Page 48

“I’m trying to picture you causing trouble.”

“You’re assuming Sebastian was responsible for all of it.”

“He wasn’t?”

Ross gives me a look over his shoulder. “Not all of it.”

That image stays with me as we continue farther in: Ross as a boy, disappearing into the walls of this enormous house with his twin, escaping the weight of everything that waited for him outside them.

The passage opens into a small unused room tucked between two sections of the estate. There is an old built-in bench beneath a narrow window, a cabinet along one wall, and little else.

I turn toward him. “This is what you wanted to show me?”

Ross closes the door behind us. The click of the latch changes the room immediately. I look at him. He looks back.

“You said the last one was too short,” he says.

I smile. “So this is customer service?”

“Something like that.”

He crosses the room and catches my waist before I can answer. The kiss starts almost playfully, familiar now in a way it could not have been a few weeks ago. I know how he holds me. He knows exactly how I respond when his hand slides beneath my hair and settles at the back of my neck.

I pull him closer by his tie. Ross makes a low sound against my mouth and backs me toward the wall. The warmth between us changes quickly.

His hands move over my waist with more confidence now, and mine are already beneath his jacket, finding the solid line of his body through his shirt. There is no uncertainty left between us, only the challenge of remembering where we are and how little time we probably have.

Ross breaks the kiss long enough to look at me.

“You’re supposed to be on a break,” he says.

“So are you.”

“I’m not.”

I smile. “Even worse.”

He kisses me again before I can say anything else. This time, it deepens immediately. My back meets the wall, and Ross steps between my legs as I hook one arm around his neck and pull him closer. His hand slides down my hip, then along my thigh, lifting the hem of my skirt just enough to make my pussy tingle.

His palm cups me through my panties. He rubs slow circles until the lace turns damp beneath his fingers, and I feel him smile against my mouth.

“All morning?” he asks.

I don’t answer. I don’t have to.

He pushes the lace aside and slides two fingers into me, deep, in one stroke. I gasp, too loud, and footsteps sound in the corridor beyond the door. Heels on marble. A voice, calling for someone.

Ross doesn’t stop. He clamps his free hand over my mouth and keeps working his fingers inside me, slow and curling, his eyes locked on mine while the footsteps pass within feet of the door.

“Quiet,” he breathes against my ear. “Unless you want them to find you like this.”

I clench around his fingers. He feels it, and his mouth curves.

The footsteps fade. He takes his hand from my mouth and drops to his knees.

He hooks my panties and drags them down my legs. I step out of them. He doesn’t toss them aside. He tucks them into his trouser pocket and looks up at me.

“Hold your skirt up.”