by C. M. Owens
Silently regarding me, he taps a finger on his chin like he’s thinking before he speaks again. I decide to go on while he’s silent.
“This is no longer a game between us. Trust me when I say my mother would blow a tiny gasket if she found out I slept with you. You need to know something very crucial about my family, and that’s the fact my mother will indeed become the center of your father’s universe. Stepping in the way of that by drawing attention to us would prove stupid for me.”
He continues to study me.
“I haven’t met your mother yet,” he finally says without concern. “But obviously she has skills if she got my father to put a ring on it and then he put you up here.” He gestures around my temporary dwelling.
I narrow my eyes on him. “I put myself up here. I’m paying Ian rent each month. Two grand. I know it’s not what it’s worth, but he refused to let me find another place on my budget, which was hard to do in Sterling Shore.”
His eyebrows go up. “You’ve met my father?”
That’s what he asks? Really?
“No. I’ve only spoken to him over the phone, because I had to move out here when Mom married him.”
Warm brown eyes travel down my face as his brow furrows. “Had to? How old are you?” The way he asks it means it’s more of a condescending question than one of concern for the fact he thinks I’m too young.
Rolling my eyes, I decide this conversation needs to hurry along. I, unfortunately, know how to end any ideas he might have.
Never tell anyone everything about you, Salem. It makes you a bore. And men love a good mystery in a woman.
My mother’s rules are always fun to break.
Besides, the sooner he’s appalled by me, the sooner he will stop tempting me. Maverick Sterling is like a presence that can’t be ignored. And when all his attention is focused on you because he wants you? Yeah. See how strong you can be.
“Okay, I’m going to cut to the chase. Your father has married a typical gold digger, and I give it five months—on the high end—before he realizes she’s not as perfect as he thinks she is. Then poof—we’re once again gone, and it’ll be like none of this ever happened.”
His grin spreads like I just said something he finds amusing.
“Figured as much about your mom. Wedding happened a little fast. But my father isn’t an idiot. There’d be an iron-clad pre-nup, and no matter how good she is, he’s just as good. Fair chance she’s not faking it.”
I’d normally laugh at a guy thinking my mother is actually catching a case of feelings, but this isn’t a time for laughter. “She’s not looking for money after the marriage. She has plenty of her own money, since she’s been doing this for a while, but she likes to live off men who are stupid enough to let her. She’ll live a life of luxury, sponging off him like a leech for as long as he lets her. She’ll have him wrapped around her finger until he finally starts getting tired of all the perfection. You’ll try talking sense into him, but he won’t listen, because Kelly is damn good at what she does.”
He still looks amused. What is wrong with this guy?
“Then she’ll get the marriage annulled,” I go on. “So that she doesn’t risk maxing out her legal marriage count. She’ll charm the hell out of him, you, and everyone you know. You’ll hate her as much as you’ll admire her.”
A smile stays fixed on his lips, but it seems to be growing.
“Why are you telling me this?” he asks.
“Because you’re still staring at me like this is all a game, and like you think I’m still on the menu. If you know just how shallow my mother is and what she’s really after, then it’s going to stop this chase.”
“You’re trying to turn me off because you don’t want me to turn you on. Is that what you’re saying?” He’s really not acting like they normally do. I’ve done this with countless other step-siblings—the conversation. Not the sex. The sex was a first and, as you know, a total accident.
Plenty of steps have hit on me, but after this story, they always look at me like I’m something that’s stuck to their shoe. Not something they still want a piece of.
On the rare occasion, we’re friendly with the new family, but it’s never like a real family. It’s just making the best of an otherwise awkward situation.
“I’m telling you the reality of the situation,” I bite out, frustrated.
The cocky guy just leans over, invading my space, getting so close I can feel his breath tease my lips. His eyes dart over mine, and he cocks his head.
“The thing is, Salem, honesty is one of my favorite qualities in someone. If you wanted me to walk away, you should have lied to me and said your mom is deeply in love with my dad because of the man he is, or some shit like that.”
I shudder a little, feeling his closeness in all the wrong ways. Totally backfiring on me.
His gaze drops to my lips, lingering there, and I dart to my feet, quickly walking over to the chair that is across from him, putting the coffee table between us like a short barrier. He just grins, staring down at the sofa where I just was, before those humor-filled eyes find mine again.
“Why’d you follow your mother out here?”
“Because I love her and adore her,” I say with a smirk.
His grin is so big that it transforms his face. I didn’t think it possible for him to be even sexier.
“Lie,” he states through his smile.
“I’m a pathological liar,” I lie.
He shakes his head as a deep chuckle rumbles from his chest. He holds a hand up in surrender. “Fine. Fine. You don’t want me to want you. I got it. But we will be seeing each other. It’s inevitable. So we should at least be friends. Tell me why you really followed your mom out here.”
He leans back, acting as though he genuinely wants to know.
“It’s a requirement that I follow her no matter which place she goes. At the end of each relationship, we return home to Georgia for a few months or less.”
“Requirement? Trust fund or something?” he asks, no judgment in his tone.
“Or something,” I say with a tight smile, not willing to give him that information. “Why do we need to be friends?”
I don’t think I can be friends with him, to be honest.
“Because I have rules. One of those rules is not to fuck friends. So if you’re my friend, then you’re safe,” he says, that smile of his never waning. “Otherwise, I’m just going to keep trying to get into your pants. Habit of mine.”
Trying not to act affected by the sentiment of those words, I take a deep breath.
“I don’t do friends.”
“Me neither. That’s the point,” he says, winking.
It takes me an embarrassingly long second to catch the joke. “Finally. A flaw,” I say on a sigh.
His eyebrows go up. “A flaw?”
“You make the same jokes an eleven-year-old boy would.”
To this, he laughs, getting more comfortable on the sofa as his eyes stay warmly fixed on me.
“You could have called me a player. A manwhore. Something along those lines. Girls usually like to point out that little flaw,” he says, still laughing lightly. “Maybe tell me I have a Peter Pan complex for not ever settling down or growing up.”
He stares at me expectantly, like he’s waiting for me to take the bait.
“You like sex. Totally get that. Unless there’s a wife, girlfriend, or fiancée I’m not aware of, I don’t see what the problem is. I mean, obviously you use condoms, so you take safety precautions. It’s your life.”
He nods, the humor slowly slipping from his face.
“Why don’t you do friends?” he asks, gesturing toward me.
“I meant that I don’t have friends, because I’m usually not in one spot for too long. Goodbyes are never much fun.”
I do have my brothers, and they’re all the friends I need.
He glances around, noting all the boxes in the house. “So that means you have no help unpacking these, I a
ssume.”
Sean won’t be here until tomorrow, and even then he won’t be much help unpacking. I’ll be lucky to keep him off his phone long enough to unpack his room.
“I always manage on my own. I just keep the basics.”
He stands suddenly, moving toward the kitchen again. The open floorplan gives a view of the three main rooms—living, dining, and kitchen. I watch as he goes to a box, opening it up.
“What’re you doing?” I ask as I stand, going to join him.
“Being your friend. Like I said; I don’t fuck friends. And if we just keep sitting there, not being friends, I’m going to end up trying to seduce you again,” he says with a shrug, as though it’s no big deal.
I guess he likes being honest too.
Bluntly honest.
Swallowing the knot in my throat, I resign myself to the fact that free labor and muscle like he has wouldn’t be such a bad thing. The house came fully furnished, which is fortunate. Even though things are a little upscale for my tastes.
“Got a special place you want this stuff?” he asks, not looking back at me as he starts unpacking some of my pots and pans.
“Just keep the cookware close to the stove or oven. Other than that, no particular plan.”
Skeptically, I go to pick up my own box, as he begins stocking a cabinet like this is any other day.
“Pizza would be good. I’m fucking starving,” he says, causing me to smile a little.
“I ordered one fifteen minutes ago—right before I caught you perving through my window—so you’re in luck.”
When he flashes a grin my way, I have to remind myself that he’s decidedly off-limits. I also have to ignore the stupid pang of disappointment that he’s no longer trying to seduce me.
Don’t you love it when you contradict yourself?
Maverick Sterling is going to be a terrible friend for me.
“So if I’m your friend, you magically lose all interest in me?” I ask him, aiming for casual conversation.
“Yep.” He continues unpacking a box, never glancing in my direction. “That little tactic has worked all my life.”
“You implement it often?”
“Every time I have to be around a girl I’m attracted to for extended periods of time, I become her friend. Attraction dies down pretty damn quickly, and soon, I look at her as one of the guys.”
Not sure why that makes me smile.
“Why?” I ask, only because I’m genuinely trying to understand him.
“Friends last longer than hook-ups. I guess it keeps me from fucking up with the wrong person that could get hurt. Especially if it’s someone I know I’ll have to be around a lot.”
Propping a hip against the counter, I study his profile. His shirt is still soaked from where I blasted him. I’ve been trying to ignore the way it clings to his upper body, showing off every line of definition there.
He looks my way, smiling when he catches me staring, and I clear my throat.
“You probably need to dry your shirt,” I say like I just noticed it’s wet.
He steps back, reaching an arm over his head, and tugs the shirt off right in my kitchen. My mouth tries to water. Then it dries. Then waters again. It can’t make up its mind if it’s Seattle or Phoenix right now.
In the light, his body looks so much better than I remember. Every defined line of his abs is on display and completely—
“Care if I borrow your dryer?” I don’t miss the cocky mockery in his tone.
My eyes come up and narrow on his, while the sexy prick smirks at me knowingly.
Walking over, I snatch the shirt out of his hand, even as his smirk turns into a grin.
“You said you wouldn’t try to seduce me.”
“I said I wouldn’t seduce my friend. We’re not friends yet,” he says, crowding my space as he backs me against the fridge.
My body really likes his body. There’s no denying that.
I almost forget why we can’t do this when his lips brush against mine while he cages me in, sliding a hand down to my hip to tug me in closer. My eyes flutter shut, ignoring my command to stay open. It’s like there’s a magnet drawing our bodies together, and I’m a slave to the pull.
But fortunately, before those lips of his do more than tease mine, the doorbell rings.
“Pizza!” I blurt out, my eyes darting open as I shove at his chest.
He chuckles under his breath while stepping back. “I’ll get the pizza if you’ll toss my shirt in the dryer.”
I don’t argue, because I need some space between us. As I sprint to the laundry room and toss the shirt into the dryer, turning it on, I hear, “Hey, Salem, can my pants go in there too?”
Maverick Sterling is going to drive me insane.
Chapter 6
MAVERICK
I’m grinning at her when she walks back in, a pair of sweats and a T-shirt in her hand that she roughly shoves at my chest.
“I doubt I can wear your clothes,” I say, laughing as she backs up and crosses her arms over her chest, glaring at me.
“They’re my brother’s. Not mine. I steal sweats and T-shirts from him every time he visits me. So you’re in luck.”
“You mean you’re in luck,” I volley, loving the way flirting with her seems to really piss her off. It’s a novelty. Never had that effect on a girl before.
Especially not one I’ve had sex with.
I mean, obviously I piss off all my female friends on the regular, because I’m awesome and fun like that, but not from flirting.
“Just put clothes on, or I swear the next pan out of this box will be cracking the side of your head. You said we’d be friends.”
“Gotta work your way up to friend status,” I remind her, unable to resist taunting her.
She turns her back when I start undoing my jeans.
“Are you seriously undressing in my kitchen?” she asks, her back rigid.
Dropping my jeans to the floor, I answer, “You saw every inch of my body the other night when I was buried balls-deep inside you, so I don’t know why this has you flustered.”
I can tell she’s pinching the bridge of her nose as she shakes her head.
“I don’t think friendship is in the cards for us,” she grumbles, prompting me to laugh as I tug on the sweats. They fit almost perfectly, which means her brother is about my height.
Idly, I wonder if he’s coming to stay here too.
As I tug the dry shirt over my head, I say, “I’m decent. Your shy little eyes can look at me again.”
She gives an exasperated groan as she turns back, takes my jeans, and goes to throw them in the dryer. When she returns, she grabs the pizza box and flips the lid open. I grab a bottle of what looks like really cheap wine and pour us two glasses, working on hiding my inner wine snob.
“I’m not shy, but obviously I’m attracted to you, or we wouldn’t be in our current predicament,” she finally says.
I grin to myself, trying not to cross too many lines, reminding myself that she really should be off-limits.
“Has to be the weirdest one-night stand ever,” I say mildly, hearing her laugh a little.
“Can’t be.”
Facing her again, I find her amused gaze on me as she takes a glass of wine and hands me a piece of pizza. I lean against the counter, eating a bite.
“Why?” I ask around a mouthful.
Really hope this friends thing works on her. Otherwise, my dick is going to revolt from the constant rejection.
She just grins. “It wasn’t the weirdest one-nighter for me, so it can’t possibly be the weirdest one-nighter for you.”
My eyebrows go up. “We really doing this? Are we about to compare our worst one-night stands?”
She rolls her eyes. “I had a guy who stole my panties one time, and not for the pervy reasons you might think. He was actually wearing my pink thong. Caught a peek of them under his jeans when he bent over to put on his shoes.”
I choke on my bite of pizza, and her grin
grows.
“Your turn.”
I can’t believe I’m doing this. She really is trying to move us into the friend-zone, because there’s not a lot of coming back from swapping war stories.
“Girl stole my house key one time when I went to the bathroom. She must have had like ten copies made, because I kept having to call the cops. Found her in my house doing domestic things all the time, and she kept trying to convince me we were in a relationship.”
She shudders, and I nod.
“I know, right? Fucking creeped me out forever. I still don’t know how she kept figuring out my damn security system codes. I swapped to keyless entry, and she stopped breaking in.”
Salem sips her wine, studying me.
“This one time, I brought a guy home from the bar, only to realize I was his vehicle to my brothers, because he had a major crush on Tyler and Connor—wanted a threesome. They were both in town to visit me, and somehow this guy knew that. Totally creepy once we figured out his game. I stopped bringing guys home after that.”
Gah, that’s fucking horrible, but I still laugh, shaking my head.
“I tried to stop. But girls act apprehensive about taking me home sometimes. I’m never sure if it’s because they don’t feel safe, or if it’s because they just want inside a Sterling’s house. I risk it for their comfort, just in case it’s the safety factor.”
She chews another bite of pizza, leaning back against the wall.
“Worst one-nighter ever,” she says, gesturing at me.
I have to think about that. “Probably the time I had a repeat and didn’t realize it was a repeat until I saw the room full of fucking unicorns.”
Her eyebrows go up. “What?”
“Girl took me home from Silk, and I had zero idea I’d ever been with her before. Until that damn room of unicorns. I swear, it was nothing but unicorns—all types, all sizes, all textures. I’d never found unicorns creepy until that moment. Now I hate the fuckers.”
I give a full body shudder.
“It was like the Twilight Zone, because I seriously had no memory of the girl, but I had too many memories of that damn room. I left before things progressed, and got the hell out of there.”