Sinfully Theirs: Naughty Nookie Part I

by Akeroyd, Serena

  “What money?” Zane’s voice barks out from the doorway and even though I’d been expecting him, I was surprised at how quickly he’d reached this part of the house.

  Holding out a hand, I watch as he walks toward me, and I murmur, “Your father wants to give me fifty thousand dollars to leave you. Apparently he can stand your being gay, just not what you, Jake and, I have together.”

  An honest to God growl escapes Zane’s mouth. He pauses on the path to reach me and turns to his father. “You just can’t leave off this shit, can you?”

  “Of course not. As repulsive as your commitment to that man is, this is a thousand times worse. Can you do nothing that won’t bring shame on to this family’s good name?”

  “Good name?” Zane barks out. “What good name? The name you ruined when your father hushed up that drug scandal? Or how about the kiss-and-tell from that hooker in Savannah? And what about mother? And my so-called saintly sisters?

  “Lucille’s obviously inherited her addiction from you, because she can barely stop herself from rubbing her nose whenever she leaves the goddamn bathroom. Caroline is in the middle of a love affair with herself and she’s losing out, because if she drops another pound, she’ll have to be hospitalized. Faye’s husband is having an affair with his secretary, and she needs ten Scotches a day to get through the shame of it. And then mother, with as many lovers as you.” He grits out, “What good name?”

  “Every family has skeletons in their closet, Zane. But that’s where they remain. Hidden and secret. Not on the headlines for the entire, goddamn world to see.”

  “You know, I missed you. All of you. I couldn’t believe you’d disowned me. That I wasn’t welcome here anymore. But do you know what, Daddy? Absence doesn’t make the heart grow fonder. It opens your eyes. It lets you see things you never saw before.

  “If you want to reinstate me as your heir, then you can. But it’s your choice. I’m not changing any aspect of my life to suit this family. And if you dare come anywhere near Mona again, if you threaten her or try and bribe or hurt her, then you’ll have me to answer to. I might be a fairy as you phrase it, but I can still take care of my own.”

  With his eyes focused on his father, Zane holds out a hand. Standing, I walk toward him at a calm pace, not betraying my urge to get the hell out of this house by one flicker of reaction.

  Once our hands are connected, Zane turns on his heel and as we walk out of the room, over my shoulder, I call out, “Bye, Teddy. I hope we never have to lay eyes on each other. Ever. Again.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “She has a crush on you.”

  “Jealous?”

  My grin is wide as I shake my head. Knowing how important I am to Zane, I can’t be jealous. It would be a complete waste of time and energy. Watching the stewardess flirt with him had inspired nothing more than pity and… “No.” I pretend to consider what I’m feeling, raising my hand to reach over and brush his jaw with my fingers in a whisper of a caress, before saying, “Smug. Yeah, that’s the right word. I’m more smug than anything else.”

  How could I not feel that way?

  Dressed in her navy blue uniform, taut butt practically an inch from my face, her tits thrust into his direct line of sight, she’d been leaning over Zane so deeply that her flirting had seemed rather desperate.

  How she hadn’t poked out one of his eyes with one of the boobs she’d shoved in his face, I don’t know. She had enough metal pins on the lapel of her blouse to gouge out an eyeball and they were hovering right in front of him. If he’d been a magpie, he would have stolen all the glittering badges.

  What had been amusing was Zane’s disinterest. As she’d been chatting and displaying her cleavage, her charms, he’d been studying his computer. Humming and saying “yes” and “no” and “oh” in the wrong places.

  The glare directed my way had been the piece de resistance.

  So yeah, I’m feeling smug. And secure. And happy.

  We’re out of New Orleans, and we’re on our way to New York. Woohoo.

  His chuckle has me winking up at him.

  “How about if I told you I was jealous?”

  The smile drifts off my lips with bewilderment. “No way, why?”

  His question has a frown fluttering over my forehead, and he reaches over from his own seat to brush it away with his thumb.

  “Two rows behind, there’s a guy. He can’t stop looking at you.” He grabs my chin as I try and turn around. “No, don’t look. He’ll catch sight of it.”

  My lower lip pops out. “I want to see.”

  “Why? Fancy adding a third devoted slave to your harem?”

  I can’t help it. Laughter explodes out of me, so ripe and hearty that I know half of First Class is gawking at me.

  “As if. I can just take you and Jake. Or do I mean handle?”

  My rueful question has a grin creasing his jaw. “Then why are you curious?”

  There’d been a modicum of seriousness to his tone, but I wave it away. “Nosiness. I never get stared at.”

  “No.” He shakes his head. “You just don’t realize you get stared at.”

  “Ha. Since when do guys look at girls like me?” The instant the words pop out of my mouth, I grimace, especially at Zane’s pointed look.

  I now have no reason to feel in anyway inferior.

  I’ve got two guys that would make any Hollywood starlet drool with envy, and they’ve got the cream of the LA crop.

  These two dreamboats chose not-so-little old me.

  “Until you toppled out of your stool and I caught you, did you know I was staring at you?”

  “No.”

  “Well, then. You’re just not used to it.”

  “Jake isn’t there, is he? This isn’t some kind of surprise after that torture of a family visit?” My voice is hopeful and even though he tries to stop me from turning around, I tilt my head round the corner of my cubicle and spot a guy whose eyes keep looking my way. But it isn’t the one I want.

  He’s handsome, I guess.

  Affluent, if his seat position is anything to go by. A First Class ticket is definitely a luxury.

  But he’s no Jake.

  “No, honey. I wish he was, but he isn’t.”

  “I was hoping for a surprise.”

  He snorts. “Some surprise. Christ, even we didn’t know we’d be leaving my parents’ place today.” Zane looks at his watch and shakes his head. “Nearly midnight in Copenhagen.”

  “I’m glad you feel it, too.”

  “What? Like I’m missing an arm?”

  “Yeah.”

  “This has brought us all closer. Far closer than I think any of us expected.”

  “I guess it’s the nature of the beast. You can’t spend so much time with someone and not miss them when they leave you.”

  “No. That doesn’t cut it as an explanation. I left Jake plenty of times before. Too many times.” His jaw tightens with what I know is guilt. I reach over and present him with my open palm. He accepts and bridges his fingers with mine. “But it was manageable. Now, you’ve brought us closer together.”

  “I’m glad.”

  And I am. There’s no room for jealousy in a relationship like ours, because if there was, then there’s no chance of it surviving. I feel nothing but happiness to know Jake and Zane are finding each other again. In fact, it makes me feel all warm and cozy inside, sad sap that I am.

  He smiles at me. And I smile back. My throat thickens, until I feel like I’m choking on the love I feel for him and Jake.

  What did I do to be so lucky?

  “Why New York, Zane?” I ask, changing the subject before I burst into tears of happiness.

  “And not Maine?” I nod at the question and he sighs. “I’ve never been as big a fan of Bayling Cove as Jake. He loves it there, but after Caroline spread those rumors, I think that will change. It’ll have to. We were never really accepted up there. Tolerated and not insulted, but people aren’t stupid. They’ll figure out
what we’re up to, they’re bound to in a place as small as that. I have a feeling if we go back on a permanent basis, we won’t be welcomed with open arms.”

  “But that’s your home, Zane. You can’t just leave it, because of what a bunch of people think.”

  “No, I know. But you have to choose your battles. And I’ve learnt the hard way, Mona… home isn’t a place. It’s with the people who count the most.”

  “You’re getting sappy in your old age, Zane.”

  He grins at me. “Less of the old.”

  “But you don’t mind being called sappy?” His shrug combined with the twinkle in his eye makes me smile. “Now, who’s smug?”

  He doesn’t answer, just tightens his clasp on my fingers and returns to his work. Leaving me to read the book I’d bought at the airport.

  Upon landing at JFK, we charge through the crowds intent on getting home as quickly as possible. Grabbing our cases, we’re soon outside and hiring a cab to take us to the apartment.

  By the time we arrive, the pair of us aren’t speaking out of sheer tiredness. It has been a hell of a long day, and it’s hard enough putting one foot in front of the other, never mind chitchatting about nonsense.

  I do notice, even in the late night crowds, people staring at us. But it doesn’t really hit home, because more than anything, I’m starting to feel like a zombie. A part of my mind takes note of the gawks and mentally tells them to fuck off. Otherwise, I’m going through the motions. A dazed look on my face.

  It isn’t good to be back. Even though I’ve lived here for a long time, and even though it’s marvelous to be out of New Orleans, I’m not the Big Apple’s hugest fan.

  As dynamic as the city is, as electric and as exciting, it’s also wearying if you’re not looking for bright lights.

  And I’m not.

  The only great thing about being here is that it isn’t New Orleans, and we’re no longer in Zane’s family home.

  Whether this is a permanent living choice, I don’t know. As spacious as the apartment is, especially for Manhattan, it’s minute for the three of us, particularly after the house at Bayling Cove. Jake will no way settle for the penthouse but I can’t be bothered telling Zane that—we’ll hash it out when Jake comes home.

  Henry isn’t on the concierge desk, so we manage to narrowly escape a confrontation between Zane and him. That would have been some welcome home party. Lecherous Henry staring at me like I was a pig on the way to slaughter and he can’t wait to eat the bacon.

  I can’t help but recall the last time I saw him. It’s way too easy to remember that weird look he gets in his eyes, when I enter the building and he happens to be on the desk.

  “I hope you aren’t lonely, Ms. Barranquet,” he’d murmured once, his eyes focused on me like a sniper at a target. I think I’d have felt more comfortable between the sights of a rifle than in full view of Henry.

  The words were subtle, but they felt threatening all the same. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the day before this particular occasion, he’d asked me, “If Mr. Matthews is unavailable, you only have to contact the desk. You never know when you need a man around the house.” The smile in his eyes had been… I feel like a fool saying lustful but it had been just that. Hungry.

  And it had been topped off, when his clammy fingers had brushed mine, as he passed over a stack of letters.

  Then, there had been the time, when he’d been on the phone and I’d ran in, almost slipping on the floor in my haste to escape a rather nasty thunderstorm. Spotting him on the phone, I’d continued to run. The chances of falling flat on my face had seemed minimal in comparison to having to maintain a pleasant conversation with the creepy concierge.

  I’d lifted a hand in greeting and made it to the lift… too late. Henry had appeared out of nowhere, his hand coming up to grip my elbow. “Don’t want you to fall over now, do we, Ms. Barranquet?” His smile had been wide and sincere, but all the same, I disliked having it aimed my way.

  He’d actually climbed into the elevator with me, and in an uncomfortable silence, we’d travelled to the top floor. As the coffin-like box had sped us up to the penthouse suites, he’d taken the opportunity to crowd me. An inch separating the pair of us, every breath of mine had been loaded with his sickly-sweet cologne. I couldn’t complain, not when his eyes weren’t on me, but trained on the screen, watching the visual proof of our climb to the top of the building as the numbers flickered.

  As he’d helped me out of the elevator, his hand had slipped down and brushed my hip, something for which he’d been quick to apologize. He’d guided me down the hall and had waited at the door, almost as though he’d been silently requesting an invitation to share a cup of coffee in payment for his chivalry.

  That weird smile of his—all teeth and wide-eyed sincerity—had disappeared when I’d muttered a thank you and goodbye. His eyes had flared, so much so that I’d seen the whites surrounding his irises. Tension had bracketed his mouth, turning the flesh white. He’d leaned into me, making me jump with surprise, something that had urged him into stalking off.

  There was definitely something weird going on inside Henry’s mind. The first time I met him, he treated me like I was dog poop he’d just stepped in. All because I was wearing a cleaner’s uniform. Something had altered that. Maybe the knowledge that I was, in the world’s eyes, a slut? Yeah, that might have something to do with it.

  I’m hard-pressed not to snort at the thought, but I’m too relieved to see Arnold, the other concierge, on the front desk. A bust up between Zane and Henry is the last thing either of us needed, as travel-weary as we are. While we wait for the elevator to arrive, Zane requests that the paper service be restarted.

  They’re the only words to pass our lips. The instant we’re out of the elevator and through the front door, the pair of us drop our cases, stagger to the bedroom, and sink into bed.

  With sleep beckoning, we embrace it and each other as we toddle off to the Sandman’s residence of choice.

  I’m the first to awaken, which is unusual, especially without the scent of Jake’s freshly brewed coffee wafting up my nose. But Zane is so deeply asleep he’s snoring.

  Whether that will be the case after I roll out of bed is another matter.

  It still astonishes me that so many years after his last tour of duty he’s as battle ready as ever.

  Despite my care, the mattress rocks as I climb out, and Zane grunts, “Where you going?”

  With my back to him, I roll my eyes. “Going to put the coffee on.”

  Knowing he’s about to stretch, I spin around to watch the show. And hey, don’t judge me. Any woman in her right mind would want to see Zane Matthews’ jungle cat body as he rolls through the sheets.

  His scarred knee pops out from beneath the covers and in the early morning light, the peach hue is slightly darker than usual. As his bony feet flex and pull, his brow twitches a little and on instinct, I ask, “Knee?”

  That twitch and slight scowl makes me wonder if he’s often in pain and Jake and I just don’t know about it.

  “Yeah.” His gruffness tells me that he doesn’t want to talk about it.

  “Need a painkiller?” It isn’t often I ask him about his injuries, even though I know they bother him. Sometimes, he wakes up in a foul mood. Other times, he’s so silent it’s unnerving, and the only clues are the lines and wrinkles creasing his lower jaw. I’ve learned from Jake not to say anything unless Zane does.

  Okay, sometimes that works, but sometimes, I have to ask.

  “No, I can handle it.”

  “Aren’t we Mr. Tough Guy?”

  He squints up at me and growls at my mocking smile. But he doesn’t say anything, just covers his eyes with his forearm.

  “Sleep it off, grouch.”

  I turn to walk away, then squeal when he grabs my hand and pulls me on to the bed. With a jolt, my back slams into the mattress and before I get a chance to whack him, his face is at my throat, his forehead pressed there. His
leg, the sore one, comes up to pin me by the hips and his free hand grabs the arm he isn’t squashing.

  “Okay, okay, I surrender.” There’s little else I can do.

  “Go, wench, make coffee,” he mumbles as he sucks my ear lobe.

  That coffee is on his to-do list and not the slight bulge at his crotch tells me that his knee is more than just sore.

  Instantly feeling guilty, I murmur, “Promise you’ll tell me if it hurts? I don’t want you to just sink into silence. Tell me. Please?”

  Stuff like this, it’s important he doesn’t deal with it alone. Maybe he wants it that way. I’d hazard a guess that’s exactly how he likes it. But sometimes, we don’t always get what we want.

  He sighs, his lips ceasing their pull at my ear lobe and instead, he presses a gentle kiss to my cheek. “I’ll tell you, and yes, it is. I shouldn’t have run up the stairs yesterday. I have to take care and I didn’t.”

  Shit. It’s my fault. He was running to spare me from his father.

  “Less of that. You’re as transparent as Jake’s opaque, Mona. I didn’t have to run. I knew you’d handle him.”

  “You did?”

  He snorts. “Of course. My father lives in an antiquated world. He belongs in the nineteenth century as lord and master of all he sees. Or so he likes to think, and my sisters don’t exactly help to change that. They married according to his word, still live at the house because he says they should. The instant the pair of you met, I knew there would be fireworks. And he’d be the one with burns.”

  I can feel his lips tugging into a grin against my throat. His faith in me is astonishing.

  “Thank you, Zane. I appreciate your trust in me.”

  He shrugs. “It’s who you are. I knew he’d proposition you. He’s very predictable but as strong as you are, I didn’t want him to say anything to hurt you. He’s quite capable of using words to wound.”

  Humming under my breath in agreement, I say, “Yeah, I can see that. Did he really call you a fairy?”

  “Like I said, predictable.”

  He moves about on top of me, jostling me as he does. Pinned down, but now with his face directly above mine, he presses a kiss to my lips.