He was scum. No, he was the slimy material under the belly of scum.
The realization their night together had been a one-time occurrence, never to be repeated because she was in a relationship, should have been enough to keep him in check. Not so. Instead, all he could think about was getting her under him, flat on her back. Without even trying, she had him and his morals tied up in knots.
He ran his hand down his face and caught a whiff of her arousal on his fingers, and as impossible as it seemed, his body hardened even more. He stared at his hand as if seeing it for the first time. Resisting the urge to run his fingers under his nose to enjoy her scent again, he went back out into the hallway to the bathroom.
He pumped out the hand soap in large globs, avoiding his own gaze in the mirror.
He wasn’t his father.
Several times he washed his hands, giving them a rough scrub to eradicate any trace of what he’d done.
I’m not my father.
Grinding his teeth, Roarke finally faced himself in the mirror above the sink and didn’t like what he saw. He didn’t pursue women in relationships, and cheating was never an option. All his life he’d stuck to those principles.
Until today.
Today, he and his morals had been blown to bits by a stick of dynamite named Celeste Burton.
Chapter Seven
“What are you doing up here?” Derrick asked, coming into Celeste’s room. “More of the family arrived a while ago. Come on downstairs, and I’ll introduce you.”
Celeste greeted Derrick’s words with the best smile she could manage. After a quick shower and change, she’d hid in the room for as long as she could. When he came to get her, she accepted she couldn’t stay there forever and let her mind dwell on the confrontation with Roarke. She would do her best to steer clear of him for the rest of the weekend, which was no easy task staying one door down in the same house. At the very least, she would avoid being alone with him again.
“Derrick, what’s the deal with you and Roarke?” Saying his name made the apex of her thighs pulse.
His gaze narrowed. “Why?”
Feigning nonchalance, Celeste shrugged. “Just wondering. I know your relationship with your family isn’t the best, and especially with your older brother.”
Derrick paused for a minute, then closed the bedroom door.
“I did bring you into the middle of all this, so I may as well tell you some of what happened. You’ll get a better understanding of my relationship with my family.” He took a deep breath. “You already know the Hawthornes are my half siblings. We have the same father.”
Celeste nodded. She remained silent and watched an emotion similar to pain flit across Derrick’s face.
“The Sperm Donor had an affair with my mother while married to Roarke’s mother, and then, surprise!” He lifted his arms wide. “I came along. Roarke’s my older brother by three months.”
“Derrick . . .” Her heart ached for him. She saw the hurt in his eyes, even though he tried to make light of the situation with sarcasm. “But why is there so much animosity between you and Roarke?”
“That’s easy to explain. The Donor’s wife made him choose. His mistress and his bastard son or his wife and his legitimate son. He chose his wife and son.”
“Derrick, I’m so sorry—”