“I fucking love the way you feel, Jackie. Who cares what our parents do? The only thing that matters is us.”

His fingers continued their sojourn, slipping over her panty line and reveling in the damp of her desire as they slid past her soft split, entering the tight, welcome of her sex.

“So fucking tight.”

Her breathing changed, and she loosed a whispered moan, more of a whimper really. Answering her, he thrust his fingers deeper, claiming her with three digits as he reveled in the taste of her skin, his mouth covering the curve where neck meets shoulder. He was impossibly hard now. Ready. He really didn't give a fuck; he'd take her right here.

“Liam, I-”

“Yeah, baby?”

His eyes blinked open when he felt her hand brush his away, his fingers immediately releasing her.

“I can't do this.”

He grinned, stupidly assuming she was being coy.

“Yet, you haven't said the magic words.”

He watched her jaw clench, and she averted her eyes, but when she looked at him again, there was a steely resolve in them that made it clear he'd failed to change her mind at all.

“Walk away, Liam.”

Pushing gently against him, she slipped out of the corner he'd backed her into, and with a faltering glance back, she lifted her chin and pushed her way out of the door, practically leaving him there with his dick in his hand.

Jackie

She didn't bother to return to the breakfast table. That would be impossible after what had just taken place in the plush, lobby of the restroom. She couldn't imagine facing Liam, let alone ever talking to him again. It was perfectly insane. They'd just learned he was going to be her stepbrother, and at the first opportunity he'd had, he had his fingers up her skirt.

And she'd let him!

She obviously couldn't be trusted around him, and that left only one option: not to be. Next breakfast she was invited to, she was stepping back from. The farther the distance she could create from him, the best chance she'd have at giving them both an opportunity to move on.

There was too much chemistry between the pair to trust what was sure to go down if they found themselves in a room alone together.

Hailing the first cab she saw when she made it out of the building, she slid into its back seat and turned to spy Liam arriving at the front lobby door, calling out to her.

With a sigh, she told the driver to step on it.

~

As soon as Jackie got home, she threw herself into the recipe concoction process, glad for the distraction. Flipping a page open in her notebook, she nipped her lip and let the page fall, scanning it before grabbing the nuts, blueberries and limes. Next, she flicked on her dehydrator, giving it a purposeful look before settling back in front of her notebook.

If her mother was going to subject their business to her new creep, she might as well have some shiny new offerings to roll out. She'd need to speak with a lawyer to figure out the best way to prevent him from commodifying what she and her mother had built together, though. If there was one thing everyone knew, it was that Gary Cross couldn't be trusted.

Sighing, she flicked away the ache she was feeling.

She was failing to push Liam from her mind entirely.

His essence had a tireless way of haunting her, apparently, and it didn't help that what she truly wanted was to get in the car and head off to the tat studio he owned.

His asshole father had let it slip that “he could do better” than to live in a cube built inside of his business. So she knew where he lived now, and that was dangerous information when she was right there on the line between sticking to her guns and throwing caution to the wind like she was.

Peeling and dicing the limes, she tossed them into the giant mixing bowl she'd long named 'Hal.' Hal had been through every failed and successful recipe with her, and it had become sort of a tradition to bring him out whenever she was developing something that might actually go on the VitaGourmet menu.

She and her mom had big plans that were already winning them some handsome checks. Jackie was determined to find a way to make sure the capital they spent continued to be set aside from profits. She didn't believe accepting a cent from Gary Cross wouldn't end up slicing him a controlling share of the pie.

If he wanted in on distribution that was one thing. Helping get them in more outlets wasn't enough to give him a legal claim to them, outside of whatever amounts of bags they agreed to produce for resale. But his ownership, on any level, could destroy VitaGourmet at its heart.

With even a small percentage, he could force a name change, branding alteration, and even influence how the goods were produced. Assholes like him were the types to substitute quality ingredients for those of the subpar variation, gathered right at the edge of their expiration.

All in the name of the bottom line.

Jackie wouldn't allow that. She just couldn't.

Giving Merlin a smacking kiss on his furry head when he hopped up onto the counter, she gently brushed him off.

“You know the rules, Big Guy.”

Answering with a rumbling meow, Merlin gave her a guilt-inducing head tilt and assumed the statuesque pose that never failed to get him something out of the fridge. It was no wonder his ancestors were worshipped. Back when humans were more intelligent as a rule, ancestral forces knew which direction was smartest when looking for guidance.

Cats are born strategists.

Sighing, Jackie rinsed her hands and pulled open the fridge, scanning the paltry contents there. Settling on a jar of mushrooms she'd already cracked open, she reached down and grabbed it up.

“You're in luck, Big Guy. But that's it after this. I've got work to do.”

She served him the rest of the jar's contents in the pricey serving dish she'd bought his spoiled ass at Pier one imports, and set it on the floor by his water bowl. He answered her with a purr of approval before stretching arrogantly and making his way over to it with an air of inspection.

Pisser.

Jackie grinned and flicked on the spout with her wrist, squirting out a dollop of lemon soap from its dispenser and thoroughly scrubbed her hands. Even at home, she didn't fall out of practice with ServSafe regulations. Even though she might be the only one sampling the new, hopefully award-winning trail mix variation she was masterminding tonight.

Shutting the spout and flicking the water off of her hands, she turned back to the blue berries, sighing before setting to the task of cutting each one in half.

Cashews would go nicely with this.

She pushed past the reoccurring thoughts of Liam rising up in her mind, attempting to throw her back onto the fence.

She set her jaw, slicing the berries. No, Ma'am. She would not think about those fingers, those lips, that tongue. She didn't have time to dwell on the surge of electricity that rose to hum the surface of her skin from a simple glance. Didn't need to be reminded how the sound of his name buzzed through her and settled in her gut.

Setting the knife down, she leaned against the counter and sighed.

She was in trouble.

And thanks to dear old mom's exceedingly poor choices in men, she couldn't turn back on her blooming inner diva if she wanted to. Because even if she might be okay with having a relationship with a man who would be her stepbrother in less than a month, the nightmare it would cause in the media for their businesses just wasn't something she could risk.

Frowning, she drew up the knife again and sliced into another blueberry.