But Brooke’s eyes—they watched you from the wall. Every guy fantasized that Brooke was looking at him, smiling for him, her nipples hardening and poking through that blue spandex for him. The camera loved Brooke Bailey. She must have made a mint on that poster. So why had Jade had such a modest childhood?

I gazed at her.

And then I saw it.

Jade had Brooke’s eyes—that steely blue-gray that seemed to penetrate through every layer of a person.

That’s what had first drawn me to Jade—those eyes. I felt naked, like she could see right through me, into the very recesses of my broken soul. It scared the hell out of me.

So why did I want her so much? I hadn’t been able to get that kiss out of my mind. Her lips were so full, so red, and she tasted like champagne and strawberries. I had never tasted anything when I kissed a woman. Something about the kiss with Jade had been different, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. All I knew was that I desired her.

In my bed.

She was my sister’s best friend. I couldn’t just bed her and forget her like I did with the others. Even more scary? I didn’t want to.

Those eyes… I could never let her get close to me. She would see right through all of the walls that I had built up around me, all the secrets I’d buried deep inside. I could never tell her the truth about why I didn’t sleep, about the demons that haunted me in my dreams. I could never tell anyone.

“Really?” I finally replied to her revelation.

She looked down to her teacup. “I know it’s hard to believe. I don’t look anything like her.”

“You have her eyes.” I couldn’t help myself. It just popped out.

“You think so?”

I nodded. “Joe was obsessed with Brooke Bailey when he was younger. He had that blue swimsuit poster that she made. You know, the one where you could swear she was looking right at you and smiling?”

Jade rolled her eyes. “That poster embarrassed the hell out of me while I was growing up. Most people didn’t know Brooke was my mother, and I kept as quiet as I could.”

“Why would you be embarrassed? That poster was a hit. Your mom is beautiful.”

“Yeah, more beautiful than I’ll ever be, but that’s not why it was embarrassing.”

I didn’t agree that Jade wasn’t as beautiful as Brooke. Brooke was model beautiful, but Jade… Jade was stunning, warm, inviting.

“Then why?”

“Well…it’s kind of hard to say…” Her cheeks flushed an adorable pink.

“Come on,” I urged. “Tell me.”

“Well…because pretty much every teenage boy I knew had masturbated to my mom’s hard nipples poking through that blue suit, that’s why.”

I let out a chuckle. Poor girl did have a point. “I’m sure the poster made a lot of money for you.”

“I never saw any of it. Her second husband took most of it and gambled it away. After she divorced him, she came back, wanting to work things out with my father and me. I was around fifteen at the time, and I was having none of it. Neither was my father.”

The pain of loss washed over me. I knew what it felt like to lose a mother. My mother had been great up until… I shook my head to erase the images that tried to sneak in. I was twelve when my mother killed herself. Marjorie didn’t even remember her.

“I see. So it was the classic ‘choosing the career over the family’ kind of thing.”

Jade nodded. “That about sums it up. She was more interested in being Brooke Bailey than she was in being my mom, until she lost everything.”

“What’s she up to now?”

“I haven’t the foggiest, other than she’s broke and botoxed.” Jade took a sip of her tea. “And I don’t care.”

I nodded. What could I say to that? She had every right to feel the way she did.

“I guess I should get back to bed.” She stood.

But I didn’t want her to leave. I enjoyed talking to her. I really didn’t talk to much of anyone other than Marjorie and my brothers. I found myself wanting to talk to Jade, and that had to stop. The more I talked, the more cracks got into my wall. I could not risk my wall coming down. I would die.

So I had to let her go. I couldn’t let her in, as much as I wanted to.

But I stood anyway, went after her, grabbed her, and turned her to face me.

“What is it?” Her eyes were wide.

“This,” I said and slammed my mouth onto hers.

God, the same strawberry-champagne flavor… She returned my kiss, twirling her tongue against mine. My cock stiffened under my lounge pants. I wasn’t wearing a shirt, and I desperately wanted to feel her breasts against me. Still kissing her, I untied her robe and slipped it over her shoulders until it ended up in a silky puddle on the kitchen floor.

Her beautifully full breasts were bound in a white tank top. Such beauty shouldn’t be bound. It should be free. I broke the kiss and looked down. Her dark areolas were visible through the white cotton, her nipples puckered and hard. I cupped one breast in my left hand and kissed her again.

She groaned into my mouth. I felt the vibration more than heard it. My cock was full-on hard now. I desperately wanted to push her down to her knees, force her mouth onto my erection, and make her suck me into oblivion.

Instead, I kept kissing her, thumbing her erect nipple. When she sighed into my mouth, I gave the nipple a little pinch.

She jerked against me but did not stop me. She continued to kiss me, letting her soft sweet tongue wander into my mouth. I drank from her, quenching a thirst that I hadn’t realized I had. She was so beautiful, so giving, so…everything that I was not. Soft where I was hard.

Whole where I was…broken.

Could she heal me? Could anyone heal all the holes in my soul?

As we kissed, I almost believed that she could.

But I knew better.

I broke the kiss with a loud smack.

No one could heal me. I would forever be broken.

She looked up at me with those steely eyes, her lips puffy and swollen, her nipples still hard through the white tank top. How I ached to hold her close to me, kiss the top of her silky hair, whisper into her ear that everything was all right and would always be all right.

But that would be a lie.

Nothing would ever be all right again.

I walked around her, my cock still hard and aching, left the kitchen, and went back to my bedroom. Roger trailed at my heals, panting. Damn dog was always happy.