games, tell him my stories, hear all of his. And I want to go to bed with him very soon.
“Also, don’t feel bad,” I add. “You’re a fantastic competitor. Losing doesn’t change that.”
“I haven’t lost yet, woman,” he growls, all tough and broody.
“But you will. Oh, mark my words, West Byron, you will.”
“You and my sister,” he mutters.
“Aww. Did Abby school you in Monopoly, too?”
“She absolutely did. She was ferocious, made me play for hours.” He says it with a huff, but it’s clear he loved every second of those games.
“And you couldn’t resist her. You always said yes to your little sister, I bet.”
He simply shrugs and smiles. “What can I say? She had me wrapped around her little finger. I’d give her the world if I could.”
My heart thunders.
I remember what my gram used to say to Harrison when we were growing up. “You can tell the measure of a man by how he treats his sister. That’s how he’ll treat his partner.”
The way West is with Abby—the things he does for her, how he prioritizes her—tugs on my heart so much. Makes me want to take my heart out of the gilded cage that I’ve kept it in lately and offer it to him, let him care for it.
I cover my heart with my hand, my throat tightening. “I love that you love your sister so much. That you look out for her, and that you always did,” I blurt out.
West laughs, but then it fades as he tilts his head, locking his eyes with mine. “You do?”
“Yeah, I do. I think it’s wonderful. I’ve known men who don’t talk to their families or their sisters at all. Or who are just flat-out mean or disrespectful. But the way you are is really wonderful.”
“It’s the only way to be.” He brushes a lock of hair from my cheek, even though I don’t think my hair is out of place. “And I love that you’re such a people person, Gigi,” he says, his rich, warm voice like honey.
“Good. Because I can’t help it.” I laugh, casting my eyes down.
Tucking a finger under my chin, he raises my face. “It’s wildly endearing. The way you think about others. How you care about strangers and family and friends. Even people you haven’t met, like my sister. It’s so…” It almost seems like he’s going to say sexy, but he stops himself, and takes his time with the next word. “Beautiful.”
My heart thumps against my chest, emotions welling. “West, what you said earlier on the street? About games?”
“Yes?”
I steady myself to strip bare in a way that scares me so much more than actual stripping. “I don’t want to play games, either. I’m glad you don’t like that stuff.”
“I don’t. At all. I like honesty, even when it’s hard.”
“So do I.” My pulse spikes. I am caught in his orbit, and I don’t want to be anywhere else. “Also, I forfeit.”
“You don’t want to finish the game?” he asks, bending closer to me on the couch, dusting his lips across my cheek.
I swear this wasn’t supposed to happen. I met him and planned to sleep with him, and that was all. But now, just a few days later, I’m swimming in a sea of feelings.
There’s only one solution.
Keep going.
I tug him up from the couch, my hand in his. “The ladder.”
His dark eyes shine with dirty deeds. “Perfect location.”
19
West
I begin my confession as I undress her. First, I slide the straps of her red and white polka-dot dress over her shoulders, down her arms. “Since the first night I met you, I’ve wanted to have you here.”
“On your ladder?” She reaches for the hem of my navy-blue polo shirt.
I bury my face in her neck, inhaling her flower-and-sweet-spice scent, letting it flood my senses.
“Yes. And my tub, and my couch, and my pool table.”
“Sounds like a game of Clue—Gigi, in the library, with your cock,” she says with a light laugh, and I love that she can be passionate and funny in the same moment.
I return to removing every item of clothing from her gorgeous body.
Down goes the bodice, off goes the skirt, then the shoes, until she wears only her lacy underthings—a pretty pink bra that boosts those lush breasts, and matching knickers that I bet are as soaked as I am hard.
But arousal is not all I see on Gigi.
That’s just the surface. A surface I adore. But I’m adoring too, what’s inside her. What’s under her skin, in