Dirty Secret (The Burke Brothers #1)(29)
Author: Emma Hart

It was dumb as fuck in the first place. I know Sofie and Kye don’t have anything going on. Hell, he’s told me more than once that he only sees her as his sister. I can’t imagine her feeling anything for him, either.

Shit, if she really feels for me like she says, then she can’t feel anything for anyone else.

Truth is, I can’t believe her when she says she loves me. If she left once, she can leave again. If she can lie to me once, she can lie again. There’s the bottom line—I love her but I don’t trust her. I don’t trust her not to run and take Mila with her.

I don’t trust her to not take everything from me again. Because she was my everything. She was every beat of my heart and every breath I took. Maybe we’d never have lasted forever, but we were in the moment, and that’s what matters.

Now we’re stuck in a fucked-up limbo.

We want each other, and we love each other, but neither of us wants to. That ain’t a basis for any kind of relationship, not even friendship. I’m a fucking idiot for thinking we could stay in the same house and make it work.

You can’t be friends with someone you’re completely in love with.

It’s a catch-22, because leaving will expose everything to the media, yet staying will fuck us all up. Staying will hurt Mila, but so will leaving. There’s no way to win at this. Either way we’ll all lose.

“Sand?” Mila asks, pushing her toast away. “Sand sand sand!”

“Eat some more toast first.” I nudge it back to her. She pouts, but I shake my head. “Two pieces.”

She huffs in that adorable way and grabs a square. The stairs creak and Sofie walks in, her hair shoved in a messy twist on the top of her head, and a pair of tiny sleep shorts barely skimming the tops of her thighs.

“Mornin’, baby,” she mutters, kissing the top of Mila’s head. Mila squeals in delight, her mouth opening to reveal half-chewed toast. Nice.

I watch Sofie as she trots into the kitchen mumbling to herself about “freakin’ Burkes and freakin’ Jack.” She yanks open a drawer, shakes two pills from a bottle, and pours a glass of water. She throws the pills back and drinks all the water before slamming the glass on the side table.

“Morning.”

She casts an annoyed glance my way and ignores me. She reaches into the cupboard to get down the loaf of bread, causing her shorts to rise up.

My eyes drop. The curve of her ass is clear, no longer hidden by the bright pink material. And there’s lace, black lace, peeking out against her tanned skin.

Fuck. I shift in my seat and adjust my pants.

There’s a bang as Sofie pulls down the toaster lever. I snap my eyes up to her face. Man, she’s pissed. Real pissed.

Her brow is furrowed and her lips are pulled into a tight line. It’s her eyes, though. Damn, those eyes. Narrowed but blazing, they glare at me. Cut right through me.

“Narns?” Mila asks. “My narns.”

I move to look at her so quick a sharp pain shoots down my neck. “Narns?”

“Top of the fridge,” Sofie says sharply. “Banana.”

“Toddler-speak is impossible,” I grumble, standing. How the hell does “narns” denote banana? Oh, that’s right, it doesn’t. Nana? Yep. Narns? What the hell?

Sofie yanks the fridge door open, standing right in front of me.

“Excuse me.”

She glares at me and reaches to the back to grab the butter. Since she’s short and the fridge is huge, it makes her shorts ride up again. My dick throbs and my hand twitches with the urge to reach forward and run my fingers across her soft skin.

I grab her waist and yank her back into me. My dick pushes into her lower back almost painfully. She gasps, and I lower my mouth to her ear.

“Another line,” I whisper. “Put your ass away.”

“You shouldn’t be lookin’,” she grinds out.

I pull her back and slide my hand around her stomach, splaying my fingers. They brush the waistband of her shorts, and she clenches under my touch.

“You shouldn’t be giving me anythin’ to look at, princess. If they don’t cover your ass when you reach up, you ain’t wearin’ ’em.” My voice is gruff and heavy.

I wanna slam that goddamn fridge door, push her against it, and kiss her hard. I wanna slide my hands down the back of those dumbass shorts and cup her ass cheeks, pulling her into me. I wanna feel her melt into me, grasp at my hair, whimper into my mouth.

“Make me stop,” she bites back in an attempt to deny the quick rising and falling of her chest. It fails, because her words are more breathy than annoyed, and the soft gasp on the end of the word “stop” heads straight down to my pants. Along with the rest of my blood supply.

“I wouldn’t say that, or you’ll find them on your bedroom floor.”

She drops the butter on the counter and tugs my arms away from her. “Fuck you,” she whispers harshly. “Fuck you so much.”

I grab a banana for Mila and walk past Sofie, leaving her clasping her trembling hands to her stomach. I unpeel it and break it into two pieces, dropping them on the tray, then turn and head upstairs.

“Get some damn pants on,” I snap, my dick painful now.

She doesn’t respond, and I take the stairs two at a time. I grab a towel from the closet and lock myself in the bathroom. My eyes fall straight to the neat pile of clothes folded next to the sink.

The bright red lace panties on top.

Shit. She obviously planned on showering before me.

I strip and step into the cubicle. I turn the water on, letting the heat run over me, before turning my front into the water and the knob down to freezing. I step fully under the spray, letting the ice-cold water beat down on me until I can’t take it anymore.

It hasn’t helped my raging hard-on at all, but I’m sure as hell not going to stand here in the shower and get myself off. Because I’m mad at her again, and I’m definitely not coming to anger.

I scrub myself quickly with some soap, rinse, and get out. I grab the towel next to her clothes, averting my eyes from her underwear, and wrap it around my waist.

She’s standing outside when I open the door, her eyes wide.

“Next time, put your underwear under your fuckin’ clothes, not on top.” I walk around her and into Ste’s room. I dry off quickly and get dressed. At least my erection has finally fucking calmed down.

It would be easier to just leave. But then I’d have to come back every morning and leave every night, and that would be too risky. All it would take is a reporter getting one glimpse of me and following me, then the media would set up camp here.