Ruined (Barnes Brothers #4)(28)

She would have argued. She wasn’t wearing a mask. Marin didn’t pull that fake routine. She was who she was.

But then . . .

She didn’t show the world everything she was, either.

That could be suicide in this business. It wasn’t about lying. It was about self-preservation. Showing them who you were meant exposing weaknesses as well as strengths, disappointments as well as achievements, and as far as the media went, doing that was like offering yourself up to the vultures—before you were already dead.

“I just worry about him.” She managed a weak smile. “I’ve spent a lot of time with him the past year. He’s had a rough time of it.”

“He’s made it rougher than he needed to.” Dash held up a staying hand at her hard look. “I’m not saying that he hasn’t had a bad deal. He did and frankly it sucks. Who knows, I might’ve just put a gun to my head and pulled the trigger if life had sucker-punched me like it did him. But he went and shut everybody out. Everybody . . . except for you.”

She flushed. “I was just more persistent. I don’t live that far away from him and it was easy for me to swing by and nag him into eating something or getting outside for a while, as long as I wasn’t working.” She didn’t mention that she’d curtailed her traveling just so she could stay close. “Look, it’s not like his parents can drive over there three or four times a week, with them living as far away as they do. Not to mention that his brothers don’t even live in the state.”

“But he’s pretty tight with his family. And he shoved all them out.” Dash shrugged. “I’m pretty good friends with Zach. We’ve talked a bit about him, Sebastien. Zach was talking like it might take a sledgehammer to get in, and then it turns out you’ve been out there visiting him all along.” Stroking his hand down his jaw, Dash said, “I think he was a bit miffed, darling.”

“What kind of guy uses the word miffed?” Maren rolled her eyes. “Zach probably tried to use a sledgehammer on Sebastien. Save for Zane, none of them would recognize subtlety if it bit them on the ass. Sometimes you need a softer touch.”

At that, a smile spread across Dash’s face. “I’ve always been a fan of softer touches myself. Soft touches. Hard touches. I like them all. Shall I demonstrate?”

“Pervert.” Laughing, she shook her head at him and reached for her fork. The dessert in front of her was calling her name and she needed to focus on the man who actually liked being with her.

Not the man who called her another’s woman name in his sleep.





Chapter Nine




“Take your hair down.” That hair . . . f*ck, he loved that hair.

“Please . . .” Marin moved against him and her breasts, so perfect and delicate, pressed against his hands.

He wanted to taste her nipples, suck on them until she was gasping.

So he did.

She licked her lips and slid her hand down, freed him from his jeans. He moved into her touch, certain this was all just a fantasy. Marin . . . she was touching him.

Marin. She was here.

She teased him until he thought his cock would explode, and then he grabbed her, lifting her up. “No more. I want to feel you wrapped around me. Now.”

“Sebastien . . .”

It was the best damn thing he’d ever felt in his life—she was the best damn thing. He’d always loved her. Always . . .

“Open,” he rasped against her mouth. “Let me taste you.”

Her tongue tangled with his, while her * squeezed around him and the need tried to drive him insane.

“Damn it, you . . .” She swore when he stopped, but all he wanted was to have her stretched out under him. Like he’d dreamed.

The couch was under them and he came down on her, opening her completely. On his knees, he pushed inside her, staring into haunting, beautiful eyes.

“More.” Everything . . .

Marin moaned and grabbed at his arms, her nails scoring him, marking him, branding him. But hell . . . she’d already done that.

She owned him. Completely.

Driving into her, he fisted his hand in her hair, tugging her head back until their eyes met. Marin stared at him and said his name. Then as she reached up to touch his cheek, she said, “More . . . Sebastien, please . . .”

Sebastien lay in bed, the sheets long since kicked off, one hand fisted around his cock, eyes closed as he tried to hold on to a dream that was already fading.

Marin . . .

Her name was a song in his head and he could almost feel her lips on his, the echo of her taste dancing on his lips.

It was all just a dream.

One hell of a dream, too.

His balls were drawn tight against him and he was this close to climax already.

A hard shudder wracked him as he dragged his hand back up, arching into the rough stroke. The thick vein on the underside of his penis throbbed as he twisted his wrist, all but mindless with need.

Please . . .

The word danced through his mind, more like memory than dream.

Please . . .

It was insane, this obsession he had with her.

Insane . . . but he’d never give it up.

Fuck trying to burn this need out with another woman. It wouldn’t work. He knew it. Fist pumping up and down, eyes locked on images he knew couldn’t be real, he worked his cock, breath coming in harsh pants.