“Did it stop?” I asked, suddenly curious, unable to look away from the wistful look reflected in her face as she stared at the ocean.
She gulped, her blue eyes glassy. “It had to. People grow up, Tank.”
I crossed my arms. “Just because you grow up doesn’t mean you stop needing to hear stories about love and hope. You’ll be ninety and still smiling when the prince earns the princess’s good favor. You’ll be a hundred and still smile at a first kiss. You’ll die knowing you were loved, and loved in the very best way. So, no, you don’t just grow out of it, Tiny.”
She gasped—it was slight—and then she awkwardly mumbled something about unpacking.
And I was left wondering what the hell had happened between the wedding and this year, and even more curious how involved she was with the death of that FBI agent.
Guilt pounded like a freaking heartbeat against my chest when I thought about that day.
About what had gone down.
And what hadn’t.
Did they know?
Was that the reason the Families accepted me?
Because when it came time to choose—I chose them.
And protected her in really the only way I knew how.
By grabbing a drink with her, by talking, flirting, and for one fucking moment going…it’s okay to like her, to find her attractive. It’s okay to feel possessive.
It would be okay.
I let out a groan.
Clearly, the only thing that had just broken was a wall, even slightly. Okay, so I made a scratch against it, but it was still a scratch.
Hell.
I had to be nice.
Like really nice.
I had to be vulnerable to possibly the only girl who could hurt me, who could stomp all over my heart with her stilettos and laugh while doing it.
Once she was out of earshot, I dialed Ash’s number, the one person I knew I could trust and who wouldn’t actually kill me dead for what I was about to say.
“Kinda busy…” he groaned into the phone. So, they wasted no time.
“I figured.” I peered around the living room entrance to make sure Tiny wasn’t creeping back up on me like a bad nightmare. “Look, I need you to help me seduce Kartini, but in a way where my dick stays intact, her father doesn’t shoot me in the face then rip my dick off and feed it to me, and she doesn’t get hurt.”
He was silent.
“Ash?”
“Are you shitting me right now?”
I groaned. “Yes, because I just love interrupting sexy times with my two friends just so I can shit with you. Look, I’ll tell you later why, just know that, right now, my last job before I join this little funhouse you guys call a Family is to find something out. And the only way I can do that is to get closer to her. And, right now, she looks ready to impale me with all ten fingernails.”
“Dangerous game, bro.” Ash sighed. “Fine, give us five minutes, then get your ass over here.”
I whistled. “Only five? Ash, I’m fucking disappointed.”
“Ha!” I could almost see him flipping me off. “Trust me, she won’t be. I can’t help it if I please her so fast, she sees stars before I’m even ready to—”
“Yup, yup, good talk. Gotta go.”
I hung up to his laughter.
And most likely her moans.
I shuddered and then checked my watch.
Five minutes.
And I was going to her cousin for intel.
And telling him the whole story of why I needed her.
But leaving out the part where I actually admitted that I never stopped wanting her for the last year.
With every stolen look.
Every fight.
Every scowl.
I’d wanted her.
I’d just have to shove that want deep down and do my job so I could get out of the FBI alive.
And into the Family—my family. For good.
I mean, how hard could it be?
“Hey, ass face,” Kartini called. “Our tequila here yet?”
I groaned and fell face-first onto the couch, only to feel a slap against my ass, then another as she sat on me and sighed. “Why are they so slow?”
“Ask God.” I moaned into a pillow.
And nearly groaned when her hand found my ass again, this time to squeeze.
Maybe seduction wouldn’t be so hard, after all.
On her.
But for me?
That was another matter entirely.
Chapter Six
Kartini
I expected to get drunk, listen to music on the beach, and maybe have a one-night stand.
Instead, I was trying not to stare at Tank while he did pushups two hours later in the living room and nearly died when a bead of sweat ran down the middle of his back and into his dark Nike shorts.
His muscles had muscles. He was every girl’s fantasy wrapped up in one sexually pent-up package.
I may have licked my lips when he groaned and flipped onto his back for situps—damn those abs. Damn them to hell because…just…damn.
I reached for him like an idiot, my fingertips flinching at my sides as if they needed something to hold onto, and that something was all eight abs.