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His mouth tightened. “That’s not fair.”
“Nope, it sure isn’t, but too bad,” I said. “I have no way to pay you back for a favor that big. Beyond the crass, obvious ones.”
“That is not an issue for us. We’re past that.”
“Yeah? Seriously? You’ve known me for what, twelve hours? And now you’re laying your fortunes and armies at my feet? Come on. You’re busy, you’re stressed, you’re overextended with your own problems, and our thing is just too new for this. You’re not thinking straight, so I have to think straight for you. Let it go, Ethan. We are not having this conversation right now.”
“I can’t,” he said.
“Well, that’s not up to you,” I said. “However…”
“However, what?” His eyes brightened.
“The night’s still young,” I said. “And we are all fueled up with your incredible pancakes. Do you want to spend this precious night arguing with me, and trying to manipulate and control me? Or would you rather spend it blowing my mind with your magic dick?”
I strolled around the bar, and laid my hands on his shoulders, then slid them down his chest. Then still lower, down that tangle of chest hair that narrowed to a treasure trail over his gorgeous, taut abs. His cock tented his sweatpants out, fully erect, hot and eager. I pulled it loose, caressing the big, blunt, heart-shaped head, sliding my fingers around, making them slick with pre-come. Swirling my fingers in tender little teasing circles on his velvety cockhead.
“Well, damn,” he said, unevenly. “When you put it that way…”
His arms went around me, our lips touched, and something inside me just threw up its hands. It was stupid, ill-considered, risky, self-indulgent. And more fabulous sex was not going to make this man’s protective instincts any easier to manage, that was for damn sure.
But I wanted this. I wanted more. As much as I could get.
And I was by God taking it.
CHAPTER15
Vincent
He looked up from the video he was watching on his tablet as the door opened.
Ah. His sister, Nicole. Back home to be punished for her latest fuckup.
He looked back down, letting Nicole stand there and wait as he finished an inspiring YouTube video that had just been posted by Mia Wilkes, an attractive female neuroscientist. She was a popular viral sensation, having released a series of documentaries and a very well-received TED talk, which already had millions of views.
She’d released a bi-weekly flurry of YouTube videos since then. Mia focused on motivation, not that Vincent lacked it. She promised life-transforming results from following her recommended routines. He liked her low, velvety voice, the way he felt when she demonstrated the explosive energy in her thigh muscles in her burpees and squat jumps. Exercise was an important component of Mia’s secret sauce for success.
He spared a quick glance at Nicole. The controlled anger in her face. Their father had made him team leader after Nicole’s shocking fuckups, and had given Vincent full control of this operation. About fucking time, after being under that snotty bitch for years. Vincent could finally get back at her for her many cruelties and humiliations, small and large, over the years. Ever since they were kids.
The video ended, and he sighed, contemplating how he might gain access to the dick-tingling Mia Wilkes. Large sums of money were an unbeatable strategy. And he felt oh, so motivated by her exquisitely defined ass.
Once they got SmokeScreen, after the Event happened, he’d be able to summon any woman he pleased. Any woman on earth would open her legs or her mouth for him, on command. That was how it was for Vincent’s father, Owen Halliwell, with his almost inconceivable wealth.
Not that Vincent had ever benefited from his father’s wealth. Vincent was just one of Halliwell’s illegitimate brood, just like Nicole. Halliwell had groomed and molded them all into tools to serve his empire. Disposable tools. Because if one of them failed, he or she was disposed of, usually in front of the rest of them. Owen Halliwell considered it very important that they all fully internalize the price of failure.
This was Nicole’s last chance…and it would take place squarely under Vincent’s grinding thumb. Sweet.
He wanted to punish his father and Nicole both. Vincent would show that arrogant old goat Halliwell what he was made of. Nicole would regret having bullied and tortured him. His father would regret not recognizing his true potential. After the Event, Vincent would be exponentially wealthier than Halliwell ever had been. Not that his father would live to see it, of course. But he could watch from the fiery pits of hell.
Thinking of the pits of hell reminded him of Nicole, still waiting for his attention. She resented being placed beneath him? Good. Let her squirm. She deserved it, after her mistakes. And when he’d used her up, she’d join their father in hell…and both of them could watch Vincent rule. While they writhed and shrieked in the flames.
Vincent had been a member of her team last year, when she’d been tasked to get SmokeScreen for Halliwell, and to secure one of the Masters brothers to unlock it. She’d almost pulled it off…until she didn’t. She’d captured Shane Masters, but she had let their fall guy, Jed Clearwater, get away clean, which meant that all their complicated, expensive, exhaustive months of prep work had been for nothing. She’d let the meathead she’d partnered with, Wex Boer and his band of idiot mercenaries, fuck everything up.
Halliwell had been so furious, he’d taken Shane Masters for himself, since Nicole clearly could not be trusted with him. Not that the man was of any use, to him or anyone. Then Nicole failed again, in Oregon. She’d had Freya Masters and Jed Clearwater right in her grasp…and she’d lost them. Again.
The incompetence boggled his mind. She’d barely stayed ahead of Jed Clearwater and the other Unredeemables’ relentless hunt ever since. Vincent had expected Halliwell to have her shot on sight, but oh no. Little Nicky had gotten yet another chance to win back her status as Daddy’s fucking favorite.
The only way Nicole could get out of the doghouse now was to get her hands on another Masters brother, and once again this morning, she had failed. The debacle at the Fletchley Building was another expensive preparation, wasted. A huge, embarrassing clusterfuck.
