“I—no! Tristan I can’t—” she tried to say as I pulled her into a tight embrace. I could feel her body tensing as I pulled her against me, and I distinctly hear her let out a little gasp. More like a squeak, really—that same mousy sound she used to make whenever I got too close, like that night in the kitchen before I left for Afghanistan. She’d been making that sound, and so many more, and as soon as I heard it, something dark and primal pulsed through my groin. Was Gwen still hot for me after all this time?
Interesting, I thought, trying to hide the smirk on my face. Knowing my goody two-shoes stepsister still wanted me was validating, to say the least. And intriguing…
“Have a seat, please,” she said, her voice stiff as I pulled out of the embrace. Her face was flushed as she tried to straighten her outfit, her hands trembling. I knew I had a mission—a goal that all of this was for—but seeing Gwen after all of this time brought back the thoughts I’d get when I caught her staring at me as we grew up. She’d been so awkward, all arms and legs as a teen, but about the time she turned eighteen something had happened. All of a sudden she had curves and an ass that I would have killed to get my hands on. All of this, however, was stymied by the fact that on no circumstances was I allowed to lay a land on sweet little Gwennie, no matter how much I would have liked to. She was my stepsister, and the scandal alone would have gotten me disowned right before it gave my father a coronary.
That only served to make me want it more.
“I have a few questions I need to ask you before we can get you matched with one of the women I have on our client list. Just standard personality question on what you’re looking for in a match,” she said, clicking a few times on her mouse.
“Ask away,” I said, leaning back in the comfortable office chair opposite her. “I’m an open book.”
“Two open for his Lordship’s liking, I would say,” Gwen whispered, though must have realized how loudly she’d said it all too late. “I… I mean…”
“It’s all right,” I assured her, smiling a bit as I relaxed. “I know very well what my father thinks of me.”
Gwendolyn must have gotten more than her share of tirades about my behavior after I provided scandal after scandal for the entertainment of the country. It was one of my favorite pastimes, to be quite honest; often, I would wonder how much I would have to do in order to put my father into an early grave.
My stepsister shifted in her seat before clearing her throat.
“Are you looking for a woman who is among the aristocracy?” she asked, trying to refocus herself back onto the task at hand. It was almost adorable the way she tried not to think about how much she still wanted me.
“Not necessarily, but I wouldn’t be opposed, no,” I said, my eyes trailing over the line of her blouse, imagining the way she looked naked. “So long as they didn’t have their head up their ass.”
“Any interests you’d like to share with your potential matches?”
“Well, I do love a good football match,” I said, smirking as I watched her eyes flicking toward me every now and then from her screen. “And I suppose a healthy enjoyment of literature is a bit of a must-have. After that, maybe an enjoyment of classical music.”
“When have you ever liked literature?” she asked, her eyebrows raised incredulously.
“Since always and forever, my dear stepsister,” I said, my grin widening as her substantial shock to such news. “It’s always been one of my secret loves.”
In fact I’d gotten top marks in every literature course since primary school, a fact that my father never once gave one lick of attention to. He’d have much rather focus on my failings than congratulate me for my accomplishments.
She blushed deeply and cleared her throat again, trying not to let her mind dwell too long on the fact that I was sitting here while she was almost drunk off of her ass. I wondered just how easily it would be to get her to take those clothes off. I knew I could if I tried, and I knew that I’d have enjoyed it… but there was another task at hand. As much as I wanted to claim Gwendolyn, I knew business had to come first, and sadly, a sense of propriety along with it.
“Any preferred physical type?” she asked, swallowing thickly as I considered.
“A redhead, preferably. A woman who’s about my height—maybe slightly shorter—curvy rather than skinny, I think,” I said, pondering just what I’d always fancied in the women I’d bedded countless times.
“I see,” she said, her cheeks still flushed a nice rosy pink with embarrassment. “I think that’s about all that I have right now… If I need to narrow things down a little more, then I’ll contact you.”