The CEO's Seduction (A Hamilton Family Series) Page 7

  So she did the only logical thing for a teenager to do.

  She followed him home.

  “I’m going to bed.” Anna stood up, her eyes on the front door.

  If she sneaked out the back, she could follow him and make sure he was okay.

  Forcing herself to walk slowly into the kitchen, she took off at a run once she rounded the corner. She closed the back door quietly behind her, flinching at the squeaking hinges. Creeping across her lawn, she climbed the fence that separated their lawns and tiptoed up to the bay window by their living room.

  As she watched, Brett walked in and said a few words.

  Neither his aunt nor his uncle bothered to lift their heads or reply.

  Brett’s shoulders drooped for a fraction of a second, but then he straightened up and headed into the kitchen. She crept along with him, anxious to see if his birthday dinner waited for him. Or a cake. Hiding behind a huge oak tree, she peeked into the window. He opened the cabinets and the fridge, and made himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. There wasn’t a cake in sight.

  Of course there wasn’t.

  Why would they care enough to make him a special meal if they didn’t care about him at all? How could she have been so foolish as to believe him? He cleaned up his mess, even going so far as to wipe the crumbs from the bread off the counter, and sat at the table. Alone. On his birthday. With a sandwich.

  It was so wrong.

  She pressed a hand to her aching heart, the tears blurring her vision and soaking her cheeks. No wonder he looked so lonely. He was.

  She didn’t move the whole time he ate, offering him a silent sort of company. Even if he didn’t know he wasn’t alone—he wasn’t. Not when she was around. She would never let him be alone again. She watched him eat his sandwich, not leaving her hiding spot until he switched off the kitchen light and went upstairs.

  When a light turned on upstairs, she set her plan into action. She sprinted across his lawn, hopped the fence, and crept into her kitchen. One there, she peeked into the living room. No Christopher—which meant no questions.

  Thank God.

  Grabbing her messenger bag off the dining room chair, she dumped her books out onto the table and grabbed some cookies. Cookies weren’t cake, but they would have to do. Opening the fridge, she reached for two bottles of Coke, but hesitated.

  Did she dare?

  Heck yeah, she dared.

  Shoving two bottles of fruity wine coolers into the bag, she closed the fridge. She escaped back outside and onto his lawn without being spotted.

  As she stood under his balcony, she swiped her sweaty palms on her shorts. She’d never been good at climbing rope in gym class, but this wasn’t rope.

  It was a tree.

  Should be easier, right?

  Lifting her hands up, she clung to the lowest branch and swung up. By some miracle, she made it. Yet when she pulled herself up to the next branch, a wine cooler slid out of the bag. Scrambling to catch it before it hit the ground, her grip slipped on the branch.

  Her heart thudding, she tumbled off the branch and hit the ground with a soft cry—and a slice of pain shooting through her hand.

  “Anna?” Brett asked, his brow furrowed. “Are you okay?”

  Tearing herself from the past, she met his eyes. She would always relive what happened next in her memory. The smell of his cologne as he pulled her into his arms. The look in his eyes as he held her close and…

  Nope.

  She wouldn’t go there again.

  “I’m fine. But no, I didn’t tell them. Why would I? I mean, it’s not like they’re going to ground me now, right? It doesn’t even matter anymore.”

  His eyes darkened. “It matters to me. It’s still the nicest thing anyone ever did for me.”

  Her heart twisted. “That’s kind of sad, if you ask me. You didn’t even get to eat the cookies. They were covered in glass, dirt, alcohol, and blood.”

  “It might be sad, but it’s true.” He shrugged. “Can’t change the past.”

  No, but he could change the future.

  She said nothing.

  At her silence, he dropped her hand, and she curled it into a fist. She felt empty without him holding her. “Anyway, yeah. Thank you, again.”

  She raised a brow. “You’re thanking me for climbing your tree, falling, and bleeding all over you—almost ten years ago?”

  “No.” He gave a slight shake of his head. “I’m thanking you for caring enough to try. For seeing the truth about my aunt and uncle and trying to make my night better.”

  She ran her thumb over the scar. “You always told us you were well cared for once you reached your teenage years. Why didn’t you tell us the truth?

  Why didn’t you tell us you practically raised yourself? Or that no one gave you presents and cake?”

  “What difference would it have made? It is the way it is.” He gave her one of his fake smiles. “What good would whining have done for me?”

  “A cake at my house, for starters.”

  He looked at the living room window, his brow furrowed. “I got one the next year. You ensured that, even though you pretended it was your mom’s idea. I think you might have even baked it yourself.”

  He was right.

  It had taken her three tries, and all of her Saturday, but she’d finally gotten it right. But she didn’t think he knew that she was the one who had made it.

  She’d tried to hide that.

  Apparently, she’d failed.

  “How did you know?” she asked.

  “Your writing on the cake.” He cocked his head. “And you put little hearts all over it.”

  Stupid girl.

  “Okay, I’ll admit it. It was me. Mom couldn’t believe the truth when I told her. She believed you when you said they made you a cake and cooked your favorite dinner. Everyone did.”

  His hand drifted down her arm, caressing the skin so lightly she barely felt it. “Except you. You saw through the act.”

  “I always did. Still can.” She forced a casual shrug, even though she wanted nothing more than to fling herself at him. “I can see you’re not happy now, either. I don’t know what you want out of life, but it isn’t what you currently have. I hope you can figure out what you really want sometime soon.”

  “Once again, your perception amazes me.” He rubbed his jaw. “But what I want and what I can have are two completely different things.”

  She sucked in a deep breath, because deep down, she couldn’t help but think he meant her. That he wanted her. “You can have anything you want in life, as long as you’re willing to risk it. Even love, if you wanted it.”

  He swallowed hard and averted his eyes. “You know, I used to think my aunt and uncle loved me in their own way. That shows how little I know about love.”

  She dug her nails into her palms. “You didn’t know what love was back then. You were only a kid.”

  He laughed, but it wasn’t a real laugh. It was too hard. Too callous. “I still don’t know what it is. I don’t think I ever will. It’s just not a part of my life, and I like it that way, if we’re being honest.”

  Anna took a breath and looked deep into his eyes. “Love is never giving up on someone, no matter how hard they make it to continue caring for them. Love is when you can’t stand being apart from the one person in life who matters the most, even when you’re angry with them. Love doesn’t go away simply because it won’t ever become anything more than a one-sided love.”

  His face closed up on her, any trace of emotion disappearing within seconds. He stepped away from her and looked up at the sky. “Was love…was it climbing up a tree to bring birthday cookies and wine coolers to someone?”

  She laughed uneasily and looked down at her feet. “Yes. You could say that. I certainly loved you.”

  And I still do.

  Probably always will.

  “Don’t do that. Don’t hide your smile from me. It’s beautiful.” He lifted her chin with his finger, smiling down
at her with a tenderness he probably didn’t even recognize. “It meant a lot to know someone out there loved me…back then.”

  She couldn’t help but notice he used the past tense. Hadn’t he listened to what she just said? Love didn’t just give up. Did he really think she could stop caring about him?

  Rising up on her tiptoes, she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “I still care. I’ve tried to stop, believe me. I’ve tried.”

  His mask cracked, and he looked at her as if she were his salvation and his curse combined. “Anna…”

  She shook her head and pressed her lips tightly together. “Don’t say a word. I just wanted you to know that, no matter where you are, or what you’re doing with your life…someone out there cares.”

  Before he could say anything in return, she turned on her heel and left him in the dwindling daylight. Just the way he liked to be. Alone.

  Chapter Eight

  A few hours later, Brett entered the dark house alone. After the boys had all gone home, he stayed at the bar for twenty minutes, because fuck, he’d needed some peace and quiet after the last few days. They all thought he was going to go home with the clingy blonde he danced with all night, and had been cracking jokes as they left.

  He’d smirked and let them.

  The second the door closed behind them, he let the woman know it wasn’t going to happen, and she’d moved on to another guy with nothing more than a pout.

  He tripped over something on the floor because it was too dark to see. Muttering curses, he continued his way toward the staircase. After a lot of stumbles and a few bumps, he managed to make it up the stairs without tripping and killing himself, which was a miracle on its own. When he reached his door, he froze with his hand on the knob.

  Had Anna gone to bed yet, or was she still watching movies and laughing with her friends? Christ, he envied her freedom and ability to express her emotions. Wished he could be more like her. If he could, then maybe he could have her as his.

  Maybe then he would deserve her love.

  Maybe then he’d be a good enough man.

  Then again, probably not, because he didn’t want to be the guy who caused her pain or heartache. That’s why he kept his distance. Why he refused to take what she offered, knowing he couldn’t give her himself in return.

  But what if he hurt her when he did that, too?

  What then?

  Turning on his heel, he approached her door, his heart pounding a steady rhythm. He was acting irrationally. Being stupid.

  But even admitting that, he wasn’t about to turn away.

  He had to see her.

  Silently, he crept into her room, approaching her bed on silent feet. Breath held, he leaned over her bed, squinting into the darkness. He couldn’t see a damn thing.

  Should he turn on the light?

  Would that wake her up?

  Of course it would.

  Fucking idiot.

  A sigh filled the silent room. “Is there a reason you’re in my room?”

  He stiffened at the sound of her voice, and his chest tightened as his pulse soared higher than a fucking kite. “I just…wanted to…check on you.”

  She flicked on the light and pinched her nose with her fingers. “Are you drunk again?”

  He sat down on the edge of her bed, clutching his knees tightly. She looked so damn soft and pretty and touchable. And he really, really wanted to touch. “I wish.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I barely drank anything, but if I had, then I’d have an excuse for being here.” He lifted a shoulder, his eyes on the thin strap of her nightgown, and all the soft, creamy skin it left exposed. “I’ve got none.”

  She tossed her mussed hair over her shoulder, her wide eyes on him. A surge of lust slammed into his gut. “Did you have fun?”

  “Not really.”

  “Why not? Parties are supposed to be fun.”

  His fingers twitched. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, even though I had a pretty little blonde hanging on me, offering me whatever I wanted. What the fuck does that even mean?”

  She crinkled her nose adorably and reared back. “I can smell her perfume on you.”

  “But don’t you see?” He touched her nose, capturing her gaze. “It doesn’t matter. She might as well have been invisible because she wasn’t you.”

  Anna bit down on her lower lip and gripped his arms, her small hands clinging to him. “If you’re saying these things, you’ve gotta be drunk. Let’s get you into bed.”

  She was so sure he was wasted, and he didn’t necessarily blame her. After all, he was in her room in the middle of the night, talking about shit he never usually talked about. “I’m not drunk. But if you want me to lie down…”

  He started swinging his legs up to lie down, but she shoved them back down with wide eyes. “Not in my bed. Yours.” She hopped out of bed and started tugging on his hands. He didn’t budge. “God, how drunk are you, Brett?”

  He smirked. “Not at all.”

  “Yeah. Sure you aren’t.” She sighed, but a smile twitched her lips upward. “Now let’s go.” She tugged hard on his hand, urging him to his feet.

  This time, he let her, because as much as she might think he was drunk, he wasn’t…and it was time to go back to his own room, even if he didn’t want to. For the first time in his whole damn life, he didn’t want to sleep in an empty bed.

  He followed her as she led him across her room and into the hallway, and opened his bedroom door. When they reached his bed, she dropped his hand and threw back the covers. Turning to him, she placed her hands on her hips and gave him a patronizing look. “Get your clothes off and climb into bed.”

  He grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head without a moment’s hesitation. If she wanted him to strip, he’d fucking strip. Give her a show. “Are you going to be joining me, Twinkletoes?”

  Her gaze roamed over his bare chest. “Nope.”

  “Why not?” he asked, dropping his shirt on the floor.

  She gave him her back, breathing unevenly. “Because you’re drunk.”

  “No, I’m not.” He approached her, dropping his hands on her shoulders. “I’m just sick of pretending I don’t give a shit when I do. I’m not empty inside.”

  She sucked in a breath, saying nothing. Then, after what seemed like a million years, she whispered, “I know.”

  “You’re the only one.” He nuzzled her neck, breathing deep. She smelled so damn good. Did she smell like plumeria everywhere? Did she taste like them, too? He needed to know. For once, he wanted to stop caring about all the reasons he shouldn’t touch her and focus instead on all the reasons he should. There were a lot of them. Millions, at least. “You told me you didn’t want me after you kissed me. I think you were lying.”

  She let out an angry sound. “Just get in the bed, Brett.”

  “Fine. Don’t turn around. I’m taking my pants off.” He stepped back, letting go of her, and she swayed back toward him before straightening again. “Unless you want to watch. If you do…then turn around. I dare you.”

  She laughed uneasily. “That’s one dare I probably shouldn’t take.”

  “Too scared to?” he taunted, even though he knew she was being the smart one. Stepping out of his pants, he pulled on a pair of pajama pants with Santa all over them—a present from her in high school—and crawled into bed. “By the way, still not drunk.”

  She fidgeted with her nightie. “Are you dressed yet?”

  “Yeah,” he said, yawning. His voice came out husky and deep. “I’m in the bed.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him with apprehension clear in her eyes. When she saw him all tucked in and in place, she smoothed her hair over her shoulders and stepped forward. “All right. I’ll let you sleep it off and—”

  “Still not drunk.” He forced himself to look into her eyes without flinching. “Will you sleep with me?”

  Her answer meant way too much to him.

  More than it should.
>
  Don’t say no.

  She shifted on her feet, her hands holding on to her modest nightgown. The soft purple color brought out her eyes and the lush pink of her lips. “You want me to sleep with you? In the same bed?”

  “Yes.” He turned down the covers on the other side of the bed. “More than anything in the world. For just one night.”

  She cocked her head. “But why?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “All I know is I want you in my arms for a night. I want to see what it feels like.”

  She bit down hard on the corner of her bottom lip and took a step toward him. “You’re not drunk?”

  “I’m not. I swear it.”

  “Brett…” Her eyes closed for a second. “Okay. One night. Just sleeping.”

  His pulse sped up. “Okay.”

  Without another word, she climbed into bed with him. Rolling over on her side, she tucked her hand under her face and studied him. She was far enough away from him that they weren’t touching, yet close enough for him to feel her heat, and it was addictive. Hesitantly, he reached out and touched a strand of her hair. It was silky soft, and long, and beautiful, like her. “Thank you for staying.”

  Her eyes on him, she said, “Leaving when you need me would be harder than walking away from my shadow. It’s just not possible.”

  And that’s why he needed her so damn much.

  That’s why she scared the shit out of him, too.

  “Sometimes, I wish things could be different. That I could be different.”

  “I don’t.” She frowned at him. “I like you just the way you are.”

  Then she rolled onto her other side, giving him her back. For a while he lay there, just staring at the back of her head, enjoying the feel of her in the same bed with him, even though they weren’t touching. As her breathing evened out and she drifted off to sleep, he closed his eyes, too, but his damn mind wouldn’t shut off. How could she still like him for who he was, even after all of these years? How could she not lose faith in him…

  When he’d lost it in himself?