"Yeah. That's where I ended up too. When my brother Ford was in college, Prentice gave him this project tracking investments. It sounded boring to me, but Ford had been dying to learn more about that side of the business. He took one look at those spreadsheets and fell in love. A week later, Griffen came home from college for the summer, and Prentice took the project from Ford and gave it to Griffen. No explanation. He just took it. He did that all the time. And he always gave the thing you loved to someone else. He loved setting us against each other."
Scarlett turned to face me, her eyebrows drawn together. "That's twisted. I can't imagine pitting my— How do you all not hate each other?"
"We're not as close as we could be," I said, thinking of Griffen and Ford, once closer than brothers, and now… I didn't know what they were now but calling them family seemed like a stretch.
"It didn't always work," I went on, wanting Scarlett to understand, though I didn't know why. "Sterling found a kitten once. She loved that scraggly thing. Prentice said she was too young for a pet and gave it to Parker. Parker loved the kitten, too, but she snuck it into Sterling's room every chance she got. The kitten loved Sterling more. Then, one day, the kitten was gone. We never found out what he did with it."
"He got rid of their kitten?" Scarlett's voice pitched up in outrage. "He really was an asshole."
"Yeah." I laughed under my breath. "You should see the list of suspects West had for Prentice's murder."
"Long?" Scarlett asked, raising one eyebrow, her lips quirked in a smile.
"Very." I grinned back, at that moment in perfect accord with Scarlett Hall. Without another thought, I raised one hand, drove my fingers into her thick, silky hair, and pulled her face to mine.
I'd been thinking about kissing Scarlett since that morning. There was no way that kiss had been as perfect in reality as it was in my memory. I'd been half asleep. I'd embellished. Sure, it had been good, but it couldn't have been the best kiss of my life.
I'd been right. That first kiss had not been the best kiss of my life.
This one was.
I half-expected her to pull away, but Scarlett leaned into me, tipping her lips up, parting them in welcome. So sweet. Her tongue stroked mine, her hands rising to grip my shoulders, holding on as she tilted her head to the side, drawing me deeper.
My arm went around her waist, pulling her hips to mine, edging her back until her legs met the bare mattress behind her. It didn't take much to hitch my knee on the bed and draw her with me. Her back hit the mattress and she groaned low in her throat, her eyes flashing wide with understanding.
My mouth stayed locked to hers even as I moved, settling between her legs, our bodies a perfect fit. Everything about her was a perfect fit. That thought might have been alarming if I'd been sharp enough to consider it.
I didn't want to think. I didn't want Scarlett thinking. I only wanted to feel. Wanted her hand tight on the back of my neck, holding me close as her soft tongue stroked mine. The full weight of her breast in my hand, the pebble of her nipple tight against the lace of her bra. One fingernail scraped the peak and she arched her back, another low moan vibrating in her throat, her legs moving restlessly beneath me.
I thought about stripping her shirt over her head and finally seeing her…
Not yet. I hadn't locked the door. I was drowning in the feel of her, the taste of her, but I was alert enough to remember that I hadn't locked the door. Okay. Next time. For now, kissing was enough. More than enough. I was beginning to think I could kiss this woman all day.
I couldn't remember the last time I'd kissed a woman like this. Not as a prelude to more, to sex. Kissing for the sake of kissing had disappeared from my life sometime after high school. My cock was hard as hell, ready for the slick heat of her pussy. If kissing her was this good, fucking her would be life-changing.
Was that why I was happy I had an excuse to keep our clothes on? Did some deep, subconscious part of me recognize that fucking Scarlett would be so much more than sex? Or was it because just kissing her was so much more than sex had ever been?
The warm silk of her skin under my mouth, her breath in my ear, hard and fast and just as desperate as mine. The quick thumps of her heart under my fingertips. Those sounds in her throat, low moans and tight gasps—if she sounded like this just from my mouth and my hand, how hot would she be once I was inside her?