Our kiss lingers. When he pulls away, I’m dazed. His lips are expert at whichever set of lips on me they are tasting. Releasing a dreamy sight, I lift my head. My eyes widen at the huge, red-bricked mansion in front of me.
Three steps up lead to the raised area and the front door. It’s too elegant to be a porch, and too Midwestern to be a veranda. Instead of attempting to name it, I follow Sloane into the house.
Despite the vastness of the entrance hall, the colors give it a homey feel. No intimidating crystal chandelier screams expensively exclusive. Seeing my awe, he smiles in satisfaction and guides me down a hallway painted a cheery yellow, where he pauses.
“The receiving room.”
My eyes draw together and he shrugs.
“I’m just going by what the realtor and the decorator told me, sweetheart.”
I peep inside and wrinkle my nose at the sky blue walls and white furniture.
“I rarely use it, so don’t worry about it.”
“Couldn’t you change it?”
Shaking his head, he starts off down the hall again. “That’s where I fucking visit with my father, so it stays,” he says tersely.
It reminds me of what I’d read about his happy home life, as he’d grown up. Judging by his tone, the stories couldn’t be farther from the truth. I sigh. If I ever return home, I’m burning every article I’d ever saved about him. They’re all crap.
Framed portraits and artsy posters—also framed—of Phoenix Rising line the walls the further into the house we walk.
He opens another door and steps aside. “My office.”
It’s a standard home office with a desk, hutch, bookcases, and chairs. A door on the opposite side opens to a half bath. He has a sunroom, a living room, a breakfast room, and a dining room, that splits off in three different directions. One way goes to the breakfast room, another leads to a huge open space that I deem the den, and the final way brings us to the kitchen, with the stainless steel appliances that look brand new.
A paler yellow than the hallway color covers the walls, and blue and white accents makes it rather inviting.
“Do you cook?”
He grins. “I char.”
“You burn,” I correct with a giggle.
“Do you cook?”
He turns it around on me. I sniff. “I can boil stuff.”
“Stuff?” he repeats dubiously.
“Eggs. Pasta. Potatoes.”
“We’ll figure something out,” he promises with a sigh and rubs his brow. “My staff has been given paid leave while you’re my guest, so my cook isn’t here to prepare our meals.”
Nodding, I peep at my toes, but he tugs me towards the entrance hall and a door in the far left corner. He presses his thumb against a flat silver pad. The door slides open, revealing an elaborate staircase.
“There’s a back entrance, too,” he explains. “You can get out, but make sure you have whatever you need. I’m the only one who can get in here, besides Zelda, and she’s been given time off with everyone else.”
I frown. “Why her?”
“She’s been with my family since I was five.” He eyes me. “We don’t need to get her involved in our business.”
“She’d turn you in?”
“She’d lecture the fuck out of me and then protect me with her life.”
“Would she like me?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes. If she’s known you since you were a child, she’ll have some influence over you.”
He doesn’t answer me or give me one clue to his thoughts.
“Do the guys know we’re lovers?”
“I swore I wouldn’t touch you. They believed me, so this is between us.”
My eyes narrow in skepticism, but he truly believes we’re a secret, so I trust him.
A red light flashes on the panel. “I’ve taken too long to open the door. In thirty-five more seconds, an alarm will sound throughout the house, if I don’t repeat the procedure.”
I’m speechless, for a second, and jump when the door slams shut. “Is there a reason you have Pentagon-style security?”
“Yes,” he says tightly. “And his fucking name is Kiln.”
Sloane
In silence, I lead Georgie to the master bedroom. She’s had the wind taken out of her, so I attempt an explanation. In a few minutes. Right now, I’m too busy enjoying her reaction to my house. It’s as if she grew up in a trailer park. One thing that’s been so difficult for me is that there isn’t a lot I can offer her that will impress her. An expensive bauble as a bargaining chip is out of the question, because her parents shoved jewels, cars, and money at her without her having to ask.
Still, I’ve gotten control of Georgie through attention and orgasms. She’s mine, body and soul, and I know it.