Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
My sister doesn’t hesitate. When we leave the kitchen, I shoot a look at Hannah. I’m rewarded with perhaps the best thing she could have given me this morning.
Strike that… the second-best thing.
She gives me a look of fond regret for what we were about to do and have now lost for the day. I send the same back to her, and she turns for the dishwasher.
In my office, Christina settles into the chair behind my desk. As she unloads papers from her satchel, I load my briefcase up. It includes blueprints of a proposed wellness center that we’re considering putting into one of the retirement communities we’re hoping to build.
“So who is that woman really?” Christina asks in a voice that sounds casually disinterested, but she’s not fooling me. She’s totally nosy.
“Housekeeper,” I mutter, closing my case and securing the dual latches.
“Quit fucking lying to me,” she says with a laugh. “You can’t hide shit from me.”
“Just a housekeeper,” I assert firmly as I pick my briefcase up.
“Oh yeah, then why was there a thump against the door just as I arrived? Why is your hair all mussed up? Why were her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed? I don’t even want to ever think again about the hard-on I saw you sporting. And why did the two of you share a long, regretful look before we came back to your office?”
Goddamned motherfucking intuitively nosy-assed sister. She grins at me knowingly.
I deflate, sigh, and then admit a few partial truths. “She is my housekeeper. But we’re sort of… seeing each other.”
Delight washes over Christina’s face. “Perfect. You can bring her to the gala—”
I hold my hand up, stopping her midsentence. “We’re fucking each other. And that is all.”
I’ve never held back from my sister. She’s my twin after all. She can also have as foul a mouth as me, so she’s not offended by my words. Christina’s face crumples, and frustration washes over her. “What is wrong with you? She could sue you for sexual harassment or something.”
Shaking my head, I try to ease her mind without revealing exactly how I came to have sole possession of Hannah’s pussy. “It’s not like that. She’s a very willing participant.”
“So it could turn into something more,” Christina says, a happy smile pulling the corners of her mouth up once again. Not a question to me but a statement. She believes that any woman I let in can give me something she thinks I need.
I hate hurting my sister. I really do. She loves me and only wants what’s best for me, but… “Sorry, it’s just sex, Christina. All it will ever be.”
“But—”
“No buts. Just let it go, Sis. Stop trying to push me to something you think I need, but that I clearly don’t want.”
A sense of capitulation is clear when she sighs and slinks back into her chair, finally giving me an acquiescent nod. I round the desk, bend over, and kiss the top of her head. “I love you. You’re a pain in my ass, but at the end of the day, I still love you.”
“Love you, too, you closeminded asshole,” she mutters, patting my face before I pull back.
When I have my briefcase in hand and make it to my door, she asks, “Want to go out to dinner with Jack and me tonight?”
I twist my neck, glancing at her over my shoulder. “Sure. But make it no later than eight. I have plans later this evening.”
“With Hannah?” she asks.
“With none of your business,” I reply with a wink before leaving the office. I pull the door closed behind me, not wanting any conversation I’m getting ready to have with Hannah to carry.
I find her in the living room, cleaning my glass-top coffee table. She straightens when she hears me come in, holding a spray bottle with blue cleaner in one hand and a rag in the other.
“That was awkward,” she whispers, sounding bemused.
Stepping right into her, I put a hand at the back of her head and place a long kiss on her mouth. “That was bad timing, and I’m not in a happy mood going into the office this morning.”
“Poor baby,” she croons, but it’s sarcastic—not empathetic. “Shall we hit the club tonight?”
“Fuck yes,” I reply, and then I kiss her again. “I’ll pick you up at ten. And just so you know, it’s going to be a long night since I won’t have you on the weekend.”
“Until then,” she says before squatting back down to continue cleaning my coffee table.
I watch her a moment, battling a weird feeling as she cleans. I find myself not liking it. As if the work is beneath someone like her, but then I realize… this job is a few steps above the work she was doing at that bar. I’m also paying her far more than she was making before, so I let that assuage these unusual misgivings.