” He handed the pink robe to her and turned his back, as much to give her privacy as to allow himself a minute to get his cock under his control. “I don’t know what happened. Wyatt told me my room was the third door on the left.”

  She snorted. “You went in the third door on the right. That’s what happened. Did you try to keep up with Cole and Wyatt again?”

  “Yep.” His face heated up, hotter than the fires of hell. He’d never make that mistake again, though. It was bad enough he could still feel her flesh in his hand. Her ass pressed against his…aaaaaand he would stop that thought right there. It wouldn’t help him get rid of his raging hard-on. “Oops.”

  “Yeah. Oops.” She laughed, but it was strained. “At least it was my door you picked instead of the one next door. That’s my parents’ room. You would have been significantly more embarrassed to wake up in their bed, I think.”

  He winced. “You make a good point. If I had to climb into bed with a Hamilton, I’d definitely choose you.”

  “Obviously. I’m the only one who doesn’t snore.”

  “How would you know if you snore or not?” he asked, turning around cautiously. She wore the robe he’d given her, and it was secured tightly with the sash at the waist.

  She raised a delicate brow. “Believe it or not, you’re not the first man in my bed.”

  Well, shit.

  Now he wanted to beat up some dude who dared to touch her. And even worse…he was…jealous. He couldn’t be jealous. Shouldn’t be jealous.

  “Yeah. Of course not. I mean, look at you.”

  Her eyes widened. “Was that a compliment?”

  “You know it was.” He cleared his throat. “If I can find my shirt, I’ll go to my own room.”

  “Oh. Right. I’ll help you look.”

  She searched the room with him but the thing was, he stopped looking for his shirt and just watched her. That robe barely covered a damn thing. When she bent down and checked under the bed…he tried to stop himself from looking, but hell, he was a man. His gaze skimmed over her curves, like his hands itched to do, even though he knew he shouldn’t look.

  And Jesus, the sweet curve of her ass when she bent over…

  His feet moved him forward, and he didn’t even realize it until he stood directly behind her. Even his body was betraying him. He was reaching for her when she straightened, his shirt in her hand and spun around with a smile on her face.

  “I found your—oof.” When she found him directly behind her, she stumbled backward with wide eyes. “Shirt.”

  He caught her around the waist before she hit the floor. Yanking her close, he held her in his arms, unable to let go. Though he should. He really fucking should. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s f-fine.” She held his shirt to her heart. He’d never been as damn jealous of a piece of clothing before as he was now. “Here.”

  He bit back a groan as he took the shirt from her because their fingers brushed, and it was too damn much after feeling her ass pressed against him. The smile froze on her face, and her gaze collided with his. And, oh hell, he saw desire.

  She tightened her grasp on his shirt. “Brett?”

  “Thanks for finding this.” He stepped back, forcing a smile. “I’ll go to my room now.”

  “You’re faking it again,” she accused.

  “Faking what?” he asked.

  “Your smile.”

  He laughed and waved over his shoulder as he headed for the door. “Good night.”

  “Night.” He was almost free when she added, “Why do you keep acting like you’re empty inside and faking a smile, when we both know I can see through it?”

  He stopped with his hand on the doorknob. It would be easy to walk away and not answer, but something inside him wanted to be honest with her. To let her see the real him in a way no one else could. “Because it’s me. It’s who I am. I’m empty inside. Always have been.”

  She came up behind him and laid her hand on his arm. “I don’t believe that.”

  “You should,” he said, staring at the closed door, knowing he should open it, but not doing so. “I feel nothing. I don’t think I’m even capable of it.”

  If he looked at her, he might do something he would regret. If he looked at her, he might not be able to deny himself the one thing that might make him happy—her.

  And then he went and looked at her anyway.

  Like a damn idiot.

  She watched him with vulnerable eyes, wide open for him to see, hiding nothing, while he hid everything from her. “You’re wrong.”

  She slipped under his arm, in front of him, closing herself in between his body and the door. He took a steadying breath, his hand gripping the knob even tighter.

  He wouldn’t touch her. He wouldn’t ruin her faith in him, and he wouldn’t let himself hurt her, as he inevitably would if he gave in to his base desires. She was close, too close, and his aching cock pressed against her soft belly. “You can’t. We can’t.”

  “Why not?” She cupped his face with her hands, looking deep into his eyes. Straight to his heart. And Jesus, he wanted to take her up on the unspoken offer that shone in her eyes. “Why won’t you touch me? You want to, and so do I.”

  “I’ll hurt you.”

  “Then hurt me,” she whispered, her voice broken.

  He shook his head. “Trust me. If you pursue this…I will. I’ll break your heart.” He grabbed her hands, gave them a gentle squeeze, and removed them from his face. “So listen to your brothers, and stay away from me. I’m no good for you.”

  He opened the door, gave her one last warning look, and left like he should have done as soon as he realized where he was.

  As soon as he saw her.

  Chapter Five

  Anna yawned and pushed the brew button on the Keurig, waiting impatiently for it to finish. Last night after the surprise visit from Brett, sleep hadn’t been her friend, so she was rolling on the few hours she’d gotten before he woke her up. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get the haunted look on his face when he left out of her mind. She’d known he wasn’t happy…but she hadn’t realized he was unhappy.

  There had to be a way to show him he wasn’t empty like he thought he was. A way to get him out from behind that safe, circular wall he lived in. His childhood may have told him time and time again he wasn’t worthy of love—but she had to find a way around that. Had to show him there was so much more to life besides work and loneliness. Somehow, someway, she would find a way to show him what he missed out on in life by closing himself off like that. She only needed to figure out how.

  Brett walked into the dining room, his eyes immediately finding hers. He flushed and looked away, heading in the opposite direction. His avoidance stung, but she faced the wall so he wouldn’t see. She sipped her black coffee, inhaling the vanilla biscotti scent. He wouldn’t know how much it hurt her to know he would never care about her the same way she cared about him, but by the end of this wedding…

  He’d know she cared about him enough to not care about that.

  Christopher leaned against the table, facing the crowded room instead of the wall, and gave her an all-too-serious look. Way too serious for eight in the morning. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She let out a soft breath. “Why?”

  “You’re pouting.” He crossed his arms. “Don’t try to say otherwise. I’m a cop, and your big brother. You can’t fool me. I can spot my unhappy sister from a mile away.”

&n
bsp; “I didn’t sleep well. That’s all. Once this coffee kicks in, we’ll be good to go.” And if she was pouting, that was easy enough to fix. Brett wasn’t the only one who could fake a smile. She flashed her brother a big smile. “So… Four more days until the big wedding. Are you ready?”

  Christopher sought out his bride, a soft smile on his face. Oh, how love had transformed her once-bitter brother. She wouldn’t have believed it to be possible if she hadn’t seen it all with her own eyes. “Hell yeah. I knew she was the one the second I met her.”

  “Such a romantic thing to say,” Anna said, her heart giving a little twist at his words. That’s what she wanted. “I never thought you’d be a romantic.”

  “Love can change a man.” Chris turned back to her, his gaze locked on her. “I want to introduce you to a guy I know from my precinct.”

  She sighed and set her coffee down. “Not interested.”

  “I figured. You’re too busy looking at something else you’ll never have.” He frowned at his best friend. “Knock it off. You need someone more…worthy.”

  Anna stiffened, anger sweeping through her. How dare he put down Brett like that? “It’s your wedding, so I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

  “I just—” He shrugged. “He’s not for you.”

  “Oh, really?” She put her hands on her hips. “So if I told you Nina isn’t good for you, and you can’t continue loving her—you’d stop? Just like that?” She snapped her fingers in his face. “You’d be done with her?”

  “There’s a difference. She loves me back,” he said gently, grabbing her shoulders. “He won’t love you back. You can spend your whole life loving him, wasting your time on him, but he won’t feel the same. I don’t think he can.”

  She swallowed hard. “You should be ashamed of yourself. How dare you insinuate he can’t love, or be loved? How could you have no faith in the very thing that changed you, and made you a ‘better’ man?”

  “I have faith in true love,” Christopher snapped. “But you can’t save a man who doesn’t want your love. If you could, it would have happened before now. Let it go. He’ll only hurt you.”