He’d been there, done that with Heather, and he’d love to burn his souvenir T-shirt, but his memories wouldn’t let him. Instead, he hung it in his mental closet, determined not to f**k up again.
“Some ass**le with a knife wanted to demonstrate his Zorro impression using my ribs. Twelve stitches and a tetanus shot later, I’m good as new.”
“You and Dad are in a dangerous business.”
“Beats the hell out of sitting behind a desk.”
“Depends on your perspective, but I know you men of action always need some ass to kick.”
Deke couldn’t help the smile tugging across his mouth. “Damn straight.” A few steps later, he shoved a door open to reveal a smallish bedroom with white walls. It held a double bed, a chair, a reading lamp, and a desk with a laptop. It would never win interior design awards, but it worked for him.
“This is your room.” It wasn’t a guess; she knew it.
“Yep.”
“It looks like you.”
“Dull?” he baited.
“Hardly.” She laughed. “I could call you a lot of things, but never dull.” The slightly breathy pitch of her voice was still going straight to his cock. He’d never been much for peaches, but right now the smell of her was rushing all his blood south. Damn, Luc always made dinner with company a grand affair. How the hell would he make it through the whole meal without throwing Kimber up on the table and eating her instead?
“It’s functional, clean, uncomplicated. You’d appreciate those qualities.” Oh, shit. She’d guessed a lot about him when he wasn’t looking. That dangerous feeling of wanting to kiss her returned, along with an urge to hold her close just for the pleasure of feeling her against him. Bad. Stupid. Wrong. Not happening. He’d taste her sweet kiss before he f**ked her ass, but affection—out of the question.
Kimber would take it the wrong way. Hell, he might, too.
“Exactly,” he murmured and shut the door. Across the hall, he eased open the door to Luc’s office.
With its deep burgundy walls and dark woods, etched glass and brass accents, it resembled an elegant gentleman’s establishment of old—but with a cutting-edge desktop, speaker phone, and a printer/scanner/fax machine. A tobacco-colored desk chair in leather presided over a masculine walnut desk and bookshelves, inlaid with lighter woods on the top and sides with something Luc had called a medallion.
“Wow,” Kimber breathed. “This is gorgeous. Luc has wonderful taste.” Why did women always say that? Normally, men with “wonderful taste” were g*y, but he knew firsthand that Luc was as straight as he was.
For the first time in ages—no, ever—Deke regretted Luc’s heterosexuality. If not for that and his interest in Kimber, Deke might find a way to have her all to himself, legs spread from one end of the bed to the other while he alone climbed between them and f**ked her.
No! In all the ways that mattered, she was his worst memory come back to life.
Not that she actually was Heather, but…close enough. Like he had for the past twelve years, since that terrible summer, he was going to share the woman and just be happy for the great sex.
“Luc enjoys decorating and cooking and shit.”
“He’s wonderful.” Her hazel eyes lit up as they traveled the room.
Deke shoved aside a prickle of irritation. Luc was damn good with cooking and decorating, so of course, she was going to be impressed. But she’d come here for sex, and he vowed that when it came to that, he’d impress the hell out of her.
Pivoting, he exited the office and made his way to the end of the hall. He shoved the door open and tossed her duffle bag in.
“This is Luc’s room.”
Spacious, an eclectic blend of modern and Tuscan, technology and Old World.
Taupes, olives, and gold with a splash of red, along with a cozy king-sized bed, invited women to come in and get…comfortable. It bothered him like hell that Kimber wouldn’t be the exception.
She glanced at her bag on the floor of Luc’s room, then at his bed. “I’ll be staying here?”
Deke swallowed and tried not to picture Kimber naked on Luc’s bed, tried not to picture the two of them alone sleeping, touching, f**king, while a few walls separated him. The thought charged a violent surge of fury all the way to his fists.
He clenched them to keep still.
Kimber sleeping with Luc…it was better this way. Less temptation. Luc slept like the dead most nights. Deke didn’t have that luxury. And if he wasn’t lying right next to the woman who’d most revved his libido in the last decade when the next sleepless midnight rolled around, he couldn’t caress her silken skin, whisper naughty suggestions to her, and sweet-talk his way into her pu**y. And he’d want to. Hell, he wanted to now.