Sarah's Seduction Page 9

  CHAPTER TEN

  Sarah was amazed at the incredible sixth sense that told a woman when a man had found release with another woman. She was never certain what it was that assured her of the fact. A look, a shadow in the eyes, perhaps the way they moved, but when she saw Brock that night, she knew he had. And she knew who it had been. The same woman sitting at the table with him and his brother. His brother’s woman. It wasn’t just the rumors she had heard over the years, but a shadow in his eyes, the way Marly glanced over at Brock, the way his eyes flickered guiltily in Sarah’s direction. Had he taken her today, Sarah wondered furiously. Had he relieved the lust he claimed he had for her with another woman?

  She met Brock’s eyes across the distance separating them, anger storming over her. She watched him sigh, a slow careful heave of his chest, a flash of pain in his eyes. Bastard. He was no better than Mark. There he sat with the woman he likely screwed on a regular basis, watching her like she had hurt him. Tears burned at her eyes, tightened her chest, and she wanted to scream with the unfairness of it.

  “Sarah, you just dazed out on me.” Dillon Carlyle sat across the table from her, lounging casually in his chair, watching her with an expression that clearly showed his amusement.

  He was more handsome than he had a right to be, with his thick black hair and brilliant green eyes. He was almost as tall as Brock, but cockier, more cynical rather than shadowed.

  “You knew he would be here.” She turned back to him, almost shaking with anger as she picked up her wineglass and finished it off quickly.

  Dillon lifted a brow, then refilled the glass. She took a healthy drink of it as well.

  “Actually, I wasn’t certain,” he told her, his lips quirking in a smile. “But I was curious about the rumors circulating.”

  If he weren’t her brother, she would kill him. She might just do it anyway.

  “What rumors?” she bit out, trying to pretend they didn’t exist.

  His look chided her. He knew her too well and she had never appreciated how easily he used the information when he wanted something from her.

  “Oh, the little ones that say you’ve joined the August family.” He shrugged, watching her carefully. He seemed worried though. Hell, she didn’t blame him, she was worried. “Have you, Sarah?”

  Sarah flushed. She felt the heat begin in her neck and work its way to her hairline. She couldn’t get away from it, no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t escape Brock or what he wanted. She felt pummeled from every direction and she was growing weaker by the day.

  “No.” She drank more of the wine, ignoring the once appetizing pasta that sat in front of her.

  “Are you thinking about it?” He frowned now as he watched her. “You seem pretty upset over him.”

  “No.” She wasn’t even considering it. Damn Brock. Damn Dillon for bringing her here. Damn her aching, for wanting to give Brock August whatever he wanted in return for the pleasure that sang through her body at his touch. In return for the look of approval, the flare of emotion that came to his eyes when he touched her. Like he finally had all he ever wanted in her arms. A lie. It was all a lie, and she couldn’t make herself accept it.

  “I think you are.” He was suddenly serious. “Do you know what you’re getting into, Sarah?”

  She glanced at him, then her eyes went back to Brock. He was watching her, his gaze hot and intense. God, she hated it when he did that. It made her ache, made her want what she knew she couldn’t have. What Marly was clearly comfortable with.

  “I’m a moron.” She lifted the glass again, taking a healthy drink of more wine.

  She was insane to be so aroused when she was so pissed off. She was insane to allow herself to be drawn into this. She knew what was happening, knew what he was trying to do to her. Why was she allowing it?

  Her gaze flicked to Dillon’s concerned one. His green eyes had darkened, narrowed on her.

  “Don’t look at me that way, Dillon,” she bit out. “I’m not one of your puzzles.”

  “You’ve always been a puzzle, darling,” he said softly. “I’ve wondered for years actually, why it hadn’t happened sooner. Brock used an incredible amount of self control to stay away from you until the divorce.”

  “God, did everyone know?” She rubbed her brow, trying to fight the tension she could feel gathering there.

  “Not everyone, Sarah.” He leaned closer, his elbows resting on the table as he watched her. “A few of us, though. A very few who are part of his circle of friends.”

  Fear leapt into her heart. Her eyes widened.

  “No, Sarah.” He shook his head slowly. “Just friends. The August men don’t share their women. They are incredibly greedy.”

  Hah, that was a good one.

  “Not greedy enough,” she muttered.

  She looked at him again. He was watching Dillon now, a harsh frown on his face.

  “He’s very angry with me.” There was an edge of resignation in his voice. “I hope he doesn’t break my nose too.”

  “What?” She looked at him in surprise, her gaze going to the small flaw in an otherwise straight, aristocratic nose.

  “Cade broke it over Marly.” He grinned, intercepting her look. “I wrecked the Harley with her on it while trying to make him jealous.”

  She kept her mouth closed only by sheer strength of will.

  “Why did you wreck the Harley?” That one had always confused her.

  He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter now. She was on it. When he found us, she was hysterical, crying. Man, don’t make Marly cry, that guy freaks out.”

  She grimaced. She had no desire to hear anymore about the other woman. She knew too much about her the way it was.

  “Dillon, your life is too exciting to suit me,” she said.

  Glancing at Brock again, their eyes met. She frowned at the anger she saw there, the possessiveness. Ownership. She gritted her teeth. Turning her head she lifted the wine glass and drained it.

  Dillon just looked at the glass when she set it down pointedly.

  “You’ve had enough,” he said softly.

  “That isn’t your call, Dillon,” she told him firmly. “Pour another one or I’ll do it myself.”

  He sighed heavily, reaching for the wine bottle.

  “I’m sure glad you’re a classy drunk, Sarah, I have a feeling you have high intentions of tying one on.” He poured the wine, then sat back and watched as she sipped heavily from it.

  “I’m not a classy drunk,” she denied, casting him a hateful look. She sent Brock one for added measure, ignoring his surprised look, and the amusement on Marly’s face as she whispered something to Brock.

  Sarah’s fists clenched at the easy familiarity the woman displayed to him. Cade was sitting beside her, his eyes dark, considering, as he watched Sarah. She wanted to ignore the flare of curiosity that look ignited, but she was just drunk enough to admit to it. God, she needed to be committed. She emptied her glass.

  “Sarah, let me take you home.” Dillon’s voice was incredibly sympathetic.

  “I’m pitiful, huh?” She sighed deeply, avoiding his gaze. “I can’t keep my eyes off him, Dillon.”

  She wouldn’t cry, she assured herself. She had known the rules going in, she just hadn’t expected the pain.

  “He hasn’t been any better in the last six years, Sarah, he just never let you see it. I remember days I saw him outside the library, watching you leave. There were many times I sat with him, watching him try to drown the need with liquor.”

  Surprise filled her. She had never seen him, never knew he watched her, talked about her. What had he said? Why had he even cared?

  “You never said anything,” she whispered. “Does he know you’re my brother?” Sarah knew Dillion told few people of their relationship. For reasons Sarah was never certain of, her parents had rarely spoken of the relationship to anyone.

  He shrugged. “I never told him. As far as I know, he’s unaware of it. But I didn’t tell you about it because
I knew you ran from him. I knew what he wanted from you, Sarah, and I’ve never been certain it was what you wanted. Until now.”

  “It’s not what I want.” Her voice lacked the strength she wished she could put into it.

  He covered her hand with his. He watched her, sympathy and understanding in his look.

  “Sarah, they are tormented men. What they do isn’t out of depravity. It isn’t out of perversion. They’re good men.”

  “Then why do they do it?” she whispered, sliding her hand back when she caught Brock’s near violent look at their clasped hands. “Tell me why.”

  “That one would get me killed.” He sighed roughly. “But I promise you this, if he doesn’t tell you soon, then I will. You deserve that much. Now, are you ready to go home?”

  Self-pity welled inside her. She played with her empty glass, her fingers running slowly up and down the slender base as she watched the motion. She wouldn’t watch him, wouldn’t die to have him. But she was. She knew she was.

  “Okay.” She finally nodded. “I’m ready to go anyway. If that woman keeps touching his shoulder I’m going to pull her hair out by her roots.”

  She ignored Dillon’s amused chuckle. She stood to her feet as he came behind her, proud of her steady feet as he helped her from her chair. She smoothed her silk dress down her thighs and turned to him with a thankful smile.

  “We should have brought the Harley,” he told her with a smile as he put his hand at her back and led her from the room. “We could have gone for a ride.”

  “I like the truck more.” She shrugged. “Remember when we used to go up to Uncle Chas’s farm and race?”

  Dillon laughed.

  “Yeah, I remember.” His reflective voice had her missing those years as she stepped outside the restaurant and felt the warm summer air.

  “We need to do that again one night,” she sighed.

  “You say that every time you get tipsy, Sarah,” he chided her. “One of these nights, I’m going to hold—“

  “Dillon.” Brock was suddenly standing there. Tall, fierce, frowning as he watched Sarah lean against him for support.

  Dillon sighed. “She’s not crying, Brock. I’d like to keep my nose in reasonable shape.”

  Sarah frowned as she watched a smile creep over Brock’s lips.

  “It’s none of his business, Dillon,” she sniffed. “Let him go find a girl of his own. “ The irony of that statement had the men exchanging a telling glance.

  “Deviants,” she muttered, catching the look. “Go away, Brock. You’re annoying me.”

  Surprise registered on Brock’s face as Dillon smothered his laughter.

  “Is she drunk?” he asked Dillon suspiciously.

  “I am not drunk, I am just a shade tipsy,” she informed him regally. “That’s all.”

  “She’s a very lady-like drunk,” Dillon told Brock with mock seriousness.

  “I am always lady-like,” she told them both with a disdainful tone.

  Brock crossed his arms over his chest, watching her from lowered brows.

  They were standing in the parking lot, close to Dillon’s truck, but closer to Brock’s jeep. Her face flamed remembering what had happened in the front seat of that jeep.

  “I’m ready to go home.” She moved away from Dillon’s support, very proud of the fact that she walked reasonably straight. “Come along, Dillon, maybe I’ll let you tuck me in.”

  At first, the whacking sound of a blow didn’t register in her mind.

  “Dammit, you fucking hit me.” She heard Dillon’s outraged voice a second after the sound of flesh connecting to flesh.

  “At least I didn’t break your fucking nose,” Brock bit out furiously. “Keep your perverted ass away from her.”

  “Me? Perverted?” Dillon wheezed. “That’s a low blow coming from you, you black-hearted bastard.”

  Sarah turned slowly. Dillon was resting against the back of a Suburban, gasping, his hand clutched over his waist. Brock was staring at him furiously.

  “Neanderthal,” she bit out. “Why did you hit him?”

  “What the hell are you doing offering to let him tuck you in?” he growled.

  Sarah frowned. “He always tucks me in when I get drunk. He even sings to me if I ask him to.”

  Surprised fury registered on Brock’s face, disgruntlement on Dillon’s.

  “Fuck, Sarah,” Dillon moaned. “Keep your damned voice down.”

  Brock’s face reflected surprise.

  “Why the hell would he do that?” Brock was almost yelling.

  “Because he’s my brother, moron. My mother divorced his father, and he took Dillon away from her before she met my father. Happy?”

  Brock angled his head, looking hard at Dillon.

  “There’s no family resemblance,” he mumbled.

  “Geeze, you’re pissing me off. Go back inside and let Miss Marly paw you some more. I have better things to do.”

  “She’s almost a Mrs. Marly now, Sarah,” Dillon reminded her breathlessly.

  Sarah flashed him a killing look. She’d skin him alive if he didn’t shut up.

  “I’ll tuck her in, just to be certain your nose stays intact.” Brock patted Dillon’s shoulder and moved around him.

  “Brock.” Sarah recognized the steel in Dillon’s voice now. Evidently Brock did as well.

  “What?” Brock frowned.

  “It’s Sarah’s choice who she goes home with. I won’t let you force her into one.” Dillon stood straight now. “A playful tap here and there is fine. But you hit me over my sister again and I’ll take you out.”

  Violence thrummed in the air between the two men.

  “Sarah?” Brock turned back to her.

  He wouldn’t let her leave without him; she could see it on his face. She could leave with him, or he and Dillon would fight.

  “Don’t. Please,” she whispered, staring up at his dark face.

  “I swear, I won’t do anything you don’t want, Sarah. But we have to talk. We have to.”

  She heaved a hard, desperate sigh.

  “Fine.”

  “Sarah, are you sure?” Dillon asked her quietly. “Be sure about this.”

  He would stand between her and Brock, she knew. But what would be the point? Brock was determined and she was weak. It would happen eventually, no matter how hard she tried to avoid it.

  “Go away, Dillon.” Brock turned to the other man, frowning.

  Dillon merely watched her, ignoring Brock’s defensive attitude.

  “I’m sure,” she mumbled. She wasn’t, but what the hell? It was too late to claim maidenly virtue, and she was just relaxed enough to be dangerous. She hated being dangerous.

  “Come on.” Brock led her to the jeep, unlocking the door and helping her in.

  She watched through the rearview mirror as he and Dillon exchanged words, then he was getting in as well and starting the ignition.

  “Can we go someplace and talk first?” he asked her.

  “About what?”

  “About us, Sarah. We need to talk about us.” He glanced at her as he set the jeep in motion, driving through the parking lot.

  “There’s nothing to talk about.” She stared outside the tinted glass, watching his dark reflection within it. “You want what you want, I want what I want. They are not compatible wants, Brock.”

  “You act like I’m asking you to jump immediately into an orgy,” he sighed.

  “More or less how I feel.” She shrugged, determined not to be hurt. She couldn’t bear the hurt.

  Brock was silent then and Sarah knew he was trying to figure out what to say, what to do to make her listen to him. She had no desire to hear it.

  He cleared his throat.

  “Women fantasize about the very things I’m offering you.” He sounded as though he were reciting from a script.

  She looked over at him cautiously, wondering if he had lost his senses.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.” He frown
ed. “It’s a favorite sexual fantasy for women. That of being with more than one man at a time.”

  Sarah blinked, wondering what catastrophic event had thrown him into insanity. He had never seemed crazy before. A bit intense, but not insane. What was his problem tonight?

  “Look, Brock, I fantasize about fucking Worf from that science fiction show, but the actual man does nothing for me. Does this tell you anything?” she asked him with exaggerated patience.

  “Size isn’t everything, Sarah,” he bit out, offended. “I satisfied you plenty with what I have. I’m not exactly hot dog-sized, here.”

  Sarah shook her head. Where the hell had this conversation got off track? Hot dog-sized? Not unless he was talking about the whole pack.

  “What the hell does that have to with anything?” she growled, exasperated.

  “You think cock size is more important—“

  “My God, can you get any stranger tonight.” She stared at him as though he were an alien species. What the hell was his problem?

  “You know, as tight as your cunt is around me, I don’t think you could handle a bigger dick.” He was still clearly outraged.

  Sarah shook her head.

  “I’ll figure that one out later,” she sighed. “I think you finally lost your mind though.”

  “Most likely,” he bit out. “If I don’t fuck you soon I expect to sprout fangs and start howling at the moon. Dammit, Sarah, I’m dying.”

  How could he be dying? He shared his brother’s lover. He had been home most of the day, with Marly available, willing— She fought her bitter cry.

  “You fucked her today. I know you did. Don’t act frustrated and temperamental on me, Brock. “ Sarah was near tears now. How could he be so desperate for her after fucking another woman? His brother’s woman?

  Silence filled the vehicle.

  “How did you know?” he finally asked her, his voice quiet.

  “Because I know how you look after being satisfied.” She gritted her teeth, fighting her anger.

  “And I know how you look.” He glanced over at her, his face suddenly intent, almost bleak. “And how you would look, Sarah, if my brothers touched you. I’m not asking for more than I’ll give.”