She stammers. "Uh… my point is, you don't eat candy. You don't even put sugar in your coffee."
"And?" I ask.
"Do you like men?"
"No."
"So why would you deep throat a lollipop?"
"I'm not going to deep throat it."
Her cheeks flush. "No. Just the tip?"
"Do men still use that line?"
"I don't think so." She blushes. "No one's ever tried it with me."
She's been in a position for it. Been with someone?
Jealousy buzzes through my veins. I hate the thought of her with someone else. Ever.
And especially since she kissed me.
Did it mean nothing to her?
Am I that out of my fucking mind?
I bite my tongue so I won't say something I can't take back.
"They have pussy pops. That might work better for you." Her eyes flit to the bedroom. "But they might inspire Ty so much they go right there."
"In the other room."
"We have multiple rooms?"
"Of course. A suite."
"Of course." She laughs knowingly. "Sometimes I forget I'm surrounded by rich people."
I understand that. I didn't grow up with money. My father was in the military. Like Ty and Ian's father.
We did okay. We were never hungry or on the verge of losing our home, but we were careful with money.
Then Ty and Ian formed their company and asked me to run their London office and—
All of a sudden, I had enough to buy anything and everything.
"You'll get used to it," I say.
"Maybe." She looks to the window. Studies the darkening sky. "Shit, what time is it?"
I check my watch. "Six forty-five."
"We're meeting at seven?"
"Yes." Have I really been here for hours?
"Shit." She slides off the couch. "I hope my dress is dry. Ty picked this place?"
"Yes."
"So everyone is going to look expensive?"
"He will. Your sister will."
"And you look great." Her nose scrunches. "Why do you always look so good?"
"To make your life difficult."
"Now, it makes sense." She smiles and moves toward her bedroom. "I'll be fast."
"You need anything?"
"I don't know. Some vodka and diet maybe…"
"You're nervous?"
"No." She moves into the room. Closes the door. "I just… never mind."
I rise. Take three steps toward her. "Never mind?"
"The suit," she calls from her bedroom, "why do you wear it everywhere? There's no way it's that comfortable."
"Try one. You'll see."
"It's eighty and humid."
"Not today." It's late September. The weather is cooling.
"Tomorrow though."
"Summer wool."
"Uh-huh."
"It's breathable."
"Then why not wear it running?"
"Do you need the handicap?"
She laughs. "I'm flipping you off right now."
"Of course."
I give her space. Piss. Wash up. Find the vodka in her freezer. Pour two shots over ice. Fill both glasses with diet.
The soda does nothing to hide the taste. It's terrible. Like drinking straight rubbing alcohol.
How does anyone drink vodka?
Besides the hidden booze, the fridge is packed with fresh food. Eggs, bread, almond butter, pasta.
Sienna cooks for herself.
She takes care of herself.
She and Indigo have been on their own for a long time. And now it's just her. Yes, her sister is three floors up, and they'll always be sisters, but marriage changes things.
Sienna needs someone.
The image flashes in my mind: Sienna, in my flat, spread out on the couch watching a reality TV marathon as I finish dinner, racing to the table, throwing her arms around me.
Smiling like she's madly in love.
Which is ridiculous.
Wanting to fuck her is one thing.
Wanting to take care of her?
That's out of the fucking question.
"Cam?" Her voice interrupts me. "Can you come here? I need help with the zipper." She taps on the bedroom door. "It's open."
She's inviting me into her bedroom.
No problem.
I do have self-control.
I won't lose my shit.
I move toward the door slowly, rest my hand on the knob, take a deep breath.
Sienna is a friend who needs help with her zipper. That's all it is.
I slip into her room.
It's a small space with a full bed, a TV, a long closet with a mirrored door. The walls are decorated in glow in the dark shooting stars. They're soft against the dim light, the sunset flowing through the windows, the paper lantern string lights.
"Cam?" She motions to her bare back.
Her dress is falling off her shoulders, leaving the long line of her spine on display.
"Cam?" Her voice stays soft. "The zipper."
"Of course." I move closer. Until I'm close enough to touch her.
My fingers brush her lower back.
She lets out a soft groan.
I pull the zipper up a centimeter at a time.
My hand lingers on the nape of her neck. It feels too fucking good touching her. I want to do it again.
I want to do it all fucking night.
Chapter Thirteen
Sienna
My shoulders relax as I step into the restaurant.
Ty and Indigo are at a four-seat table. Ty's brother Ian and his girlfriend Eve aren't joining us for dinner.
I don't have to nod and smile as Indie and Eve gush over the new artist of the week. Have you heard the second verse of this song? It's amazing!
With Cam here, I wouldn't be a total fifth wheel, but it's still a relief, knowing I don't have to compete with Eve's knowledge of music and art and culture and everything that goes way over my head.
"Is it just us today?" I ask as nonchalantly as possible.
"Should we ditch your sister?" Cam's fingers skim my lower back.
My dress is thin. I can feel all the heat of his hand. The pressure. The perfect mix of hardness and softness.
"Grab drinks at the bar. Pretend we don't see them?" he asks.
Yes, let's go back to my place and spend the night in my bed. "No. I mean, uh, Ian and Eve. Are they coming too?" I try to keep my voice casual.
But he finds something in it. "You don't want them here?"
"No… I uh… I'm just wondering."
"I never took you for a liar."
"I'm not lying."
He raises a brow really.
It's the same way Ty does it. Ian too, actually. The three of them share so many similarities.
They're family.
This can't happen.
I can't stare at his lips dreaming about kissing him again. Even if they're such beautiful, soft lips. "I'm, uh…"
"You're full of shite?"
Maybe a little. I don't dislike Ian and Eve. They're fun, especially when Ian is riling Ty (honestly, Ty falls for every one of his older brother's traps). I appreciate the company and the increasing size of our family. "It's more that…"