Ruined (Barnes Brothers #4)(30)

“I didn’t live here twenty years ago.”

“No.” She shrugged. “But I’m about as comfortable around the Barnes family as I am around my own. Besides, if I stayed at the gate in my car, I’d be recognized. Why are you such a grizzly this morning?”

He opened his mouth, closed it. He didn’t have any answer other than the fact that his nice, mellow mood was replaced by one that was anything but nice and mellow. To be specific, he felt jumped up and horny, to the point that he felt like crawling all over her, flattening that lounge chair out and then pushing her skirt up.

It was crazy. He was used to this gut-wrenching need for her—or so he thought. He’d gotten it under control but now he felt like everything inside him was screaming mine, mine . . . she’s mine.

And everything was telling him he had the right to go crawl over her, touch her, strip her. Fuck her.

Her cheeks flushed and she shifted on the chair. “What are you staring at?”

“You.” He shrugged it off. “You’re looking like a spring day and I look like I just ran a marathon.”

“Did you?”

It took him a moment to process that. “No. Eight miles.” Sighing, he cut a wide path around the deck, keeping his distance and focusing on the doors that led inside. “Look, Marin. I’m hot, I’m hungry, and I need a shower.” Wanna join me? “After I deal with the hot and the shower parts, I’m grabbing a sandwich, and then I might drive down to San Francisco. Why don’t you tell me what you want?”

Instead of answering, she asked, “Are you going to see your folks?”

“Marin . . .” He stopped at the door and dropped his head against it. The glass was warmed from the sun and he stared through it, the thought of the cool air inside beckoning to him. “What are you doing here?”

“You know . . . usually when I come by, you say things like . . . Hi, Marin . . . How are you, Marin . . . Want to come inside, Marin?”

Oh, he had a come inside question for her. He wanted to ask her if she’d come inside so he could come inside her and f*ck her until neither of them could think straight.

Biting the inside of his cheek and hoping the pain would bring some much-needed composure, he wrenched open the door and stormed inside. Over his shoulder, he bit off, “Come on in.”

He thought he heard her huff out a breath.

He made a mental note and decided to be—what had she called him, oh, yeah. A grizzly. He was going to be a very rude grizzly if that’s what it took to get her out of there before he did something stupid.

He could apologize for being an *.

But some things . . . well, those would be harder to apologize for and if he went and put his hands on her . . .

His brain started to melt inside his already overheated skull.

The door closed behind him but he didn’t look back. He busied himelf at the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. He was tempted to pour the whole thing over his head but instead, he twisted the cap off and guzzled half of it. “I need a shower. Unless whatever you have is urgent . . . ?”

Marin waved a hand at him.

“Good.” He barely glanced at her, knowing he’d just catch another look at long, slim thighs, delicate ankles, that beautiful hair spilling down her shoulders.

You’re into self-torture, he told himself, cutting off the thoughts about her slim thighs, delicate ankles, her hair . . . Fuck, that hair.

What was wrong with him?

He strode straight to the bedroom, his head everywhere but where it needed to be, and without paying as much attention as he needed to, he shut the door only halfway. He didn’t bother shutting the bathroom door. Although he was acutely aware of Marin’s presence, he was a both a bachelor and a creature of habit.

While the smart thing to do would have been to take a cold shower, he knew that would help for only as long as he was in the shower, so he adjusted the temperature so that it was like warm silk flowing across his skin. The crisscrossing sprays washed away the sweat as he leaned back on the wall and closed his eyes.

His cock pulsed and ached, so heavy between his thighs, it was a miracle he’d even been able to walk down the hall without hobbling. The past few days, dreams of Marin had taken up his nights, and now it looked like they were going to start taking over his days, too.

Maybe he’d just given up one addiction for another.

She could be just as soul-destroying as the alcohol, but Sebastien had gotten his need for her under control before.

He had just had to . . .

“Fuck.”

Swearing, he closed his hand around his cock and stroked. Up, then down. The mind-consuming lust was burning through his veins now, so hot, he thought he wouldn’t have been surprised if the water pounding down on him had turned to steam the second it hit his flesh.

His balls drew tight against his flesh as he dragged his hand down again and again.

The water made it easy, taking away any friction until it was just heat and wet and his fist—and the fantasy of having Marin in here with him.

Better yet, stretched out beneath like before—

He groaned. “Dreams, man. Just dreams.”

He imagined having her on the couch, how she’d look, her neat curls as he spread them with his thumb just before he licked the taste of her away. She’d make a hot little mewling sound when he drove inside. She’d be just as wet as the water, silken and soft, and when he made her come, she’d shiver and clench tight around him, gasping out his name.