Temptation (Club X #1)(41)
Author: K.M. Scott

“A Maserati GranTurismo. Wait until you see how it rides.”

We drove for about two hours in the most luxurious car I’d ever been in, and for the first time, we talked—really talked. Always guarded, Cash played his cards close to the vest, but I learned more about how Kane fit into the March brothers’ business and became an equal partner in Club X. I sensed Cash liked his half-brother more than his own brother and stayed away from any questions about Stefan, sure from my time working at the club that there was some bad blood between them. To be honest, I really didn’t want to ask because I didn’t want to find out the man I was falling for had done something terrible to his own flesh and blood. For at least the time being, I wanted to believe Cash was the great guy I’d built him up to be.

I also learned that Cash could be really funny when he let himself be. Not that I didn’t really like the man he was at work, but to see him smile and laugh instead of trying to be professional all the time made me even crazier about him.

We were so busy talking and having a good time that I didn’t realize where we’d driven to. When he finally stopped the car in front of a beachside house, I stared out in confusion. A whitewashed cottage didn’t seem like his style.

“Is this yours?”

A slow smile spread across his lips. “Yeah.”

“It doesn’t seem like you. I guess I just associate you with the only other places I’ve seen you in. You know, your office and condo are clean, minimalist. This seems very…quaint.”

“It is. It was my father’s and it transferred to me when he died.”

“Oh. I didn’t mean to…” Leave it to me to make a comment on something that brought up a dead relative. Smooth.

He gave me a gentle smile to let me know my comment hadn’t ruined anything. “It’s okay. Let’s go in.”

The inside of the cottage looked nothing like I’d expected it to. I’d assumed the beachy exterior would lead to a place with lots of white wood, seashells, and wicker, but I couldn’t have been more mistaken. While the house may have been that quaint cottage at one time, Cash’s style had very much been imprinted on the design and instead of feeling like I stood mere feet away from the beach, it felt like I was back in his condo.

“It’s not much, but I like to use it to get away sometimes,” he explained as he headed toward the kitchen.

I heard his keys land on the granite countertop as I looked around at yet another place Cassian March owned. Sleek lines, expensive furnishings, and what I suspected were fine pieces of art filled out the cream and black rooms. Turning toward the kitchen, I saw him pouring us drinks. “Again with the understatement. I think this place is a lot more than not much.”

“Come. Have a drink. That was a long ride.”

Even now, dressed so casually and standing there in this beach cottage, Cash took up all the space in the room and made me feel slightly out of place in my work clothes that made me seem more like his secretary than his lover or girlfriend, whichever I was. I took the glass he offered and watched him lift his in a toast.

“To always being surprised, Olivia.”

He downed a healthy gulp of whiskey while I inhaled the strong smell, afraid if I drank even a little without eating that I’d lose my head. “I’m not a big fan of surprises, to be honest.”

Lifting his glass again, he smiled in a way that made my core clench in need. “Then to me changing your mind.”

Something about him had changed. It may have been almost imperceptible, but he wasn’t the person who’d smiled and laughed with me as we drove there. Had I done something? I didn’t know. All I knew was Cash had reverted back to that man he’d usually been around me—cool and sexy, but closed off just enough to keep me at arm’s length.

Chapter Fifteen

Cassian

I slowly opened my eyes, vaguely aware that someone lay next to me. But that was impossible. I never spent the entire night with anyone. Not for a long time anyway. My eyes fully open, I looked over to my right and saw a flash of red hair against the white pillowcase next to mine.

Olivia.

What the fuck was I doing? Instead of keeping my distance like I’d planned, I’d ended up sleeping with her not once but twice. Then instead of keeping her at arm’s length, I’d been foolish enough to bring her here on some kind of mini-vacation, like we were goddamned dating. This couldn’t happen, so why was I being so stupid?

It’s not that I didn’t want to be with her. I just couldn’t. Period. Everything I was, everything I’d done in my life made it so. Why my cock and his brand new best friend my heart were having a hard time dealing with that fact escaped me. So now those two had entirely disregarded what my brain had been saying since the day she walked into my life and we’d all ended up at the beach house on Gasparilla Island like she and I were some couple in love who wanted to get away from it all.

Just one problem. There was no getting away from who I was or all the shittiness I brought into this thing between us, whatever it was.

She was so close, though. I wanted to reach out and run my fingertips over her skin to remember how she’d felt in my arms just hours before. I wanted to be the man who’d thought it was such a grand idea to bring her here instead of the man I really was.

Closing my eyes, I worked to push all that from my mind. I couldn’t change the past or what that past had made me, no matter how much I wanted to. I didn’t want to let her go, though. It was selfish and thoughtless, but I wanted the kind of sweetness she gave my life. That I didn’t deserve an ounce of it didn’t change the fact that I didn’t want to let her go.

She rolled over and looked at me with a cute, sleepy look. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know. Sun’s up, but I don’t think it’s too late.”

Pushing the hair out of her eyes, she smiled shyly. “I’d have thought you’d be an eye on your watch kind of guy.”

Smiling, I wondered why I wasn’t at that moment. My watch sat on the nightstand, but I didn’t want to know what time it was. I didn’t want to think about anything but lying there with her, no matter how wrong that was.

“I usually am. I guess this place just has that kind of effect on me,” I lied.

Propping her head up on one hand, she asked, “Do you come here a lot?”

I shook my head, trying to remember when I’d last slept in this bed with a woman. Suddenly, the memory of that last time flooded my mind. Exactly one week before Rachel and I separated. “No, not really,” I lied again.