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“Lucky him,” he drawled. “Now go ruin his perfect little life instead. ”
Her tinkling laughter grated on his nerves as she turned and walked out the way she’d come. Damn. As relieved as he was that the engagement was over, the taste of betrayal was still thick in his mouth. His best fucking friend and fiancée. How classic was that? The cliché was enough to drag a mocking snort from him.
He stared at the whisky then poured another drink.
He’d no more than shot that one back when, son of a bitch, the door opened again. He was seriously going to have to collect the keys he had given to the penthouse. This was getting out of control.
The place was fucking Grand Central Station tonight, and he’d just about had his fill of it.
And there she was.
Imp.
The little demon sprite.
The torment of his life.
Too fucking young, but getting a head start on experience.
She’d been running with a promiscuous set of friends for years. Friends that had no problem bragging about the privileges she allowed.
He didn’t blame her for them. Hell, she was a beautiful woman. She was almost family. That was the problem. She was “almost” family. That tormented him, because he was damned for wanting exactly what she had gifted those other men with. He wanted that and more. So much more that he kept as far away from her as possible.
He didn’t hold it against her. Hell, he’d done worse in his sexual past, but it burned in his gut like a sore because he wasn’t one of the lucky ones. How fucking brutal was that?
“Go home, Sierra. ” He was too drunk for this. He’d had his life nicely planned out, and as much as he felt relief that the engagement was over, still, it had been his plan, and she’d fucked it up. And he was just drunk enough that his logic capabilities weren’t at their strongest.
“I don’t want you to hate me. ” She was braver than Marlena. She actually stepped into the main room and faced him boldly.
With her hard nipples.
With her lush lips and hungry slate gray eyes.
“Why the hell did you have to make it your business?” He growled.
The same reason he would have made it his business, of course. It was happening, it was wrong, and they were friends. Close. They hungered for each other, and they both fought it.
“Because I care about you,” she whispered. “You’re my friend, John. When Gerard asked me to the restaurant, I knew what he was doing because your mother had told me you and Marlena were supposed to be there tonight. They were going to stand and lie to your face. They were rubbing your nose in it, and I hated that. ”
Her hands were clasped tightly together, sincerity and that damned hunger flickering in her eyes.
“Bullshit,” he snapped. “You’re not my fucking friend, Sierra. Friends gloat later, they don’t give a fuck if you make a mistake while you’re making it. ”
He should know. Other than possibly Sierra, it was the only type of friend he’d ever had.
Her lips thinned. He liked the lush look better.
“Then marry her already,” she charged back in anger. “If you’re so pissed at me, get down on your knees and beg her back. I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to watch you beg. ”
“Fuck you, Sierra!” And only God knew how bad he wanted to fuck her.
His cock was pounding, hard and desperate. She always affected him like this, and now the alcohol was only intensifying it. He never drank around Sierra for a reason. It totally screwed with his self-control.
“Why did you even fucking care?” He couldn’t get it out of his mind. No one else would have told him, and he knew Gerard. Gerard hadn’t hidden it from anyone but John. And of all his so-called “friends,” only Sierra had dared to reveal the truth in a manner neither Marlena nor Gerard could deny it.
“Because I care about you, dummy,” she burst out in exasperation. “Do I have to beat that into your head?”
It was more. He’d seen it in her eyes at the restaurant and he saw it now.
