Every little thing from me stirs a reaction inside her.

I wait a long moment before speaking.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep,” she whispers. “Thought I’d check on her.”

Anger boils beneath my skin, from her words, from the way they fuck with my head, but I hold it back, moving my hands to her hips and reminding myself they don’t belong there.

She tenses, but doesn’t resist, allowing me to spin her around, still blocking her in with my chest.

It takes her a second, but then her eyes, a brown, almost golden color, the same shade of brown sugar, lift to mine.

I grind my teeth together as I bring a hand up, running my knuckle against the edge of her curved jaw, flexing mine when her pupils dilate before me. For me.

She’d be so easy to please, I can nearly fucking taste it.

Her lips, perfectly pouty, forever rusty red in color, part.

I swallow a growl and allow my fingers to trail lower.

Victoria gives a subconscious tilt of her head, granting me easier access to her neck as she stares, a little unsure and a lot hopeful.

Once I reach her collarbone, I slip a piece of her silky blonde hair between my fingers and force my gaze to soften as much as I can control.

Every inch of her settles.

Just like I wanted.

“I want to fuck you, Beauty,” I whisper, anger causing my pulse to jump, because damn if it’s as true as it is a lie. “So bad.”

Her eyes widen, completely caught off guard.

“I’ve been thinking about it for weeks, can’t stop,” I admit, tugging on the smooth strand a little. “I wanna lay you on my bed, run my hands through your hair, and pull your body close.” I slide my arms behind her back and do just that.

She melts into me as I drop my face in the crook of her neck, and her grip flies to my biceps.

“I wanna kiss your throat, like this.” I run my lips across her skin, and she shivers.

The hold she has on me tightens as I glide my mouth higher, back to her earlobe, and I have to bite into my tongue to keep it from sneaking a taste.

“I wanna strip you bare,” I rasp. “Have you... bare.”

Her hard swallow brings a smirk to my lips.

She tugs on my arms, trying to bring me in more, but I’m already flush against her.

I remove my hands, placing them back on the wall while keeping my body pressed to hers. She’s not wearing a bra, so her pebbled nipples are felt on my naked skin through her sleep shirt, and I clench my thighs as a way not to focus on the feeling.

“Wanna know what I’d do next?”

Her answer is a whispered moan.

“I’d flip you over, fill you from behind.”

She nods, breathless.

“And once I’m inside...” I drop my palms to the curve of her ass and she squirms. “Smashed between this tight ass, and your slick spine is arched and begging, I’d run my hand up your back until I reached your hair, so I could wrap it around my fist and pull. And, Victoria, baby...” I breathe, and she shivers, leaving marks on my biceps as her nails dig in. “I’d stare right at the back of your head... imagining I was fucking an entirely. Different. Blonde.”

She turns hard as fucking stone.

She doesn’t breathe, doesn’t dare move, and neither do I.

I keep her there, trapped, a long moment before I slowly push away, letting my hands fall as I take a backward step, eyes icy and on hers.

“In case you weren’t aware, my daughter’s blonde didn’t only come from me,” I speak with no emotion.

She stares, still stuck with her back to the wall, palms planted flat against it.

“Her mom’s name was Mallory, and her hair was just as long as yours.” I tilt my head, regarding her with a coolness I hope gives her frostbite. “Just as blonde. Maybe a bit shinier,” I callously add.

She’s good though, has the whole ‘hide what’s real’ thing down well, and recovers quickly, a mask sliding over her dark eyes.

“If that’s what you need to do, do it.” She steps forward, shoulders held high as she places herself directly in front of me. “You wanna play pretend, need me to be her for a night or two, I’m game. Use me.”

A dark chuckle escapes me, and her fingers anxiously tap at her upper thigh, but stop when she realizes I’ve noticed.

“Use you, huh?” I take my time bringing my eyes back to hers. “That what you want?”

“I’m used to it.”

“Not from me, you’re not.”

She fights not to let her frown free, the muscles in her cheeks twitching as she prepares to snap at me. “I said I don’t mind.”

I move toward her, and she doesn’t budge when I reach out to tuck her hair behind her ear, my gaze locked on hers. I leave it there for several seconds until, yet again, her guard slips the slightest bit.

This girl has little to no control of herself where I’m concerned.

Won’t take much to erase it completely.

I lean in, stopping once I can speak against her lips.

“Victoria Vega...” I breathe and her chest rises with a deep inhale. “Such a pretty. Little. Liar.”

Chapter 2

Victoria

Little liar.

Captain’s words have been on repeat since they were whispered into the dark.

Am I a liar?

The simple answer is yes, but who runs around sharing secrets so easily?

I might have grown up in a different world with different rules than they did, understood trust in an entirely singular way, but I know better than to share my soul with others. I saw firsthand what happened when you did, and it was never good.

Even the strongest are rendered weak against their greatest enemy, and the smart know exactly where this lethal threat lies—deep within your own mind.

Nothing is more dangerous to a single person than what’s hidden inside them.

They steal your humanity, rob you of your riches, hold you back from living your life, yet still, secrets are what make worlds like these, Brayshaw and the other families out there just like theirs, go round.

Every so often those hidden truths leak, and down goes the weakest link.

Not that there is one of those living inside these walls.

These boys, these brothers, they’re equally strong, but oh so different in so many ways.

Maddoc, the oldest, is the most intimidating, both visually and mentally. The green glass of his eyes and dark hair make for a menacing allure. Neither would matter, he’s even more dangerous than he looks. A simple stare from him gets in your head, forcing you to question everything you’re thinking.

Royce is the tatted, teasing party boy who never calms enough to pause, moves without thought yet still somehow every move holds purpose. He’s a hardened heart and harder fists, smiling through each hit. The dark in his eyes never brightens, though he grins as much as he glares.

And then there’s Captain.

As if built from the deepest desires of my own mind, ones I didn’t know existed until I laid my brown eyes on his Caribbean ones, a perfect mix of green and blue and ever-shifting. Tall and broad, wide shoulders and sculpted arms, his strength needs no added flare. Combine those things with his sandy blond hair, and he’s a perfect Ken Doll.