Hotter Than Sin - Eve Montelibano

Chapter 11

I'M A DEPRAVED BASTARD.

More than two years had passed and I still felt the same. Not a tad different than the night I kissed her in Paris...or the night in my penthouse when the unthinkable happened...when I showered her with my— Fuck, Not even five minutes with her and I was already full of perverted thoughts about her. That was the name of the game now. I lived it everyday. There were no more faithful couple plaguing humanity than sin and guilt. But no amount of self-castigation could alter the state of the matter. I was still a depraved bastard, coveting what I had no right to covet.

I watched her walk towards me, her long, auburn hair billowing behind her like a silk cape as the chopper's rotor whipped the wind, pushing her dress to delineate the bumps and curves of her young, voluptuous body. My cock grew bigger and bigger in my pants, a hungry monster awakening in and out of me.

Calver followed behind her, making sure she came out of the rotor's radius safely.

She stopped a few meters in front of me and gave me a once-over too knowing for her age. She'd been certainly living the young, free and single lifestyle in New York, something that had left a bitter taste in my mouth the past years, but my frustration and disapproval were now bottled up and unexpressed. I had lost the right to reprimand her when I touched her.

"Hello, Uncle Brand."

"Hello, Rish. Welcome to Crescent Moon."

She combed her fingers through her hair, removed her big sunglasses and scanned her surroundings lazily before meeting my eyes again. "It's beautiful," she uttered softly, but her gaze bored into me with barely veiled malice, and I knew she was referring to something else. Me. She despised me so beautifully I could taste it.

"Did you have a nice flight?" I asked for lack of anything to say. Small talk had never been our thing. We used to talk a lot and then Paris happened. It had been downhill since then.

"A little bumpy, but nothing I can't handle." Her smile was suggestive. "You know how I like bumpy rides, Uncle Brand."

There was a time when 'uncle' sounded normal and pure coming from her lips, but it hadn't been like that for some time now. Her calling me thus no longer felt right. How could it feel right with this steely pole in my pants that she'd sprung the moment she stepped out of the chopper? 'Uncle' sounded like a fucking verbal foreplay for a cheap porn flick catering to old, perverted men now, dirty and low. Very low.

"Thank you for sending your chopper to fetch me from Singapore."

I shrugged. "I could have sent my jet to fetch you from New York."

"Nah. I like flying commercial. I'm used to it."

"Yeah, you've been all over the world on your own, for sure," I said, not hiding my disapproval. Mariah and Ken had given her more freedom than I would have preferred.

She flicked her hair. "It's liberating. I'd learned a lot from being on my own."

Liberating. I didn't like the sound of that one bit. Just how liberated she'd been, I didn't care to find out. I did what I could to safeguard her wherever she went but what happened in the privacy of her hotel rooms with whoever she was with, I didn't have much idea.

What do you care? She was no longer a minor. She was almost twenty-one. Old enough to decide for herself. What's the matter? Peeved that she'd learned "things" from someone else, not you? Come on, now.

"Come. Cal will take care of your luggage." I turned away from her, angry at myself all over again, hating her presence, craving it. God, I'd missed her. It had been several months since I last saw her and it was getting more and more difficult as days passed by.