Thief:A Bad Boy Romance(114)

 

“Shame about her feeling under the weather isn’t it?” Emma sighs, and I almost want to roll my eyes at just how fucking naive she is as she smiles sweetly and sympathetically at me before letting herself into Maddie’s rooms.

 

Yeah, right, “sick”. Bullshit.

 

The worst part actually is on day two, when she apparently gets one of the damned treadmills from the gym in the basement brought up.

 

Right, because sick people need to go fucking jogging.

 

That day I get to stand there outside her door and listen to the sound of Madison fucking Adams panting while she runs. I get to stand there outside her door gritting my teeth and picturing her in fucking yoga pants or short shorts — or shit, wearing nothing — while my cock practically tears a hole in my suit. I imagine her sweat-sheened body, the flush coloring her cheeks and the tops of her breasts, or watching a rivulet of sweat trickle its way down between her perfect ass.

 

Jesus Christ, get ahold of yourself.

 

Because honestly, what the fuck is it about this girl? Why am I even doing this to myself? Yes, the sex was good — okay, fucking fantastic — but I’m still trying to figure out why I’m so hung up on it. Is it because she’s so off limits? Or is it because for once, there’s a girl that said no?

 

Maybe it’s because for once, I know this is a girl I should say no to.

 

 

 

“So, how’s guarding the princess up at the castle.”

 

It’s the next day, and I finally get a reprieve from all the shit with Maddie. Yeah, even Secret Service guys get a day off now and then.

 

I’m with Sean and Darren, both guys I know from the Marines who’ve moved into private security since coming home. And I’m trying to have fun, and trying to let loose after the fucking week I’ve had, but there’s a cloud looming over this whole night that I can’t seem to shake.

 

Pretty soon, there’s not going to be any “going out for a quick beer.” This is all going to end soon, after the announcement. Once I’m the Presidential step-son - as fucking stupid a name as that is - this is all going to change. No more job, no more fun with friends out at the bar, and no more teasing and trying to get into Madison’s panties once that goes down.

 

Well, we’ll see about that last one.

 

Darren slides me a fresh beer and punches my shoulder. “Hey, douchebag, you still paying attention?”

 

I look up with a start and flip him off as I take a pull from my beer. “What?”

 

“I said how’s playing guard dog to the princess going?”

 

It’s worth mentioning that I can’t even tell these guys about what’s going to happen. I can’t even tell the two buddies I went to war with about the fact that my dad’s about to marry the fucking President. And honestly, it’d probably improve my damn mood if I could.

 

“It’s fine, man.” I shrug. “It’s fine.”

 

“Dude, she’s fine, you mean.”

 

I scowl at Sean. “Hey, easy.”

 

“What, she is. C’mon, Hunt, it’s us, drop the Service act.”

 

“Yeah, I don’t know,” I say shrugging again and looking into my beer. “She’s—”

 

What, under my skin and into my head? The bane of my existence and the girl I can’t stop thinking about? The girl whose body I crave like a drug I can’t get?

 

My stepsister?

 

“She’s okay I guess.”

 

Sean and Darren erupt into snorts and shake their heads at me.

 

“Whatever man,” Darren says, shaking his head. “Props for being so into the job you can’t see the hottest ass to walk into that place since Marilyn Monroe.”

 

“Pretty sure that was a rumor,” I say, arching my eyebrows at him but also suddenly picturing Madison standing over an especially windy vent with a white dress on.

 

“Well, I’d say sack up and go start a few new rumors with Madison Adams, but they’d probably fuckin’ execute you if you even made a pass at that.”

 

You have no idea.

 

Sean slides his empty beer across the bar and stands from his seat. “Hunt, you’ve been cooped up in there too long, and I’m willing to bet you can’t even remember the last time you got laid.”

 

No, actually that's the fucking problem. It’s ALL I can remember.

 

Sean grins at me. “Let’s get lit up and go pick up some girls, alright?”

 

I shrug. “Nah, not feeling it tonight.”

 

He rolls his eyes. “Will you fucking listen to yourself? Jesus, Hunt! What sort of brainwashing do they make you go through for the Service, man? You’ve got two A-list wingmen, a fat White House paycheck, and a medal for getting wounded defending your fucking country. Getting you laid tonight is going to be entirely too easy.”