Dad straightened, his focus not leaving Uncle Denver’s face as he straightened his clothes and swiped at his mouth. I pretended not to notice him adjust himself in his jeans. The last thing I wanted to consider was my father’s erection.
I didn’t know my jaw hung open until Dad passed me at the doorway and helped me close it with three fingers under my chin. He chuckled, patted my cheek, and shook his head. “You wouldn’t know the first thing about how to please him. French sandwich my ass. Please. Come back when you’ve lived a little.”
Then he was gone.
The front door slammed closed a few minutes later, and silence crept in from all sides. Uncle Denver steepled his hands under his chin as he leaned back in his chair and examined me with an air of smug humor.
“He thinks I’m a child,” I groused.
“Ask him to teach you.”
“Teach me what?”
“How to please me.”
“No!” The horror-filled look on my face made Uncle Denver laugh. “This isn’t going to happen.”
Uncle Denver shrugged. “Fine. Suit yourself. Close the door on your way out.”
Chapter Four
Denver
I’d been at the office for two hours, working to balance our subsidiary accounts by reconciling entries from the past month. My coffee was cold, and the usual hum of office noise was muted by the snowstorm and heavy winds battering the windows. The world beyond was white, buildings across the street nearly invisible, and the sky was heavy with snow clouds. There was no break in the weather in sight. Most people hadn’t bothered coming to work today, blaming the forecast and bad roads. I, on the contrary, had battled the poor conditions to give myself a breather from Edison.
My dear sweet nephew was going to be the death of me.
Between Edison and Harley, I didn’t know who was more determined to change my mind. It was comical. Before Edison had shown up, before that key phone call nearly a week ago, Harley had let the past go. We’d both been content to bask in the memories of what we’d shared with no delusions that we would ever revisit those times.
Now that he knew what had transpired between Edison and me and how willing I was to pick up where we’d left off, he was determined. I’d created a monster. Like the Harley I’d known in college, he was not going to let anything stand in his way. No longer tied down by his wife, he would fight tooth and nail until he got what he wanted.
God forbid he lose to his son.
Edison thought the whole thing was a joke. A twisted game. He refused to listen to my house rules and did all he could to work his way under my skin. If he wasn’t walking around in nothing but a skimpy pair of underwear, then he was jerking off in his room loud enough the walls rattled with his orgasm.
I was second-guessing this whole crazy notion. Stepping back, looking at the big picture and all I was seeking from my brother and nephew, I was a bit concerned. Normal people didn’t do this. It didn’t cross their minds. Normal people weren’t turned on by the thought of a three-way with their relatives.
Normal people also didn’t relish the memories of fucking their brother and nephew.
A pounding fist against my office door rattled me from deep contemplation over my sanity.
“Yeah?”
Portia Haven, a thirty-year-old intern who’d been with the company for four months, poked her head in. She was unremarkable in every way. Plain features, dull hair in a uniform cut, and limited makeup. Even her clothes made her forgettable—bland earth tones and fabrics with tasteless designs. Half the time, I scrambled for her name, remembering her simply as Miles’s assistant.
“Hey, Denver. I heard you were in. Miles wanted to know if you had time to go over his monthly reports and sign off on them. He’s decided not to come in today. Weather’s bad.” She gestured to my window like I had no idea what was happening in the world beyond. “Anyhow, he said he talked to Toby, and the revenue data should be in your email in the next ten minutes. He’d do it at home, but I guess the program we use never pulls up right on his computer.” She gave an apologetic smile and shrug.
“So he’s not asking, he’s telling me to do his reports?”
Portia held up a hand. “Don’t shoot the messenger. Apparently, Mr. Laudry told him you’d take care of it since you were here.”
Of course he had.
I wanted to say it wasn’t my job, but Mr. Laudry was notorious for rewriting my job description in a pinch when he deemed it necessary. He knew I wouldn’t argue and would bend over and take it every time without complaint.
I bit my tongue and found a weak smile that did nothing to translate my irritation. “Thanks, Portia.”
“Oh, also.” She grimaced. “The printer is out of toner. I called down to maintenance, but no one is available to change it today. Mr. Laudry said you knew how.”
Another half hour of my day would be gone because changing toner was a pain in the ass and the furthest thing from simple. For whatever reason, the process eluded me every time, no matter how many times I’d done it. It required me to refamiliarize myself with the manual and the inner workings of the machine.
Again, not my job.
I sighed. “Yeah. I’ll take care of it.”
My phone rang.
Portia waved a silent goodbye as she slipped out of the room.
At this rate, I’d never get any of my own work done. I picked up my cell and couldn’t help smiling at the sassy picture I’d taken of Edison the other day that I’d set as my wallpaper. He wore a spirited, Harley-esque type smirk on his face. Rebellious and mischievous and sexy all rolled into one. The deviousness behind his eyes was also inherited from his father, and it caused a swell in my chest and pants every time it was aimed in my direction.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in class,” I said, my tone as firm as I could make it but nowhere near as commanding as I would have liked.
“Um, hello to you too?”
“What’s up, Eddy?”
“Classes are canceled. Snow. Are you still at work?”
“Yeah, and it looks like I’ll be here awhile. I’m doing everyone’s job plus my own. Why?”
A long silence.
“I have a counteroffer.”
I glanced at my door, ensuring it was closed. “What do you mean?”
“Your proposal. I have a counteroffer.”
“I never said it was negotiable. In fact, it isn’t.”
“You don’t even know what I’m offering.”
I gazed at the Excel sheet on my computer. My vision blurred while staring at all the numbers and data. I didn’t have time for this conversation, not with Miles’s work to do, the accounts to balance, and the toner issue. But this was Edison, and he called to me in a subliminal way. Work could wait.
It was the story of my life. On one side was this mundane, suffocating job where I jumped through hoops and bent over backward for a shitty paycheck and zero thanks. On the other side was freedom. Forbidden freedom but freedom nonetheless. I’d thirsted and yearned for this escape since the day Harley and I had decided to end our taboo affair twenty years ago. No other man had been able to liberate me from this banal existence until Edison had shown up on my doorstep in August.
Why those two of all people was the million-dollar question. It was sick and perverted and morally unsound. I’d argued against it to exhaustion. In the end, I’d had to admit there wasn’t an explanation. Like Harley had told me a long time ago, it was what it was. Why fight it? Why question it? Just go with it. If it feels good and right, then let it be.