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“What were the odds, actually?” I ask, thinking about the circumstances of Avery’s hiring from a considerably different angle. “That is a good question. How much do you think Charlene knows about us?”
“Enough to put two and two together if she ever finds out where Avery lives.”
The thought hits me like a punch to the gut that I could roll the car window down and puke. “Avery can’t know,” I say it again.
“Fallon don’t push it. You know we have to tell her. It’s the right thing to do.”
I hate to admit it. I don’t want to. But it’s true. It also comes with a whole lot of shame, the kind of shame I spent years burying into the darkest recesses of my mind. Everything that happened with Charlene is a failure on my part, onourpart, but on my part, especially. We never should’ve let things get to the point that they did. And now she knows more about us than she should putting Avery in a delicate position.
Once we’re done talking to Charlene’s parole officer, I leave my brother to the rest of his official duties for the day and head back to the house. There’s too much information swirling about in my head—unfinished thoughts and unanswered questions, unknown details about Charlene and her associates, and loosepuzzle pieces that don’t fit together. I’m sure our parents could help connect most of the dots, but they’re closely guarding their own empire of filth, and they see us as the enemy. There’s no way I could get the old man to talk and just the thought of looking my own mother in the eyes fills me with dread.
The house is quiet in the evening. The girls have gone to bed and I find Avery in her home office, poring over spreadsheets and tapping away on a keyboard, inputting data from scribbled notes on her desk. I love seeing her in this mode—the bubbly blonde with a sharp business mind who isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty in order to get the job done. I think it’s what draws me to her, more and more.
It takes her a while to notice me standing in the doorway, but when she does, a smile stretches across her full lips, and it’s as if the sun itself is greeting me from behind that desk.
“Hey, you,” Avery says, setting the work aside as she gets up.
“Hey, you,” I reply and take a step forward.
She’s wearing jeans and a flimsy silk top in shades of soft and dark pink, but it’s the absence of a bra underneath that’s got my cock hard and aching for her. Unaware of the immediate effect that she has on me, Avery comes closer with a mixture of shyness and concern. “Are you okay?” she asks.
“I am now.”
“Oh,” Avery mumbles, pink roses blooming in her cheeks.
“I’m sorry about the other day. We will tell you everything when the time is right, I promise,” I say to her though it feels like I’m lying to myself by saying the words. I know she needs to hear them, and doing the right thing for Avery supersedes any senseof shame that comes with the lesser choices in my past. “Don’t think for a second that we’re keeping you out of the loop because we prefer it that way.”
“All I can do is trust your judgment,” Avery sighs. “It’s not like I can force you to tell me everything.”
“You could try,” I shoot back with a cool smirk, if only to take some of the edge off.
I didn’t seek Avery out to argue with her. I sought her out to love her, to hold her tight, and to reassure her that she is ours, through and through, no matter what. I’ve got this uneasy feeling telling me to brace myself, that life may decide to throw a major curveball at us in the coming days ahead.
“How could I possibly force you to do anything?” Avery laughs lightly.
She hasn’t caught on yet, so I close the distance between us, measuring her gloriously curvy figure from head to toe before I lose myself in the soft, blue pools of her eyes. “You’re a resourceful woman, Avery. I’m sure you can think of ways to make me do your bidding.”
“Ah, I see,” she says, her lips curling into a mischievous smile.
There it is, that flicker of naughtiness that has my blood coursing hot through my veins.
“Let me see if I’ve got this right, then,” Avery says, cupping my manhood with both hands. I could tear the clothes off her in an instant, but I decide to allow her to lead instead. “You’d be willing to do whatever I want?”
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“On what it is that you want.”
She thinks about it for a moment, then looks me right in the eyes, her lips slightly parted. “I want you to make me come until I can’t take any more.”
“Wow, you had that locked and loaded, huh?”
“Think you’re up to it?”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve proven myself already.”
She nods once and slowly gets down on her knees, quick to peel my pants off. My cock springs free and hungry for her while I take my shirt off. I watch her mouth open wide to receive me—the wet warmth enveloping me wholly, forcing my blood to rush downward.
