No-o-o-o, she didn’t just ask my boss that. Emma knew well what her mother was talking about since she had read the series. Brant, however, looked adorably clueless. She almost laughed when he replied that he had several ties in that shade. The smile fell off her face, though, about thirty seconds later when Brant said: “I think we will sit in with you tonight, Kat. I really enjoy books that are informative and entertaining.”
He turned to give Emma a triumphant smile. So the little shit thought he was getting to her, did he? That was just priceless. He had no idea that he had just agreed to join her mother’s perverted book club while they discussed bondage, spankings and kinky sex. Had the man been living under a rock? How could he not have heard of that book? He looked a little uneasy when she gave him a big smile in return. “Baby, I think that’s a great idea. I’m always trying to get you to try new things. We need to break free of our chains and get tied up . . . er . . . caught up in something new.”
When they stopped in the doorway of her old room, her mother stood there beaming at both of them. “Oh, this is so exciting. It will be great to have some new blood.” Brant shot her a desperate look over her mother’s head. She shrugged her shoulders and walked into the room they would be sharing for the next few nights. Other than the ragged brown bear in the center of the bed, nothing else stood out as embarrassing. The bed was covered in white eyelet, giving the room a clean, beachy look. There was a bay window dominating one wall with a window seat running the length of it. She had spent many hours sitting there reading while listening to the waves crash against the shore. Her desk sat against the wall in the other corner with an outdated desktop on it. No doubt it was capable of only dial-up Internet. Luckily, she had brought her laptop along.
Her bedroom had its own attached bath complete with double sinks. The thought of having to use the bathroom for anything other than showering with Brant so close was something that she preferred not to dwell on.
Her mother announced, “All right, I’m going to head back downstairs and get everything ready. I’ll see you both soon.”
As soon as her mother left the room, Emma collapsed on the bed behind her. Just picturing Brant sitting with the book club tonight sent her off into peals of uncontrollable giggles. The more he frowned at her, the harder she laughed. “For God’s sake,” he grumbled, “what is wrong with you?”
“Nothing . . .” she managed to gasp. He shook his head at her and walked over to look out the window. When she noticed the way the material of his pants stretched across his tight ass, her laughter dried up and her body started to hum. What is wrong with me? He couldn’t have made it any clearer that this morning meant nothing to him. Stop staring at the enemy’s ass!
She really tried to listen to her own pep talk, but he was so gorgeous. She’d always thought he was gorgeous, but now that she knew him intimately, it was proving hard to go back to snarky business as usual. She wanted nothing more than for him to lower his body on top of hers and pound her into next Sunday. Okay, maybe that was the wrong thing to wish for in her parents’ home, but still . . .
Brant settled back on the edge of the window seat, thankfully moving said nice ass from her view and asked, “So tell me about the rest of your family.”
She gave a grimace thinking of her siblings. Like most brothers and sisters, they spent their early years fighting over toys and most of their later ones ratting one another out to their parents. “Well, I’m the oldest.” She held her hand up when he opened his mouth. “Please reserve your comments on that. Anyway, Robyn is the middle child, and she is twenty-three years old and a hairstylist. Boston is the baby of the family and he’s twenty. He’s attending the University of Florida for a degree in botany. I secretly think it’s so he can learn to grow his own marijuana, but that’s a whole other story.”
Looking confused, Brant said, “Wait a minute. I thought Boston was the family dog or something. Who names their kid that?”
Emma shuddered. “Please, under no circumstances are you to ask my mother about it unless you want some really graphic details. I’ll just say that my mother swears he was conceived there after a particularly great weekend. She felt like she needed a permanent reminder so . . . Boston. Thank God he was the only one who inspired that; otherwise, I would probably be named Tampa or Daytona.”