“Yes,” I agreed. “Now, f**k me eight ways to Sunday.”

“Yes, Ms. Fairmont,” he drawled, yanking down my panties with one firm hand. “With pleasure.”

Chapter 48

I know you don’t understand. I know you hate me. But you will soon find out Brant’s secret. I can’t keep it hidden. It won’t stay quiet, is screaming silently until the plug is pulled and its howl will fill the air. And once you find out, you will understand. You would have done the same thing.

I’d spent almost two years on Lee. Breaking into his life. Removing all obstacles. Making him fall in love with me, forcing that love to squeeze from his pores and envelop his heart.

I had succeeded. I had him fully in my hands. The only issue was, I didn’t know what to do with him at that point.

You could only control, manipulate, a man so much before your leash of control broke. Especially a man like Lee. A man who grabbed at everything he could and wanted more. I could feel the twinge of my leash. The crackle of weakening threads as he pulled hard against my ties. Hard in the direction of Brant. His hatred for him grew the more Lee felt for me.

Jillian was right. I was playing a dangerous game. And risking everything for my own selfish goal.

Chapter 49

2 MONTHS AGO

The oceanfront guesthouse became our f**k den, far enough from the main house to be our own oasis. Sometimes Lee visited twice a week, sometimes twice a month, his appearance as sporadic as the sun. Lee’s stress at getting through the guards subsided the fifth or sixth time he pulled through our gates without a moment’s hesitation on their part, a friendly nod the only indicator of his presence.

“Your guards suck.”

“What do you mean?” I craned my neck back, my head in his lap, meeting his perturbed gaze.

“I could be killing you in here.”

I laughed. “Then I’d have been dead months ago.” I flipped the channel. Found ESPN and stopped. I’d watched more sports in the last year than I had my entire life. Brant read and invented in his free time, while Lee watched mindless games that had no impact on anyone’s life.

“I’m serious. What’s the point of having guards if they just smile and wave at anyone who pulls in?”

“I told you, they know who you are.”

“Which is what? Your f**k buddy?” The bitter tone in his voice gave me pause. I muted the TV and turned, rolling onto my side and looking up into his face.

“I’m not intimate friends with them, Lee. I told them to always let you in. Isn’t that good enough?”

“Why aren’t they loyal to Brant? He’s the one who pays their salary. Pays everyone’s bills in this place. And where the f**k is he?” This was angry Lee. Moody, gets pissed off at anything and everything Lee. My least favorite version of him, a side effect of a passionate man. Brant never got mad. “I’ve been over here ten times, and he’s never been home. Does he even live here?”

“You know he does.” I dropped my head back, stared at the ceiling and wondered how I got myself in these situations. How many more impossible questions Lee would have for me today. “Remember? That was a fight in itself.” I’ve fought with this man ten times more than I’ve ever fought with Brant.

“Rich f**k.” He shoved me off his lap as he stood, my body falling from the couch, a hand catching me as I flipped up my head and glared at Lee. He paced to the window, hands on his hips, the pose accentuating every cut of his bare upper half. “I swear Lana, you better hope I don’t ever run into him… you send me down here like some f**king pool boy while he f**ks you up there in that mansion—”

“You hate the main house. That’s why we come down here.”

“Has he f**ked you down here?” He turned abruptly, the light dimming in the house as the sun moved lower. Stared at me with eyes full of hatred and hurt.

“Please stop saying f**k,” I whispered.

“Has he f**ked your sweet little cunt in this house?” He stepped closer, emphasizing every word, his voice a snarl as it finished, his hands dragging me to my feet and lifting hard on my waist, his grip so hard it hurt, the lift carrying me to the granite island counter, where he deposited me, his hands pushing open my legs, his body taking its place between them.

“No.” His hand captured my face when my answer came out, gripping me hard, his mouth following suit, crashing down on my lips with a neediness that ached.

“Promise me.” His other hand came hard on my ass, dragging me forward, to the edge of the counter ‘til he held me fully against him, the soft material of his shorts doing nothing to disguise his arousal. I hated the way he could do this. His need instantly turned me into a raw cavern of want.

“He hasn’t,” I gasped. “Please, I need…” I clawed at him, wrapped my legs around him, pulling at his neck to bring his mouth back to mine.

“Tell me.”

My hands fumbled at the top of his shorts. Reached inside and gripped him, his hold tightening on me the moment I had him fully in my hand. “This.”

“You know what I think you need?” He pushed into my hand. “Is to be bad.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I swallowed a mouthful of lust. “Then make me bad.”

“I’ll make you worse.”

Then he f**ked me. Right there on the counter. And I screamed my orgasm against the waves and the gulls and the wind. And forty-two stories above us, the colossal mansion on the cliff was silent and empty.