Bad Boy's Baby Part 45

"I'm not," he said.

"I'm not surprised."

"You're gonna tell me you didn't have fun?"

It wasn't like I could lie. He had been there. He personally witnessed how many times I humiliated myself. I begged for him to debase me, and he did it perfectly.

"This isn't about that night," I said. "This is about here and now. You're the least trustworthy man I know. I am not sharing a house with you. I want you gone."

"You're right. I didn't tell you that we were step-siblings." He leaned closer. My heart and stomach duked it out between flitters and flops and every inappropriate b.u.t.terfly that grew to the size of a hawk. "But everything else that night? That was totally honest. We had an un-f.u.c.king-believable night of s.e.x. You can't bluff that."

I could and I would. He didn't buy it.

"Admit it, Shay. We aren't strangers, and you're kidding yourself if you think I'm gonna walk out that door and forget all about you. Ain't happening. You're in my blood now, and I'm in yours."

"I'm not falling for it."

"I'll keep the addiction hidden if you can."

He smirked. I sunk back against the fridge though I'd only find relief if I ducked inside of it.

His eyes. The dimples. That unbelievable body still shining with the occasional drip-drop of water. I followed a single sparkling bead as it crossed over the shadow of his pecs, along the ridged six-pack of his tongue-tempting abs, and lower. It crested in the V which peeked from the waistband of his shorts.

The man was perfection.

And what waited beneath the shorts? The source of his pride. The one delight I had yet to forget from the biggest mistake of my life.

He caught me staring at it. Thinking about it.

Wanting it.

Holy Christ, I was as big a perv as him. Crushing on my step-brother was bad enough. He was nothing but a no-good con-artist who got his money and his rocks off all in the same night.

This was a nightmare and a half. I'd abandon the house myself if it meant I could piece together some shreds of my dignity. All I wanted was to slip into a warm bath where only the removable showerhead knew where I touched.

"Get out." Venom strengthened my words. It tasted an awful lot like desire. "Or get an attorney."

"Christ, I've had insurgents crack easier than you."

I quieted. He pulled away from me, chuckling as he crossed the kitchen. His trunks didn't fall low enough, and his perfectly muscular a.s.s hid from me. I wondered if he still had marks from where my fingernails dug in, trying to fit him deeper inside me.

I took my first deep breath. Mistake. The air filled with him. Sweat, salt, and dust. It certainly wasn't what Atlanta's Old Money smelled like.

"I have a proposition for you," he said.

"You've propositioned me enough, thank you."

Zach winked. "We can keep our clothes on for this."

Then why wasn't he wearing any yet? I couldn't think of any insults to lob at him while his pecs twitched as he inadvertently flexed.

"I understand this was a big shock," he said. "It was for me too. But we're both adults."

"What's your point?"

He leaned against the counter as if he belonged in the house. As if he already knew the name of the spikey fruit loaded in the baskets by the window or if the pizza oven was wood or charcoal.

If Zach could tell me where the nearest bathroom was, we'd be set.

"My point is, we can settle this in a minute flat," he said.

"Well, this I gotta hear."

"I propose we share the house."

"And you're done."

Zach prevented me from storming out. "Shay, listen. Let's temporarily share the house. I'm only on leave for a few more weeks. Let me crash in the lap of luxury before I get shipped back to some desert where there's more explosives and camels than..." He patted the granite countertop, though his eyes lingered on me. "Simple delights."

"That doesn't solve our problem. It just moves it to a different continent."

Zach's smirk faded, and he turned serious. An odd sincerity, but one I completely believed.

"I'm not looking for the easy way out or a get rich quick scheme. Never was. I'm a SEAL. That's my job. That's my life. I live to serve, and this..." He gestured around the mansion. "Is nothing but a fairy-tale while I wait for my next deployment. That's all."

I hesitated. "So...you want to live here for a few months. Then what?"

"Then you can buy out my share."

"Buy?"

"That's how these inheritance things work. You buy me out for a price that won't look like we're evading taxes, and we'll be done. Then you can have this big beautiful house all to yourself."

I crossed my arms. "And you want to live here while we figure all the details out."

"Yep."

"You don't see how crazy that is. I'm not sharing anything with you. I don't even know you! And this isn't your house!"

Zach's smile returned. He grabbed an apple from a basket and pointed over his shoulder.

"I'll be downstairs in the gym working out. Then I'll test the theater system with a movie. You're welcome to join me. Take some time to mull it over. Let me know what you think."

Easy. "I'm not sharing this house with you!"

He sunk his teeth into the apple and waved as he headed downstairs.

To the gym.

And then to the theater.

We had a theater?

No. I had a theater. And he thought he could steal it away until I paid him off to return what was rightfully mine?

h.e.l.l no.

Zach Harden wasn't getting away with this.

He wasn't getting a dime of my money, a single restful night's sleep in my house, or another side-long glance from me.

From that moment on, I declared war.

Except it wasn't a good idea to fight dirty with a SEAL. And I didn't trust myself to confront Zach again, not when everything inside me clenched hard and tight when I imagined him straining those muscles while lifting the weights.

Nope.

We couldn't live together.

I refused to bunk with the most desirable, infuriating, and despicable man I had ever met. My apartment near campus would be fine until we sorted the mess out. I'd go there, call William, and straighten the whole thing out.

Immediately.

Well, maybe tomorrow.

My apartment didn't have air-conditioning.

...And this mansion had a theater system.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to spend one night here even if Zach were around. Besides, how else would I keep track of the devil if he loitered under my roof?

I headed outside to explore the grounds, though I took a detour through one of the two wine cellars and grabbed something white, bubbly, and fruity. Dad had taste at least, but I'd need something much stronger to combat Zach Harden.

That fiend was never taking advantage of me again. And he'd be lucky if I let him camp in the corner of the property with a hole to sleep in, a can of soup to eat, and only the memory of me and what he lost to keep him warm.

No one made me a fool.

And Zach would learn that lesson.

Chapter Six Shay.

My father had more a.s.sets than I thought.

I knew he was wealthy, but now I saw the bank statements and investment reports and property listings. Dad was lucky the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future hadn't paid him a visit.

While Momma stewed in her declared independence and clipped coupons, Dad sailed away from his responsibilities on a yacht.

A yacht that also belonged to Zach.

He could take the part under the water.

My phone buzzed. Azariah was the last one I wanted to talk to. She expected a play-by-play of the magic night I told her about. My father's funeral wasn't the place or time to discuss my s.e.x life, especially around family who might be less than enthusiastic with my wild oats being of the...paler variety.

But at lot changed between my night with Zach and now. Azariah was the type to lend a sympathetic ear only until she thought she could live your life better.

At this point, she probably could. I answered the call anyway.

"How's my favorite millionaire?" Azariah tapped on her keyboard. Calling from work. Always the multi-tasker. "Hanging in there?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I said. "There's more money than we thought."

"More?" She screeched and tisked her tongue at someone who must have pa.s.sed her desk. She scolded him and then returned to me. "You, mind your business. Shay, I'm listening. How many more zeros are we talking?"

"Three?"

"d.a.m.n."

"Look, it's really complicated. I'm kinda in the middle of a giant freaking mess, and it's only getting worse because I can't fix much of it until I get the trust fund."

"That sucks. You have all the money in the world, and you can't touch it."

"Momma fought tooth, nail, and weave to make sure of it."

"I loved Kaydon to death, but I never understood her."

I scattered the investment reports on my desk. "She wanted me to learn independence. At least I had my car and school paid for."

"Lucky."

I knew it too. That didn't help the guilt. Because of Dad's money, I could do whatever I wanted in life. Which was good. I studied to be a teacher, and they weren't necessarily known for their stellar paychecks. But the salary hadn't mattered. My goal was to find a job somewhere, anywhere, and I'd teach kids more than letters and numbers. I'd make sure they never felt alone.

Ever.

But my textbooks were pushed onto the floor to make room for more boxes, and my student teaching schedule pinned over my desk. Moving to the mansion meant a long commute. Could I give that up just to stay close to my school? Hard choice. Until I made it, the books remained on the floor, and my apartment existed in a state of mess, half-way packed.

"So...?" Azariah clicked a pen. She'd probably draw some fantastic picture by the end of her shift. She hated the gig at the sales office, but it gave her time to sketch. I planned to buy her first piece of art for a ridiculous price to generate buzz for her name. It'd work, if she'd find the courage to push it into the world. "Tell me about the guy you met."

"It's...complicated."

"Is there anything about you that isn't complicated anymore?" She snorted. "You have all the money in the world. Cars, houses, mansions, and you got laid. You're living the dream."

Not quite. I sucked in a breath. "My father married Emily before they died."