Chapter FIVE
She had watched me. F*ck.
It had been so easy to close my eyes and sink into Anya while picturing Blaire’s face looking up at me. Her mouth slightly open and her cheeks pink. The fast breaths she would take as I filled her over and over again. I’d come so f*cking hard I had been weak when it was over.
I also hadn’t been able to look at Anya. I had felt like an ass. I didn’t f*ck women while picturing someone else in my head. It was wrong. But I had felt Blaire watching me. My entire body had come alive when the heat from her gaze found me.
When I had turned my head just enough to glance back at her, the door to the pantry was closing behind her. She had left. But her presence had made me harder than I’d ever been. Why was she getting to me like this?
The first thing I noticed when I walked into the kitchen this morning was that the place was cleaned up. I hadn’t left it like this. I had sent Anya home with a peck on the cheek and a thanks, before closing the door on her and running off to my room to pace and curse.
Which meant . . . Blaire had cleaned up. Why was she cleaning shit up? I told her I didn’t need her to clean up.
I moved to make coffee, slamming cabinets and drawers as I went. I hated thinking of Blaire in here cleaning up the mess Anya and I had made. I hated the fact that she’d done it after watching me f*ck Anya. But more than those things, I hated the fact that I gave a f*cking shit.
“Who the hell pissed in your Wheaties?” Grant’s voice startled me, causing me to slosh scalding-hot coffee on my hand.
“Stop f*cking sneaking up on me,” I growled.
“I knocked on the damn door when I walked in. What’s your deal?” Grant sounded as unfazed by my angry outburst as I expected. He went behind me to fix himself a cup of coffee.
“You made me burn my hand, you dickwad,” I snarled, still pissed that I had been so lost in my thoughts that I hadn’t even heard Grant enter the house.
“No coffee yet, huh? Drink up. You’re acting like an ass. After your night with Anya and her talented oral skills, I would have thought you would be in a much better mood.”
I stuck my hand under the cold tap water in an attempt to cool off my heated skin. “I just woke up. And how did you know Anya was here last night?”
Grant jumped up and sat on the counter before taking a sip of coffee. I dried my hand on a towel and waited for him to tell me how he knew about Anya.
“She called me last night. Wanted to know who the girl was living in your house.” He shrugged and took another sip.
I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of this. How did she know about Blaire? I hadn’t told her.
“Stop with that confused frowning thing you do. It’s annoying,” Grant said, waving his cup in my direction with a smirk. “She saw Blaire last night when she came home. Apparently, you two were getting busy outside, but she saw Blaire over your shoulder. She was curious about why she disappeared under your stairs . . .” he said, trailing off.
I could tell there was more to the story so I waited. When Grant didn’t continue, I glared at him.
He chuckled in response, then shrugged. “Fine. I was going to leave out the part where you looked back at Blaire and then f*cked the hell out of Anya. She noticed something switched in you, dude. Sorry, but you’re not that good at covering your emotions up.” His grin grew wider. “Best f*ck she’s ever had, though. But then, she hasn’t had me.”
I was gonna have to send her flowers. Or something. Shit! She had known it was Blaire that got me off last night. I was an even bigger dickhead than I thought.
“It’s Anya. She doesn’t care. You know that. She’s in it for the sex, just like you are. Nothing more. But I will suggest that you get your shit together, and fast. If Blaire is getting under your skin, then you need to stop it. Now. She’s not an Anya, and you know it. Besides, you can’t touch her. She is gonna hate you when all this comes out. Her dad, your sister, all of it. You can’t go there, and you know it.”
He was right. Blaire was not someone I could ever get close to. Soon I would be her enemy, and she’d hate me as much as I had hated her over the years. The only difference would be that she had a reason to hate me. I would deserve her hate. “I know,” I said, hating the way it tasted on my tongue. The truth.
“I’ve got to get to work. Thought I’d come by and let you know about my late-night call from Anya first, though,” Grant said, jumping down and carrying his cup to the sink.
“Thanks,” I said.
He slapped me on the back. “It’s what I’m here for. To keep your stupid ass straight,” he teased, and then turned and walked away.
I waited until the door closed behind him before heading to the shower. I had a full day ahead. First, I needed to send some flowers and an apology card to Anya. That would be the end of our f*ck visits. I couldn’t do that to her now. Even if she was cool with it, I wasn’t.
Nan was waiting for me when I walked back downstairs after getting dressed. I was wondering how long she would stay away pouting. She knew Blaire was here, and she was pissed. Her long red hair was gathered to the side in a ponytail that fell over her bare left shoulder. The white tennis skirt she was wearing was meant to be worn with a matching polo. But that was too boring for Nan. She had ordered a tank top that she had some fancy name for. I had made fun of her for weeks.
“She’s still here,” Nan said in an annoyed tone.
“No, she’s at work,” I replied, knowing that wasn’t what she meant.
“Work? She’s at work? You’ve got to be kidding me!” Nan’s tone went from annoyed to a screech. My little sister wasn’t used to not getting her way with me. I was the one person in the world who moved mountains to make sure she was happy. But this time . . . this time, it was different. I wasn’t hurting someone innocent just to make Nan happy. I had my lines, and she’d pushed me to draw one here.
“Nope,” I said, walking past her and toward the living room, where I was sure I’d left my wallet last night before getting naked outside.
“Why is she working? Why is she still here? Did you call Mom?”
Nan wasn’t taking the hint. She was going to make me tell her that I wasn’t giving in this time. She was going to lose this argument with me. I wasn’t kicking Blaire out. Not for her . . . hell, not for anyone. The girl needed help. “She got a job. She needs money to get on her own feet. Her mother died, Nan. She buried her mother alone. All f*cking alone. Now the father you two share is off in Paris with our mother, enjoying life. I’m not just throwing her out. This is my fault.”
Nan stalked toward me and grabbed my arm tightly. “Your fault? How is this your fault, Rush? She’s no one to us. No one. Her mother died, but I don’t care. Her mother ruined my life. So that sucks for her. But none of that is your fault. Stop trying to save the world, Rush.”
I had created this heartless woman. Another thing that was my fault. Nan had been neglected as a child, and I had tried like hell to make up for it. Instead, I’d created a heartless, vengeful adult. I would do anything to change that, but I didn’t know how.
I looked down at her and wished I didn’t still see the sad little girl I wanted to save. It would make it so much easier to be hard on her. But she was my baby sister. She always would be. I loved her for better or for worse. She was my family.
“It’s all my fault. Blaire’s problems and yours,” I said, and jerked my arm free of her hold. I grabbed my wallet off the coffee table and headed for the door. I had to get away from my sister. She wasn’t helping my mood.
“Where is she working?” Nan asked.
Pausing at the door, I decided that was something Nan would eventually find out herself, but I wouldn’t tell her. Blaire needed more time to settle in before my sister went after her. I would see what I could do to be there when that happened. “Don’t know,” I lied. “Go visit your friends. Go play tennis. Go shopping. Just go do what it is you do that makes you happy. Forget about Blaire being here. She’s my problem, not yours. Trust me to do this right.”
I opened the door and left her before she could say anything else. I was done with this conversation. I had shit to fix.