“And I knew I should stay away,” I admit.
“Why?”
“That whole forbidden, taboo stepsibling thing. And all the hate between you and the family.”
“And yet you still came to the cottage?”
“You made me mad.”
“Let me make it up to you,” he says, his mouth closing down on mine, a deep slide of tongue undoing me. I moan and that’s all it takes. We are crazy, wild, kissing, his hands sliding over my waist, over my hips, cupping my backside. I tug at his shirt, desperate to feel warm skin over taut muscle. Desperate to feel him. He tugs my skirt up and that’s when my doorbell rings.
We both pull back. “Expecting company?” he asks.
“No. No one visits me.”
He pulls my skirt down and strokes my hair again. “Get rid of whoever it is.”
I nod and hurry down a hallway that leads to the front door. I peek through the curtain to find my mother standing there. “Oh God.” I rotate to find Eric in the hallway.
I close the space between us as my doorbell rings. “It’s my mother,” I say softly. “She’s going to go off on me about you.”
He arches a brow. “You want me to leave?”
“No, I want you to stay, but I don’t trust her not to repeat everything to your father.”
“You want to save her but you don’t trust her?”
“She’s not logical with him.”
“I’ll choose my words with that in mind.”
“Sorry about this.”
He cups my head and kisses me. “Make it up to me.”
I smile. “I will,” I promise, and I love that he’s being so easygoing about this.
I hurry back to the door and open it. My mother is standing there, looking stunning and far younger than her forty-six years, her ivory skin pale perfection, her black pantsuit sleek and elegant, her dark hair in waves around her shoulders. “Why haven’t you called me back?” she demands.
“Come in, mom,” I say, backing up to allow her entry.
She steps into the foyer and her eyes lock on Eric. “What the hell is he doing in your house?” she demands and then looks at me. “Don’t you know why he came here?” She looks at Eric. “I know why you’re here.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Harper
“I know what you’re doing,” my mother snaps at Eric again, and my God, she charges at him so quickly that I barely have time to put myself between them.
“Mom!” I shout urgently, my hands catching her arms. “Stop. Stop it right now.”
“Why is he here?” she demands. “Why?”
“If you mean why is he in my house, it’s because I invited him. If you mean, in general, the same answer applies. I went to New York. I found him. I asked him to come here.”
“Then you’re a fool. We are the ones who have something to lose, and he has everything to gain.”
Frustration and anger shorten my patience. “He’s a billionaire, mother. He doesn’t need anything from this family.”