Page 40 of Forbidden Vows

And…I’ve never known him to lie…

I have known him to be a man. Sometimes men can get confused. They think they want the wifey-material good girl, but what they desire is a catwalk model who can perform sexy tricks in bed.

Like Candy. Barf.

“Gawd!” I hang the scrubby back up on a hook. “Do men torture themselves like this?”

Ruining a spa-like shower experience by obsessing over everything the women in their lives have ever said anddone? Judging themselves? Thinking of every way they don’t measure up?

No, I don’t think they do. They probably masturbate and rinse off.

I dry off, fine tuning my wording for the rules I need to suggest to Blaze.

When I emerge from the bathroom, a massive fluffy blue bath sheet covering me from under my arms to mid-calf, I find a sexily tousled hair Blaze, black sweatpants hanging low on his hipbones—still shirtless, does this man ever wear a shirt?—sitting on the guest bed, flipping through his phone, waiting for me.

Instead of giving him my speech, I’m momentarily frozen by his easy beauty, overwhelmed by the fact that It’s my stepbrother sitting on the bed. The one I had sex with last night. And he stuck his finger in my?—

“Hey lil’ sis.”

“Please stop calling me that.” I run a hand over my towel-covered hair. The hobbit in her terry cloth robe.

“Sorry about the mess in here. We’re still under construction.” He stands, slipping his phone into his pocket and stretching, showing off the full plane of his abs before sauntering to me. He leans in, brushing his lips over my cheek in a light kiss that leaves my skin tingling, then whispers against my ear. “How’s that magical pussy of yours this morning?”

He moves away before I can chide him, meandering across the room. He heads over to the double doors of the closet. “I hope you don’t mind. I took some liberties with your wardrobe.”

Curious, I pad across the lush carpet to join him. “My wardrobe?”

“You’re going to be here a while,” he says. “You'll need more clothes than you threw in your bag the other night.” He flings the doors open, both at once.

And I just stare, taking in the rows of clothing hanging in front of me. “This is all for me?”

“The dressy stuff we hung up.” He opens a drawer of a dresser. “And there’s casual stuff in here.”

I lift a pair of black leggings from the drawer; the material feels silky between my fingers. I recognize the brand as one I could never afford. To go with the leggings, I choose a soft bra, cropped top, and slouchy off-the-shoulder sweatshirt.

I find myself wanting to look good for him. Comfy yet a bit sexy?

“Thank you. These clothes are amazing. I can’t wait to try them on.” I cuddle the soft pile of clothing to my towel-covered chest. Just holding the luxury goods makes me feel warm inside. “Who helped you with the shopping?”

“The Beauties. They’re always buzzing around here, trying to feed me. I finally had something I needed help with, and they were more than eager to lend a hand.”

“Who are the Beauties?” I ask.

“The wives of the Bachman men.” He arches a brow. “You already know a bit about them from last night,” he says.

“Right.” I take a step back from him and his naked torso.

“There are only two ways into this family,” he says. “If you’re a man, a grueling initiation and signing your soul over to the cause. If you’re a woman, marrying a catch like me.” Cue the cocky grin.

Darn, he’s cute.

“The Beauties love to take the bachelors under their wings,” he explains. “Matchmaking. Emilia is the ringleader here. Ophelia, my sister-in-law, you’ll love her; she helped with the stuff in the shower.”

“She did well. It was the best shower of my life!” Well, minus the part where I was torturing myself over worry and doubts.

His brow furrows deeply, his face going serious. “And did you have enough of those pillows and sticks?”

Huh? “Pillows and sticks?”

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