Page 24 of August 20

Brooke's gaze wildly fought with his. He wasn't going to let her get physical with him.

She clamped her mouth shut and screamed in frustration, beating her hands against his shoulders. Her fist connected with his throat. He grabbed her wrist and pinned it above her head, then found her other hand and raised her arm until he held her prisoner.

The position thrust her breasts higher against his chest. He dropped his gaze to the swell of the mounds, rising and falling as she struggled under his hold.

Her rapid breathing caressed the base of his neck. The end of his spine vibrated, aware that the look in her eyes wasn't fear. He pressed his body against her, knowing he had to be wrong.

She couldn't look at him that way. She wasn't part of the picture.

Fuck.

She was a beautiful woman. But he had something more important to do.

He couldn't get involved. He couldn't take what he wanted.

He had a little girl who depended on him—hell, Skye wouldn't even know what he was doing for her until she was older, and then she'd be glad he fought for her.

"Get away from me," he whispered painfully.

Her gaze darted back and forth between his eyes. Left, right, left, right.

His chest pounded. His cock pulsed, growing harder the longer she remained indifferent, judging if she should run or stay.

He put his lips to her ear, inhaling deeply. The intoxicating scent of her shampoo still lingered in her hair.

The longer she hesitated, the bigger the chance he'd talk himself out of doing the right thing, and he'd spread her legs where she stood.

"Go." He hissed, letting go of her hands.

She slid out from underneath his arm and hurried away. Once she was out of sight, he lowered his arms and grabbed his cock, rearranging it in his jeans, trying to ease the pressure.

Click.

She'd hidden behind a closed door, safe from him for the rest of the night. He sat on the couch and ran his hands over his face. He'd kept Brooke around too long.

Tomorrow, everything was going to change. He couldn't live with her any longer, or he was going to end up fucking her.

Killing Brooke was off the table. He needed to go to plan B.

Chapter Thirteen

"Aunt Brooke?"

She wrapped the towel around her and walked out of the shower. "What, honey?"

Skye tugged on the brush caught in her hair. "Can you get the snarl out?"

"Mm-hm." She stepped over to the bathroom counter, turned Skye toward the mirror, and attempted to see what kind of mess she had to deal with. "Did you spray the leave-in conditioner in your hair."

"No."

"Well, there's the problem." She grabbed the purple bottle and sprayed the strands.

"Can we go to the beach today?"

She gritted her teeth. It was the same question almost every morning. Skye loved running in the sand.

After slapping Maverick in the middle of the night when he'd come home after leaving them with some stranger, she had a feeling there would be no more outings. There was a tension growing in the house. An awareness. Something had to give.

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