I CANNOT BELIEVE I just had sex with my best friend’s kid sister. Not only that, I owned her, took everything she was giving and gave it back to her just as hard, maybe even harder. The truth is, her sweet, barely touched body came alive under my greedy hands, and I swear to God, knowing I was the one who could do that to her... Let’s just say it rocked my world, and I’ve never come so hard in my entire life. She might have given me everything, and I damn well took it, but it was Peyton who held all the power, in a fundamental way.
I cast her a glance as we walk down the sidewalk, the early-morning sun beating down on us, but the warm rays have nothing to do with the glow on her face. No, I’m the reason her cheeks are flushed with heat. I take in her light blue dress, perfect for the classroom, and smooth my hand over my tie. Peyton’s look is more casual than mine, but I’m comfortable in a suit and tie—my usual business attire. I don’t need it for my job, but I grew up always having to look my best in public.
As people hurry by, heading to their workplaces, she hums under her breath, and I wish she’d stop. Now every time I hear that sound on her lips, it will take me back to her bedroom. We shouldn’t have done that. No, I should have been stronger. An uncomfortable pressure builds in my chest. Christ. If her brother ever found out...
He can’t find out.
He won’t.
No regrets, Roman.
“Peyton, about Cason, I—”
She puts her hand up to stop me. “First, I know how important he is to you and I’m not going to let anything happen to your relationship. Second, what I do with my body and who I sleep with is not his business,” she says, and my shoulders relax.
I’m an honest guy. Shit, I pride myself on it, and I’m a complete and utter asshole for A, sleeping with Peyton, and B, keeping it from Cason. I guess in the end, the fact that neither of us wants more, that we will go back to a clean slate when we’re done here, means Cason never really has to know. Never has to know the guy he trusted with his sister, the guy he could always count on, betrayed the hell out of him.
Shit.
“You ready for this?” I ask, and her smile is a bit shaky when she lifts her head to me. A small shiver goes through her despite the warmth in the air.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“You’re cold.”
“Probably just from nerves.”
I frown down at her. “You always seem a little bit cold, Peyton.”
She shrugs and I put my arm around her and draw her body close.
“Look at that, you didn’t even flinch,” I tease, wanting to ease her tension. This job is important to her. Being there for young minds, making them all feel important, loved and cherished—all the things she’d never felt, from anyone but Cason, growing up—is her life’s goal.
She chuckles. “I guess it’s a good thing we had that little experiment, then.”
“That’s what we’re calling it, is it?” My gaze goes to her lush mouth. She opened that mouth for me this morning, the sweet sight more welcoming than a hard rain after a summer’s drought. Christ, she took me so deep into her throat. Deeper than I would’ve ever expected her to take me, and how is it that oral sex with a woman who’d never given it before completely eclipsed every experience from my past? I wanted to come down her throat, fill her mouth with every last drop, but I needed to be inside her. Needed her snug sex muscles to milk my release more than I needed my next breath.
Dark lashes fall slowly over emerald eyes, and her look is demure, coy. “Yes. That’s what we’re calling it.”
Shit, I love this teasing side of her. But two can play that game. “Fine, but I’d prefer if you didn’t use the word little when you’re referring to sex with me.”
Her jaw drops open and her gorgeous green eyes go wide. “Did the humorless Roman Bianchi just crack a joke?” She reaches up and puts her hand on my forehead. “Are you sick, running a fever...delirious?”
I shove her hand away. “All right, smart-ass.”
She grins at me, but her nervousness about her first day seems to have ebbed, and for that I’m grateful. We cross the street when the light turns and both go silent. After a long while she speaks.
“Roman,” she says quietly, so quietly I almost miss it.
“Yes.”
She shades the sun from her eyes and glances down the street. I follow the direction and spot the school in the near distance. “Thanks for this,” she says.
“My pleasure,” I say, and mean every word of it. This girl needs a break, and I’m happy to give it to her. “Like I said, it’s a nice reprieve from reality.” With my arm still around her, I give a comforting squeeze. “We got this.”
“Yeah, I think we do.”
“Cason told me a bit about the job. He said you were in competition for the full-time position. How is that all working?” She breaks from my arm and sneezes into the crook of her elbow. I frown when she turns back to me, take in the red in her eyes. “Are you getting sick?” Maybe that’s why she always seems to be shivering.
“I think it’s actually allergies.”
“Allergic to Malta?”
“Probably the different foliage they have here.”
“Do you have any meds for that?”
“I’m sure it will pass,” she says, and offers me a smile. “Back to your question. The full-time teacher left for maternity and made the decision not to come back. I’m one of two candidates hired for the month of June. I’m not sure who the other person is. We both work in the classroom until the end of the school year, and whoever ‘fits’ the best will be offered the full-time position in September.”
“Why Malta?”
“The opportunity presented itself. I want to offer something to the children, expand their horizons. I feel like I can give back more in a place like this.”
“Does it have to be Malta?”
“No, but these jobs aren’t easy to come by and I want to be in a community in need, know what I mean?”
“I do.”
A woman and her young son, who looks to be about three, stroll down the sidewalk, and I catch the loving way Peyton watches them, her lips curving at the corners. For a girl who doesn’t want a family, or kids—doesn’t believe in Cinderella or Prince Charming—she sure has a longing smile on her face. Maybe that’s why she became a teacher—maybe all the children help fill the hollowed-out holes in her life.
“And you have to be married?”
The small family passes and her chest expands as she takes in a deep breath and lets it out ever so slowly. “Technically the marriage bar has been lifted, but it’s practiced behind the scenes here. I don’t like to deceive anyone, Roman, but I couldn’t take a chance. I’m hoping once they see me in action with the kids, my marital status will no longer matter.”
“I get it, but it’s all ridiculous. It’s the twenty-first century, for Christ’s sake.”
She shrugs. “I know, but this job means everything to me. Which is why—”
“Which is why I’m your husband.” My body stiffens at the words. Wow, why the hell did that come out so easily, sound so right?
“Fake husband,” she corrects.
“Isn’t that what I said?”
“No.”
“I meant to.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Children file into the school and it brings a smile to her face.
“You really like kids, huh?”
She laughs, but it’s forced, and a gust of breeze blows her hair from her shoulders. “When they’re someone else’s kids, I do.”
I nudge her. “I bet you’ll love being an aunt.”
She goes still, her eyes wide with excitement. “Wait, do you know something about Cason and Londyn that I don’t?”
“I hardly think I’d be the first to know. I just mean, I’m sure they’ll have kids at some point.”
Her big smile wraps around me. “I guess I never thought about being an aunt before.” She blinks up at me. “Do any of your sisters have kids?”
“Yeah, and I’m a shitty uncle.”
Her face twists, a dubious smile. “I doubt that.”
“I try to be a good uncle. I really do. But whenever I visit, it’s like the Spanish Inquisition and children are thrust into my arms. I feel like if I touch one, I’ll get infected.”
Her laugh fills my soul with happiness. “Infected. Like they’re a disease?”
“No, maybe the word is addicted, or hooked.” I shake my head. “What I’m trying to say—”
“What you’re trying to say is having kids is the norm, and people can’t understand those like us who are child-free by choice.”
“Isn’t that what I said?”
She laughs and whacks me. “Oh yeah, that’s exactly what you said. But no, I get it, and isn’t that just another thing we have in common?”
I give her a teasing wink. “It’s safe to say we recently discovered quite a few things we have in common,” I say, my cock twitching in remembrance as a sexy pink blush colors her cheeks. Jesus, I want her again. Want to bury my face between her legs and taste her sweetness as I bring her to orgasm. I capture her hand, and without even thinking bring it to my mouth and press a kiss to her fingers. As soon as I do, we find ourselves at the school, the doors swinging open. Peyton turns, and I let our hands drop but continue to hold hers.
“You must be Peyton Harrison,” a gentleman in his late fifties, dressed in a light gray suit, says.
Her smile widens and she takes his outstretched hand. “I am, and you must be Mr. Galea.”
“Please, call me Andrew.”
“It’s so great to finally meet you, Andrew.” She lets go of my hand and waves it toward me, palm up, as she introduces me to the man I can only assume is the principal. “This is my husband, Roman Bianchi.”
Andrew frowns, and I stiffen. I have no idea why I feel like I’m back in grade school getting caught in a lie. Maybe because I am in the middle of a whopper of a lie. But it’s for a greater purpose in an unfair situation, making it justifiable in my mind. Sleeping with Peyton and lying to Cason about it, however, no greater purpose involved there, and not at all justifiable. Then again, I won’t have to lie to his face, because he won’t ask if I’m sleeping with his sister. He trusts me like that. Like Cason, I’m a guy who prides himself on the truth, too. But this is my best friend’s kid sister, and I’d do anything for him. Okay, who the hell am I kidding? This is Peyton, and I’d do anything for her. Even let her seduce me into her bed.
“Roman Bianchi,” the man says, and my breath stalls as my name sticks on his tongue, like he’s trying to figure out where he’d heard it before. Shit, maybe we should have made up a fake last name. “Do you have a sister named Aurora?”
“Actually, yeah, I do,” I say, and reach for Peyton’s hand again when her eyes widen.
“My goodness, I had no idea I was in the presence of royalty,” he says.
I hold my hands up to stop him. “The Bianchis are an old family, but we have no titles to our name. And please, I like to keep a low profile.”
“Yes, I always heard that about you.” His gaze goes from me to Peyton, and he must be remembering my failed engagement.
“We’ve kept things quiet,” I say. “You can imagine why.”
He nods, his blue eyes thoughtful. “Of course. I must tell you, though, your sister and my old college friend Lorenzo Costa are husband and wife.”
Worry cuts like a sharp blade. “You went to college with Lorenzo? What a small world,” I say, hoping to make light of it.
“Small indeed,” he agrees, and my stomach is so damn tight with worry, I give Peyton’s hand another fast squeeze. Shit, this is not good. If word gets out...
“Do you talk with Lorenzo very often?” I ask around the knot in my throat. Christ, I’m here to help Peyton, not screw everything up for her.
“No, it’s been a while. I must give him a call soon. Catch up.”
“Like I mentioned, I do appreciate my privacy.” I roll my eyes playfully. “If you know my sisters, I’d never get a moment’s peace if they knew I was here.”
He laughs like he does indeed know my family. “They are all lovely women and I’m a younger brother in a big family, too, so I fully understand what it’s like to have intrusive sisters.” He claps his hands together and turns to Peyton, and I relax a bit hoping we just dodged a bullet. “How about a tour, and then I’ll take you in to meet the staff before introducing you to your new students?”
“That sounds lovely,” Peyton says, the hitch in her voice noticeable only to me, and only because I know this woman. I give a little nod to let her know I got this, that everything will be okay. Her big eyes scan my face, and she relaxes slightly with my reassurance. Jesus, this girl trusts me, and I better be able to back it up and make sure I don’t mess this up.
We walk through the colorful halls and children’s laughter reaches our ears. “Richard is already here,” he says.
“Richard?” Peyton asks.
He shakes his head. “My apologies. Richard is the other teacher. An American, like you. He, too, is vying for the full-time position. His darling wife is with him. They’ve been here for over an hour.” I glance at my watch. “He’s eager to get started, I guess,” Andrew adds. “I bet you will all hit it off.”
I want to ask why he’s holding a ridiculous competition in the first place. Peyton is clearly the best candidate and I don’t even have to meet Richard, the eager beaver, to know it.
As if reading my mind, Andrew turns to me. “This is a much-coveted position, and while Richard and Peyton were top candidates, it’s important to us to see them in their role.”
I wrap my arm around Peyton. “I’m sure you’ll be extraordinarily impressed. She impresses me every day.”
“How did you two meet?” he asks.
“Roman and my brother are best friends. They met in college, Penn State. Perhaps you know my brother, Cason Harrison. He’s the creator of Hard Wear, quality fashion for men, and Soft Wear, quality fashion for women.”
Andrew’s eyes widen. “I have heard of that app. I believe my wife uses it.”
Peyton turns from us, sneezing into her arm again. “Sorry, allergies,” she explains as she fishes a tissue from her purse. Andrew gives us the grand tour and we end in the teachers’ lounge. He introduces us and everyone greets us with smiles and open arms, until he presents Richard and his wife, Paula, both of whom I instantly dislike. Oh, they’re smiling, but I grew up surrounded by fake, and know it when I see it.
“If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” Andrew says and disappears, leaving us with Richard and his wife.
“I’m looking forward to getting to know you both better,” Richard says. “Where are you residing for the month?”
For the month?
Okay, now that shit just pisses me off. He’s acting like he’s already got the job and Peyton might as well not get too settled.
“Not far,” I say, when his gaze lands on me. I work to keep my cool and add, “In this community.”
Paula flashes me a saccharine smile. “Looks like we’re neighbors. We must socialize.” She puts her hand on her husband’s chest. “In the evenings of course. Throughout the day, I’ll be home tending to the house and supporting my husband.” Her eyes turn to me. “And you, Roman? What will you be doing when your wife is at work?”
I move closer to my wife and anchor her body to mine. As the protector in me roars to life, I fight the instinct to stand in between her and these assholes. Peyton is tough on the outside and has the ability to handle this guy and his wife. It’s what’s underneath her bravado that worries me, the flare of some deeper emotion she keeps tucked deep, protected by an impenetrable and unscalable wall.
“I’ll be home supporting my wife, too,” I say, remaining on my best behavior as my fingers curl.
“Like a house husband?” Paula presses manicured nails to her chest and lets out a mocking laugh, stoking the anger in me. “How adorable.”
“So nontraditional,” Richard, and when I say Richard, I mean asshole, pipes in.
“You don’t want to stay home and have a family, Peyton?” Paula asks.
When Peyton’s face pales, a muscle twitches beneath my eye and I open my mouth, not about to let anyone belittle her or question her choices, but she puts her hand on my arm.
“I’m not saying that. I’m saying I’m an independent woman,” Peyton says. “My choices are my own, as are yours, and I hope we’ve come to the point where women have stopped shaming each other for their choices. We can have a family whether we work or stay home. I mean it is the twenty-first century after all.”
Atta girl!
I glare at Paula as she lifts her chin. “Yes, of course,” she says. “I guess I’ll always be that old-fashioned girl. Not that there is anything wrong with what you’re doing,” she says, her voice sweet, but the malicious glare tells a different story. “We just prefer to do things differently. That’s how it is in the Ozarks, where we come from, our values are much like they are here in Malta. Very different from New York, obviously.”
Two elderly ladies step into the lounge and I shake my head as Paula and her husband dismiss us and turn to charm them. I rub the knot from the back of my neck, hardly able to believe people like that still exist in this world. Then again, maybe that’s exactly what they’re looking for in Malta. Old time-y values. Peyton, however, has more values in her pinkie finger than almost anyone and while there is nothing wrong with staying home, no one and I mean no one should shame a woman for wanting a career. Peyton’s choices are hers, and hers alone—and that comes to her sexuality, too. As that epiphany hits me like the slap of a teacher’s ruler, it occurs to me she’s right about a lot of things she said to me, mainly that she can sleep with whoever she wants to sleep with while she’s here—as long as it’s me.
Christ.
I love her brother dearly but all of a sudden I can’t help but think maybe someone ought to tell him Peyton is a grown woman and her decisions are her own.
Andrew steps back into the lounge and claps his hands.
“Before I introduce you to your students, who are ready and excited to meet you, I would like to extend an invitation to you all, a get-to-know-one-another dinner at my home tonight.”
“We’d love to,” Richard says quickly. Peyton, however, casts me a quick glance.
I appreciate the check-in; it’s what most married couples would do. Making decisions together is something I watched my folks and my married siblings do over the years. I can’t help but wonder if her reaction was because she’s playing the part or she doesn’t want to ask too much from me. But I’m here for her. This woman is beautiful and selfless, and became a teacher to give back and make sure every child feels cherished. Whatever she needs from me, she gets.
“Sounds great to me,” I say, and the smile that splits her lips is enough to destroy any man. My heart tumbles a little in my chest, and I give a big swallow.
You’re here to help her, dude, maybe engage in a few marital benefits, and nothing else.
“It’s settled then. Let’s go say hello to your students.”
I put my hands on her shoulders. “Wish me luck,” she says.
“You don’t need it. You’ve got this, Peyton.” I bend and press my lips to hers. I brush her mouth lightly, and at first the public display of affection startles her. Within seconds, she warms to my touch, to the show I’m putting on—or at least I’m trying to convince myself it’s all for show and simply for our small audience. Peyton’s mouth lingers beneath mine, like she’s in no hurry to pull away, and I slowly break free and pull myself up to my full height. Paula, clearly one never to be outdone, goes up on her toes and kisses her husband.
I put my mouth close to Peyton’s ear and a quiver goes through her. “I’ll be at home, waiting for you,” I say. She nods, but the surprised yet appreciative look that comes over her face is a fast reminder that outside of her brother, this woman has never been able to count on anyone. I want her to be able to count on me.
Peyton casts a quick glance over her shoulder and I give her a little “you got this” nod as Andrew leads them from the room. It warms my heart and reminds me there really is still a lot of good in this world. Her brother must be so proud of the woman she’s become. He just needs to realize she is a woman and not a small, parentless child he has to protect due to a neglectful grandmother, followed by years in the system.
Speaking of siblings.
My phone pings in my pocket and I don’t have to check it to know it’s my sister, Aurora. I gave them all personalized rings. I toy with the phone and fight down a burst of unease as Peyton and Richard follow the principal out the door. I hope Andrew didn’t excuse himself so he could put a call in to his old college buddy—my sister’s husband. Shit, if word of this gets out, all Peyton’s hard work, hopes and dreams will go down the toilet. I can’t let that happen.
I’m about to leave when Paula lifts her head, her eyes narrow. “I can’t quite figure it out, but you look so familiar. Have we met before?”