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“Yes,” I agree with a smirk. “Fucking good head.”

“You’re crazy, you know that?”

“As crazy as you.”

She lets out a sigh and stares into my eyes. I love the way her eyes twinkle when she smiles, switching between green and blue depending which way you look at her.

“I don’t care what happens between us. I have fun when I’m with you. I don’t want that to stop.”

“Why does it have to?”

“You know...” she trails off. “Feelings and stuff get in the way.”

I cup her chin again, bringing her face into mine until my lips are planted on her sexy mouth.

“So, let it.”

With an infectious grin, she kisses me back deeply which switches me into aroused mode. Pulling back, her stare is full of lust and follows with her falling to her knees again.

We celebrate the moment with what Poppy does best—an excellent blow job.

When she’s finished and I’m sitting on cloud nine, she reluctantly leaves the apartment to fly back home, but not before asking me for the millionth time if I’m okay.

I tell her I am in the end, simply to shut her up.

But I’m not.

How can I be?

Alone, in the dark, my head begins to conjure up things. Things that won’t go down well if Logan shows his face anywhere near me. He lied, he betrayed my trust, and he stole my sister ready to use her like he does every woman who enters his life.

He shouldn’t have messed with me.

I know every dirty little secret of his, everything but this.

And now I need answers.

I pick up my cell and dial his number—voicemail.

My rage intensifies with every missed call until finally, an hour later, his name appears on my screen.

I clutch at my cell with the tightest of grip, watching the color drain from my hand until it’s almost all white. I do my best to control my ill feelings toward him, but the second I answer and the call connects, I lash out at the one man I’ve trusted my life with.

Logan fucking Carrington—my ex-brother.

LOGAN CARRINGTON

“Should George be eating that cracker?” I yell into the bedroom while watching George with one eye as he devours a cracker in the corner of the kitchen. I know he doesn’t like to be watched it’s another quirky habit of his that baffles me.

Inside the bedroom, Emmy’s sitting on our bed reading.

“Can you not scream that in front of George? It’s diet doggy crackers. Ever since you hit the scene, George has put on a few pounds.”

“A few?” I laugh. “The dog can’t fit through the doggy door. Last night, I had to save him from an embarrassing failure as he tried to pass through it.”

“You’re not helping his ego right now,” she complains, pouting her lips looking all cute and shit.

I grab the remote from the nightstand and climb into bed. I love the sheets are warm and that inside the bed is this sexy woman who belongs to me—my fiancée.

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