Chapter
ONE
KYLE
I fisted my cock, stroking the hard length, and tightened my grip.
My hand ached. I’d been at it a while, and even though my gaze was on my iPad, my mind wandered elsewhere. Fuck, this porn wasn’t getting it done tonight. It wasn’t real. The girl’s moans were as fake as her tits, and the guy kept grunting out his words like a caveman. I tapped the screen, shut it off, and tossed it down on the empty side of my bed in frustration.
Okay, time to get serious. I was tired and didn’t want to fall asleep with my dick in my hand. I shifted under the sheets to get comfortable and focus.
I retrieved the memory which never failed to get me off. Ruby Carter’s drunken laugh while she was sandwiched between me and her friend Leslie, her tight body pressed back against mine, while I worked a hand up her shirt. Ruby had such perfect breasts, and I remembered the shock when I discovered Leslie had beaten me to them. Our palms met over the top of Ruby’s bra, trying to get inside while she squirmed beneath our mutual touch.
Every detail of that night had been committed to perfect memory. I could still smell the sunny laundry detergent that lingered in Ruby’s sheets, and hear the breathless moan she gave as Leslie explored, both girls trying something new and eager for more. I didn’t know how the stars aligned so goddamn perfectly to bring that night into existence, and I wasn’t going to question it.
I pumped my grip, twisting around the head, and then had to flex my fingers to shake the strain from them. Ruby’s breathy moans ramped up in my head as I recalled sliding my fingers down the front of her jeans. I’d decided to stay out of Leslie’s way up top, and skip right to the best part.
Making Ruby come.
There wasn’t anything else like it. I’d fucked women before and after her, but no one compared. She shook violently with the force of her orgasms. Deep groans of pleasure rolled out of her as the waves wracked her body, over and over again. I’d made her come countless times during the ten months we’d dated, but every time she came, it felt . . . new. Like a shocking surprise.
My fingers ached as I squeezed harder, willing my hand not to cramp. Or were they aching because I wished they were buried between Ruby’s legs as they’d been then? She was so wet. Making out with Leslie had turned us both on, and then the potential there’d be more had brought us both to the brink.
I’d barely touched Ruby. Just one swipe of my fingertips on her swollen clit, and she jerked. Her shoulders seized and shuddered, followed by a loud gasp, and then she shattered.
“Fuck,” I whispered in my empty bedroom, echoing Ruby’s word as she came on my damp fingers. I was just as close to coming now as I’d been then, but there was no need to hold back tonight. No need to satisfy anyone but myself. One more stroke, and I’d have a mess on my hands.
My phone rang, vibrating noisily on the nightstand and bathing the room in dull light.
Jesus Christ, what asshole doesn’t send a text at one in the morning?
I ceased moving my hand when I read the screen. Payton McCreary. Although it should probably say Ward now. Her wedding was a week ago, and my independent sister had surprisingly taken her husband’s last name. Was she back from her honeymoon already, or was this a drunk dial where she forgot about the time change?
A weird feeling rolled through me. Payton was wild, but not inconsiderate. She wouldn’t call at this hour unless it was an emergency. And if that was the case, when did I become the one she called for help?
“Hello?” I said, abandoning my cock.
“Kyle.” Relief filled Payton’s voice. “What are you doing?”
“Jerking off. You?” I clamped my teeth together. Where the fuck did that come from?
There was no hesitation from her. “Can you finish later? I . . . need your help.”
My throbbing hard-on began to flag. My sister was confident, but she didn’t sound that way now. Hearing her nervous made me nervous.
“Help with what?” I blinked back confusion as I sat upright.
“I need to talk to you. Can you come over?”
“Now?” I threw off the covers and stood. “Is Dominic around?”
Wait. My mind was slow as the blood began to return to my brain upstairs. She’d told me their honeymoon was short due to Dominic’s demanding job.
“No, I’m not at home.”
“Okay, where are you?”
She paused. “I’m at the Federal building.”
I froze. “You’re where?”
“I’m being questioned by the FBI.” Her voice was clipped. “My friend is, too.”
“Evie?” I asked. Payton had been best friends with Evelyn since college. “Why are you being questioned?”
“Not Evie. His name is Julius, and it’s . . . complicated. Can you come, like, right now? I told him not to say anything until you get here.”
Things sharpened into focus. Payton wasn’t calling me for help as her big brother. I tried to ignore the tinge of disappointment. My sister was a product of our parents. Self-reliant, proud, and headstrong. It made sense she would only need me for legal counsel.
“Yeah,” I said, heading for my closet. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I gazed at the selection before me. “How serious is it?”
Payton’s voice was thick. “Wear your most intimidating suit.”
After passing through security, I was ushered into the FBI office and led down a hallway to a small conference room which probably doubled as an interview space. Gray carpet, a government cheap table, and no windows. My sister sat on one of the worn chairs, staring vacantly at the most wanted list posted on a wall.
Payton looked much younger than her twenty-eight years, sitting alone with worry etching her face and her shoulders slumped. My sister was attractive. I knew because I’d heard about it from guys during high school, the ones who were dumb enough to tell me how fuckable they thought my sister was.
She’d grown into a gorgeous woman. Even if I’d failed to realize that, her fiancé Dominic was quick to remind. Husband, I corrected. How could I forget my little sister was married? My mother hadn’t stopped shooting me disappointed looks throughout the evening this past Saturday. I hadn’t even brought a date to the wedding.