Page 4 of If You Could Only Imagine
Our father had been a ruthless bastard, and he did not use kid gloves with any of us. He had raised us to be warriors and conquerors. And that’s what we were.
But, now, standing in Denise Hart’s office, I wanted to use my last name and connections to lock her door, rip her clothes off and fuck her on every surface of the room.
She was positively stunning, but that’s not what had me risking my good name and reputation. Nope. It was the feeling she invoked when she placed her delicate, feminine hand in mine. I could swear a bolt of lightning traveled throughout my body at the contact.
I had felt nothing like it in all my life.
And let me tell you, I’ve had some of the most beautiful women around, naked and underneath me, and even in their full naked glory, none of them ever made me feel a fraction of what this one innocent touch had. If this is what Mason felt every time he touched Shane, no wonder he had been willing to walk away from everything he’d ever known to be with her.
We had grown up with a bastard of a father and he ruled with an iron fist. His sons were to be nothing less than perfect, but he fucked up big time. He raised us to be too strong, and it backfired when Mason fell in love with Shane and Dad tried to come between them.
Mason was the oldest. He was only a year older than me, but you could tell he was the oldest. Mason carried himself like a goddamn Admiral and everyone could see and sense his determination. Even if Mason hadn’t been the oldest, he was the perfect one to take over Dad’s spot. Mason had the ability to juggle anything that came at him. He had a photographic memory and he could multi-task like a sonofabitch and he rarely panicked. Mason was a true leader.
His only downfall was that he failed to connect with people. He lacked empathy and showed almost no sympathy towards anyone who wasn’t Shane, me, Michael or Gabriel. He was coming around with our mother, but she would still never fall into Mason’s personal fold. Our father abused us for too long and our Mother’s neglect had taken its toll years ago.
Gabriel was the oldest twin by three minutes and his strength was his ability to read people. Gabriel intuition could land him his own psychic network if he so chose to. He could spend mere minutes with someone and tell you if they were full of shit or not.
His only downside was his loyalty. Now, most people would view that as a positive, but loyalty was dangerous when you had a brother so loyal, he’d kill for you, no questions asked.
Now, Michael…Michael was the baby and had been treated the worst out of all of us. I never knew why my father was so harsh with Michael, but he was. And that abuse created a man who could stay calm in the eye of any storm. Michael had the ability to think and act rationally during a crisis. He eluded confidence, protection and security during times of chaos.
His only problem? Michael never lost his temper, but when he did…he was violent and frighteningly so. I think it’s one of the reasons he held on to his control like a lifeline. If Michael called me one night and told me he murdered someone, I wouldn’t blink an eye. I’d know it to be the truth.
As for me, I could calculate in my head. Numbers, situations, whatever…I could move the pieces around in my head and find their solutions. That gift made me perfect for the finance department of BI. Once Gabe and Mike graduate from college, Gabe’s going to head the marketing department, while Michael is going to head personnel.
But, right now, doing my best not to eye-rape Ms. Hart, I wondered if at just how well the guys would get along without me.
Because Denise Hart looked like she was worth the risk.
She was a short, little thing with the most stunning hazel eyes. Her dark brown hair hung around her jawline in soft ringlets that announced her heritage if the delicious caramel hue of her skin didn’t. Denise looked to be a mix of Caucasian and African-American and the blend was perfect. She had rosy looking lips and soft cheekbones that were all woman.
Her outfit-though professional and appropriate-did nothing to hide a hell of a rack, her small waist, rounded thighs and thick hips.
Now, my downside…I have always been a lover of women. I think they are God’s most magnificent creation and their differences from man have always fascinated and weakened me. And when I say I love women, I mean I loveallwomen in all their forms. Tall, short, slim, thick, any skin color, any nationality…I fuckinglovewomen. They are absolutely beautiful.
And, as a man who truly appreciates the female form, Ms. Hart’s body was a combination of everything that made a woman perfect in my eyes.
I willed my dick to go down and spoke, “I’ve heard many great things about you Ms. Hart.” She smiled, and I almost turned her around, bent her over her desk and mated with her, right there and then.
“Thank you, Mr. Buch-”
“Aiden, please,” I allowed, because…well, hell, I wanted her used to saying it so she wouldn’t have to think twice when she was screaming it, all sweaty and under me later.
Of course, that was wishful thinking…but I believed that wishes could come true.
“Aiden,” she repeated, and I could feel my heart speed up in beats. This fucking woman was going to give me a heart attack from just saying my goddamnname.
Holy fuck. I was so screwed.
She finally took her hand back and in that moment we both realized the significance of how long we held on to one another after the initial contact.
Fuck.
Okay, so I can play this one, of two ways. I can ignore the motion and act like it didn’t happen, and it wasn’t completely inappropriate, or I can walk over, shut her door and fuck her over her desk, condom be damned. Because her touch felt likeeverythingwas worth the risk to have her.
I was this close-count it-thisclose to acting like it didn’t happen, but then she looked up at me through her lashes, her cheeks a faint rose and her hazel eyesknowing,and I stormed over, shut her door and locked it.
I rounded her desk, and I did not give a fuck how insane this was.
