The Cursed Cross (Cross 2)

4 - Damages

Jimmy wanted to savor every moment while it lasted. Drinking the champagne off Tate's gorgeously smooth skin was a fantasy come true. Never had he had foreplay like that, and he had lots of foreplay. Lapping from her gorgeous back held an intimacy he had never experienced.

He dated women, but not for long. One or the other needed something and once the need was granted the romance fizzled. He was not afraid to use sex as a negotiation tool. His reputation was true, and he earned every rebuke he received. It was a miracle his mother still loved him.

Tate Kane needed nothing from him except a distraction, but he didn't seduce her for selfless reasons. Jimmy Sinclair was rarely selfless. At least the public Jimmy. The real Jimmy would do anything for the people he loved. Tate was right he would save them all, but he learned at six it wasn't possible. Losing his brother, Matty, when he was so young and helpless left a mark on his family. The only thing that held them together was love. Money didn't help grief.

He flopped on his back hoping the angel beside him would wipe away his dark cloud. If only they weren't so stubborn, because they understood each other at a level no one else ever could.

She climbed on top, and frowned. "Don't go there. Not now when I'm so aroused."

He laughed. Her sweet voice pushed the clouds away. "Baby, have your way with me."

Christ, she did, and he was the one who rode horses. He imagined her long hair flowing behind her as they raced side by side across the field. He would save that fantasy for another day while he savored so many others finally coming true. The number of times he jerked off to thoughts of her riding him was staggering. Most often, he was alone in a hotel room wishing he had something to go home to besides a butler who refused to smile.

When the knock on the door filled the room, Tate was lying on top of him with her chest heaving. She giggled and stood up. "Just leave it. Thank you." Then she whispered, "I'm famished."

They had eaten only a little of the cake, but had destroyed most of it in the box and on the table. Some chunks were on the rug. He would pay for the damages. A narrative which hid his involvement formed in his head.

Tate put on the hotel bathrobe to step into the hall for the room service cart. He stood and found his boxers. Sitting in a hotel chair ass naked didn't suit a Sinclair. Knowing Tate, she would keep her robe on to eat. Some things were ingrained deeply and their backgrounds were the same.

He looked at the cart. "Why three?"

She shrugged. "One was too lonely and two was a reminder so I blurted three."

He smiled. "So this is what I missed."

She frowned. "It isn't very special. It looks like Saturday night in any ballroom in Boston for name that cause."

Jimmy laughed and cut a piece of beef. "It's good though. Why?" He shook his head.

"Why what? I think we're past small talk."

"Fine. Why him?"

Tate stabbed an asparagus spear with enough force to kill. "I don't know. Yesterday I did, but I suddenly forgot. I'm furious and humiliated."

"It's not your fault."

She shook her head. "I chose him. I should blame Kasper. He encouraged me."

"Baxter didn't."

"I should have listened to the right brother. He can't know about us. He might get righteous and try to kill you."

Jimmy laughed. "I won't tell him I violated his little sister fifty different ways."