Page 30 of Dirty Secret Love

“You have a closer bond with your brothers than you’d like to admit,” I observe.

His gaze intensifies. “Can we not talk about them? I was thinking that we could do some other things tonight.” With that, he slides closer, fingers tracing a path on the bedsheet toward my body.

Pushing the covers aside, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and stand, stretching languidly. “Here’s an activity for you: how about you feed me dinner?” Walking over to his luggage, I pull out one of his shirts, letting the fabric drape over my form as I button it up, casting a teasing glance back at him.

“But I’m only hungry for you, darling,” he murmurs, propping himself up on one elbow, the sheets tangled around his waist, emphasizing the V of his hips.

Drawing the shirt tighter around me, I throw him a wink. “We’ll get to that later. For now, I’m on a mission for food.” I stride out, my bare feet padding softly against the cold floor as I make my way to the kitchen.

It isn’t long before I feel his presence. Glancing over my shoulder, I catch River, now dressed only in snug-fitting jeans that hang low on his hips. The dim kitchen lighting showcases his sculpted, inked torso.

I can’t help but sneak a more appreciative gaze, biting my lower lip at the view. The intricate designs play over the defined planes of his chest, leading down to his chiseled abs. The sight is mouthwatering, and for a moment, my earlier proclamation about being ‘hungry’ takes on a whole new meaning.

Retrieving my phone, I quickly jot down a note. The ambiance, the feeling—it’s too delicious not to be written about.

“You’re on that phone again,” he observes, his deep voice laced with amusement. The muscles of his abdomen flex subtly with each step he takes. “You one of those who can’t live without it?”

Blushing, I admit, “No, it’s just . . . sometimes I need to jot down a thought or two.” My gaze roves over his frame once more, savoring the sight. The inked artwork on him makes the man even more irresistible, drawing me in like a moth to a flame.

“Uh-huh,” he says, skeptical, as he starts rifling through the kitchen cabinets, searching for something.

“It’s all true,” I protest, my voice a mix of indignation and mirth. “But while we’re on the subject, shouldn’t we swap numbers? You know, for . . . logistic purposes?” My gaze follows him as he navigates the kitchen, searching for food, making it all too evident that I have more than ‘logistics’ on my mind.

“You want to call me on my crappy flip-phone?” he quips, a smirk teasing the corners of his mouth. “That’s not going to be very sexy.”

He’s right, that might not be very sexy, but he is . . . so sexy I want to lick him. I shake my head, reminding myself that I have to eat, and that sex should be handled in moderation. If I have another round like the one we just had, I might not want to let him go, ever.

“You can text, right?” I inquire. Why does he even have such an outdated device? And how outdated is it? I need to search to see when texting started and also the make and model of that thing. Maybe it’s a relic from last century.

I wouldn’t be surprised if CQS just gave them the basics so they can communicate. I’m unfamiliar with their WITSEC program, but I know we have to make sure they don’t get ahold of any modern electronics. Hence, why the rotary phones at the ranch and the speed dial computers with password-protected codes in the library. Not that I’ll ever let them use those computers.

But it occurs to me that Drake has a better phone. “Drake has a smartphone. Why did you get the shitty one?”

He chuckles. “I wish I could tell you that’s because they fear I might do something stupid,” he answers.

I lean forward in surprise, “It’s not?”

“Nope. I got the scraps for being the baby,” he replies, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation.

“How about Elle? What did she end up with?” I ask, wondering if because she’s the youngest she got the crappiest of everything.

“I think she has a pager?”

“You’re kidding.” I retort, my eyes widening in mock shock.

He chuckles, leaning against the counter. “I really don’t know what she has. But in all honesty, I wouldn’t be surprised if she somehow snagged the best phone out of all of us.”

I tilt my head, genuinely curious. “Why would you say that?”

“Cal adores her, even when he pretends to be indifferent to our sisters. He’s harsher with Gen because she’s always snapping at him. Elle, though, she’s the baby, plus she’s a lot like Mom. All her stepchildren loved her, including Cal,” he says, a distant fondness in his eyes as he recalls the memory.

My heart hurts for the teenager who lost his mother, and the man who hasn’t grieved her loss. I wasn’t kidding when I said I wish I had met her. She sounds like an amazing woman.

“Your family dynamic sounds healthier than mine,” I admit, a pang of envy and sadness piercing my heart as memories of my family’s constant demands and cold shoulders flash through my mind.

He chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “If you’re suggesting your family is worse than mine, we should probably consider hiring a bodyguard. They might just kill us in our sleep.”

“You joke, but I’m right. My family and I don’t have great memories. If I need something, my siblings might make things harder so I fail. Your brothers are supportive of each other.”

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