She’s off in her own world swaying her hips as some heavy metal shit blares on the radio. I watch her dance hypnotized by the way she moves. I’m unable to look away as a million dirty thoughts hit me. Wanting her is as natural as my blood coursing through my veins. Freya’s stunning. She took after her mother. Thick hair, big tits, skinny waist.
Yeah, Fisher is the world’s biggest idiot.
Truth is, I could’ve called in a favor to keep his sorry ass from doing time, but I wanted to punish him for what he did to Freya. He broke her heart. I lied to Prez and told him best we could do was reduce his sentence and get him out early with credit for time served and good behavior.
Could’ve made a play to get the evidence thrown out. Shit disappears on occasion. Fuck though. I was here when Freya found out he wasn’t alone when they busted him. That it was her best friend fucking him behind her back. That it was her best friend who set his ass up. I’ll never forget the sob that tore out of her as if someone had died. Part of her did.
She pretends to be strong, but he fucking broke her. I’d give almost anything to be the one to put her back together, but I’m too old for her and a married man with baggage of my own.
Yet there’s nothing or no one to stop me from going after what I want.
“You had dinner?”
“No. Have you?”
“Nope. I could throw us a couple of steaks on the grill.”
Her brows arch. “In the middle of a snow storm?”
I shrug. “Why not?”
“All right.” She licks her lips and I want to taste them.
Chapter 3
“I had no idea you were so handy in the kitchen.” I lean against the stainless-steel prep table, observing as Death marinates the NY strips. Watching him isn’t a hardship. He’s tall enough that with the right heels I’d almost be eye level with him. I wouldn’t say he’s skinny, but the man also isn’t overly thick. I’d call his build medium. Well groomed beard and mustache. His dark hair is just the right length for running your fingers through or grabbing hold of in the bedroom. Not that I would know but what does it for me are his eyes. So blue I could drown in them. Don’t get me started on his smile.
He has a smile that can part thighs and break hearts.
“Don’t tell anyone or these fuckers will expect me to start feeding them.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
He shoots me a wink and my belly flutters. I shouldn’t find the man attractive. He’s at least forty-five and one of my father’s best friends. He’s practically his right hand. I’ve always found him to be handsome, but the older we both get the sexier I find him now that his grays are really starting to show. I’m sure despite the fact that I’m twenty-three with my own apartment, and my nose pierced he still sees me as nothing more than one of the snot nosed brats who drove everyone crazy every summer. Yara, our brothers, and I raised ten kinds of hell. We’d get Whiskey in on the action too only his ol’ man would about skin him alive if he caught him, so his participation tended to be minimal.
No one was safe from our antics including Death. We’d glue the caps back on their beers. Steal their lighters. Catch them asleep and set off firecrackers. Dad would threaten to tan our asses with his belt or to grab a switch, but he never did. Even though he wasn’t the best husband, he loves his kids. Spoiled us rotten. Fed us cake for breakfast and runny eggs for dinner when he wasn’t locked up. Mom hated that he could never seem to be serious, but he never walked out on us by choice.
I guess part of me still holds a grudge that she left when a girl needs her mother the most. I was ten. She calls on occasion and invites me to birthday parties for my younger half-sisters. The twins. I adore Emma and Olivia. It’s my mother that I have a hard time being around. Her perfect house. Perfect husband. Perfect life. She finally has the life her dreams are made of.
“Babe, you hear me?”
I blink. “I’m sorry. What?”
“You still take your steak burnt or can ya handle a little pink?” Death stares at me intensely as though he can see straight through my fake happiness. Like he knows that it is truly the worst sadness.
“A little pink is good. I’m an adult now.” I stick my tongue out at him, earning me a warm smile that gives me a tingle in places it shouldn’t. I know I need to move on from Fisher and let go of the past. I’ve thought about leaving more times than I can count but this is home.
“Can see that.” His gazes rakes over my body, and I can practically feel his hands on me as he massages the meat on the board and slaps some kind of rub on it. My thoughts flash to him handling me as rough yet tender. Heat flashes across the back of my neck. I never knew cooking could be so damn sensual and intimate.
I take a healthy drink from the liquor bottle that traveled to the kitchen with me. “Um, is there anything I can help you with? Like potatoes or something?”
“That’d be good. Thanks.”
“No problem.” I move away from the table. Electricity crackles between us as darkness falls. I glance out the window. The wind continues to howl, and the snow blankets everything it comes into contact with. “It’s really coming down out there. Think we’ll be stuck up here a few days at least.”
“Worst comes to worst I can plow the road.”
“Oh. Well, that’s good.” I don’t tell him that part of me is enjoying the idea of being trapped here with him. I grab a couple of potatoes from the bin, giving them a good scrub before I poke holes in them, and put them in the microwave.