“There’s something you should know first too.” Remy’s voice was huskily soft. “The one time I’ve done this before was awful.”

  Sinclair’s head rose sharply. “One time?”

  She huffed. “Told you virginity was subjective.”

  His eyes narrowed. “How subjective is yours?”

  She chewed on her bottom lip for several seconds before answering him. “Like any student, I was pleased to leave home and finally be out on my own and able to make my own decisions, etc. But I was also angry. At you, mainly, because you’d disappeared from my life. I had a professor at the time who looked a little like you.”

  “How little?”

  “Not much at all, really, except for the being a lot older than me.” She gave a self-derisive huff. “As it turned out, that was the only way in which he was like you.”

  “Why?”

  She breathed out a heavy sigh. “Because he was a selfish arsehole who didn’t care whether or not the woman with him attained the same pleasure he did as long as he could pound her into the mattress.” She shrugged. “He just had a thing for much younger girls who he liked to call him Daddy when they were in bed together.”

  “Which is why you told me you weren’t looking for a Daddy.”

  She shuddered. “Yes.”

  Sinclair was having a little trouble taking all this in. But one thing seemed clear. “Blowjobs or anal sex?”

  “No.”

  “Just one selfish bastard who liked to take advantage of and fuck his female students?”

  “Yes.” She seemed relieved that he now understood what she was trying to tell him.

  As happy as Sinclair was that he would, effectively, be Remy’s first lover, he didn’t like the fact that she’d been taken advantage of by a man in a position of power who was ultimately a predator and liked to take advantage of his female students. “It only happened the once?”

  She gave another shudder. “I certainly didn’t go back for an encore.”

  “Is he still at the university?”

  “He was when I— No, Sinclair.” She sat up to look at him. “You can’t go around offing people because they took advantage of your girlfriend.” Color immediately entered her cheeks when she realized what she’d said. “I know I’m not your girlfriend. I just… It was…Oh, to hell with it!” She wrinkled her nose cutely. “Can I be your girlfriend?” She looked at him hopefully.

  Sinclair was still reeling from the speed with which this relationship had begun so soon after meeting Remy again. But he also wasn’t stupid. Remy was beautiful inside and out, and within just the few short hours of meeting each other again, he knew that she was also totally honest, to the point of placing herself in the vulnerable position of having told him exactly how she’d always felt about him.

  “You’re a woman, Remy, not a girl.”

  “So?” She eyed him hopefully.

  This woman’s honesty really might be the death of him. “So I suggest we consider ourselves lovers, because I certainly can’t be classed as a boyfriend.”

  A slow and beatific smile curved her lips. “I really like the sound of that.”

  So did Sinclair. He also hoped he didn’t do or say anything to fuck this up.

  Remy was one of a kind, and he already cared about her and wanted her more than he had any other woman. Ever.

  They made love to each other slowly and thoroughly. Not an inch of flesh remained untouched by either lips or hands.

  “My turn,” a kneeling Remy announced only seconds before she parted her lips and took Sinclair’s cock into the wet heat of her mouth.

  “God…” Sinclair groaned, his back arching, the sheet beneath him clenched in his fists as Remy made love to him.

  She had one hand wrapped about his length as her head bobbed slowly up and down, her other hand cupping and squeezing his balls.

  “Are you sure you haven’t done this before?” Sinclair groaned again as he felt his imminent release as a prickling sensation at the base of his spine.

  Remy shook her head as she looked up at him with laughing eyes, her cheeks hollowing out as she sucked his cock deeper and harder.

  His release shot fiercely down the length of his cock, pulse after pulse of hot cum pumping into Remy’s mouth to be swallowed down greedily.

  Sinclair slumped back against the pillows to watch Remy as she slowly and thoroughly licked up any stray drops of cum that might have escaped her mouth.

  “Delicious,” she murmured as she sat back on her heels. “Did I not do it right?” She eyed his still-hard and throbbing cock.

  “You made love to me perfectly,” he assured gruffly. “I think my cock just doesn’t want to stop now it’s been woken up from years of celibacy.”

  Remy smiled shyly. “I’d like to feel you inside me now.”

  Sinclair reached out a hand to her. “Then climb up here and take me.”

  There seemed to be a wealth of unspoken words behind that comment, but Remy was too aroused, too needy, to want to think about that now.

  Instead, she moved to straddle Sinclair’s thighs. She watched him from beneath lowered lids as she placed her palms flat against his chest and began to rock backward and then forward, so that the silky heat of his cock rubbed against the sensitivity of her swollen clit. She rocked forward over and over again, her juices adding lubrication to the friction, her climax building, growing stronger, until it exploded, holding her in the thrall of waves of such intense pleasure, it took her several long seconds to regain her breath.

  “Lift up for me,” Sinclair instructed softly, waiting until she’d done so before curling his fingers around his cock and lining the head up with the relaxed opening to her channel. “Tell me to stop if it hurts you,” he told her huskily. “I never want to do anything that might hurt you.”

  Remy knew in that moment of Sinclair’s gentleness that, whether he realized yet it or not, he loved her. Maybe not as much as she loved him yet, but certainly enough for now.

  She lowered herself slowly, stilling for a few seconds, after the wide cockhead penetrated the lips of her channel. Once she became used to the intrusion, she moved lower still, until the whole of that hot length was inside her.

  She felt full, taken, claimed, as, with Sinclair’s steadying hands on her hips, she slowly began to rock up and down on that throbbing length. She rocked faster, and then faster still, her pleasure intensifying as that steely length rubbed along the sensitive bundle of nerves inside her.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful.” Sinclair’s eyes glittered with heat as he looked up at her. “I can’t get enough of you,” he gasped. “Need you, Remy. I need you so fucking much,” he groaned.

  Remy felt his cock become impossibly wider and harder, possessing every inch of her, so long it felt as if that bulbous head was pressed against the opening to her womb.

  Just the thought of one day being pregnant with Sinclair’s child sent her flying over the edge of her release, the convulsing of her inner muscles tightening around Sinclair’s cock and taking him with her.

  “What the fuck!” Sinclair swore as, having battled his way through several layers of sleep, the loud and intrusive thumping of a fist on his bedroom door continued.

  Telling him that in all likelihood, the person doing that consistent banging on the wood was Malachi.

  Opening his eyes to the brightness of the sun shining into the bedroom, because he’d forgotten to draw the curtains the previous night, wasn’t particularly pleasant either.

  “What is it?”

  Looking at the woman in the bed beside him, finding Remy looking up at him with sleepy blue, warm, loving eyes, was so much more than pleasant.

  Remy not only looked beautifully tousled, but also as if she’d been well loved for most of the night.

  Because she had, the two of them having made love twice more after that first time, each wilder than the last.

  Remy’s lips were slightly puffy this morning, and there was a slight redness to her throat from the chafing of his overnight stubble against her softer skin. Sinclair knew he’d left several love bites on her neck and thighs too.

  Well…perhaps they weren’t love bites, because Sinclair still didn’t quite trust his own feelings for her as yet, but he and Remy had definitely made love together long into the night and early morning before falling asleep in each other’s arms.

  “Oh, to hell with this.” An impatient Malachi, obviously having grown tired of knocking and not being invited to enter, now threw open the door, only to come to a halt in the doorway when he found himself the focus of Sinclair’s disapproving gaze.

  “I’m getting a lock put on that door,” Sinclair muttered.

  “Whatever.” Unabashed, Malachi strode across the bedroom before coming to a halt beside the bed. “Morning, Remy.”

  “Morning, Malachi.” She gave him a self-conscious wave over the top of the duvet that she’d pulled up to just below her chin. Her cheeks were blushing a fiery red.

  “Liam has reported in.” Malachi wasted no such niceties as a hello to Sinclair, nor did he express any surprise at finding Remy sharing his bed. “There’s been a development.” Malachi gave a brief glance in Remy’s direction.

  “What sort of development?” she demanded suspiciously.

  “The disturbing kind.” Malachi avoided answering directly.

  “You can speak freely in front of Remy, Mal,” Sinclair instructed, knowing subterfuge really wasn’t part of his brother’s makeup. Sinclair was also determined there would never be any secrets between himself and Remy, even ones that weren’t good.

  There were still a few things Sinclair needed to tell her about the past that he hadn’t shared with her last night.

  Mainly because by the time they finished talking about Cathy and Remy had shared her lack of physical experience—something they had definitely rectified during the night!—Sinclair had desperately needed to make love with Remy.

  But also, because Remy was already dealing with enough heartache over her parents’ disappearance, the break-in at their house, and then a body being found yesterday that might or might not be either Gina or Ralph.

  Sinclair had intended telling her the rest about the past this morning. Mal’s arrival had delayed that happening, but Sinclair was determined there would be only truth between himself and Remy.

  “Okay.” The frown cleared from Mal’s brow. “Liam reported someone breaking into Remy’s apartment last night.”

  Remy huffed. “That would be Darius and Felix when they went to get some of my things to bring back here with them after the wedding reception.”

  “This was after Darius and Felix went to your apartment.”

  “What?” Remy sat up abruptly, the duvet clutched to her chest.

  Malachi nodded. “Casper has managed to hack into the security at your apartment building, and he’s brought up the footage for last night. It looks as if a man entered your apartment at two in the morning and basically wrecked it. Your apartment now looks pretty much like the carnage at your parents’ house.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “Why would someone do this?” Remy prompted, completely dazed as she stood behind a seated Casper in his room of monitors and tech equipment, staring at the screen in front of her.

  The four of them, Remy, Sinclair, Malachi, and Casper, were watching the black-and-white recording of a man wearing a balaclava to hide his face and thin gloves on his hands, striding arrogantly through her apartment. There was no sound on the recording, but that just made it more compelling to watch.

  Remy hadn’t bothered to ask how Casper had attained access to the private security images. The youngest Kingston brother had always been able to hack into any system he wanted. He had even offered to check on her GCSE exam results for her seven years ago, before they were made public. Tempting as that was, Remy had told him a firm no, thank you and waited for those results, like every other anxious sixteen-year-old. The Kingston family had no longer been a part of her life by the time it came to the results of her A levels, but even if they had, Remy would still have said no.

  Which was why she hadn’t even asked how Casper had hacked into the security at her apartment. Instead, she now watched the man on the screen going from room to room. He looked into drawers and cupboards before pulling out the contents and destroying everything that was breakable or could be ripped to pieces. Including the pictures and frames taken off the walls and the clothes in her wardrobe and drawers.

  It was just as well Darius and Felix had picked up some clothes for her the previous evening; otherwise, Remy wouldn’t have had any clothes left to wear!

  “My guess?” Casper answered her. “Whoever that is”—he nodded toward the replay of the security footage—“and taking into account the similar break-in at your parents’ house, I believe he has to be looking for something specific.”

  Remy shook her head. “I don’t have anything of value that— Whoa.” She reeled back in disbelief as she stared at the screen.

  “What is it?” Sinclair lightly grasped her arms and pulled her back against the hardness of his chest. “Remy?”

  She literally felt the blood drain from her cheeks as she couldn’t stop staring at the body language of the man on the screen as he ran his arm along the shelf in the sitting room, knocking the dozen or so framed photographs to the floor, smashing the glass. The man put the heel of his boot on the ones that didn’t smash on impact, grinding down on them until the glass splintered. He then bent to sort through the glass to pick up the individual photographs, perusing who was on them before he ripped several of them into tiny pieces. Much like some of the photographs at her parents’ house had been.

  “Remy?” Sinclair’s voice had grown sharper at her continued silence.

  She wrenched her gaze away from the image of the man who Casper, after glancing at the shock on her face, had frozen on the screen. “Do you know how he got into my apartment?”

  The youngest Kingston brother shrugged. “According to Liam, there’s no sign of anyone picking the lock, so it looks as if the man had some other way of letting himself in.”

  “How?” Sinclair grated.

  “With a key,” Remy answered after Casper gave her a rueful glance.

  “Another man has a key to your apartment?” Sinclair’s hands tightened on her arms.

  Enough so that Remy thought she would probably have bruises there later. Which was the least of her worries.

  “What man has the key to your apartment?” Sinclair demanded, fingers digging deeper into the flesh at the tops of her arms, his gaze glacial.

  Remy knew how bad this must sound to him. Just as she could see the mistrust building in his expression. A lack of trust she didn’t deserve, but knew, with the history of deceit in his marriage, Sinclair was bound to feel until he became more sure of her and her feelings for him. If he ever did.

  Which was a depressing thought.

  Because no matter how wonderful their lovemaking had been the previous night, or how much she loved him, if Sinclair couldn’t get past his lack of trust, he was going to destroy any relationship between them before it truly began.

  As for who had a key to her apartment…

  She pulled out of Sinclair’s grasp, no doubt causing more bruises, before turning to face him. “It isn’t what you think it is.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Then tell me what it is?”

  “Sin—”

  “Stay the fuck out of my business,” he barked at Casper without even glancing at him.

  Remy recognized the Sinclair now standing in front of her as being the same one she’d met at the hotel yesterday. A man with cold eyes and absolutely no softness in his expression or body. A man who admitted to having become a killer in his quest for justice for the weak or ignored.

  Remy repressed a shiver as he looked at her without an ounce of the warmth and desire with which he’d made love to her the previous night. Several times. Each time had been more intense than the last as their familiarity increased and they learned what gave the other pleasure.

  The same hands that had made love to her so gently and thoroughly were currently tightly clenched at Sinclair’s sides, as if that was the only way he could stop himself from hitting something or someone. Remy didn’t believe for a moment that he would ever physically hurt her.

  Unfortunately, the man in the security footage was another matter.

  “Let’s leave the two of them alone for a few minutes, hmm, Casper?” Malachi spoke quietly as he pushed away from the wall he’d been leaning against.

  Remy turned to look at him. Malachi gave a pointed glance at the frozen screen, telling her he knew exactly what she was going to tell Sinclair once he and Casper had gone out of the room.

  Because Sinclair was right, Malachi might not be the most sensitive when it came to emotions, but he tried to understand them by observing and analyzing. Right now, Remy believed Malachi had observed exactly the same thing she had about the image of the man on the screen.

  “Fine with me.” Casper shrugged before standing. “Call us when you’ve finished talking.”

  The two men left an awkward silence behind them, one that Sinclair’s harsh expression told Remy she would have to fill because he wasn’t going to.

  She cleared her throat before speaking. “Do all of you still have your own apartments in town?”

  “Why?”

  Remy sighed. “Sinclair, if you can’t get over your suspicion in regard to everything I do and say, then we’re over before we begin. And that isn’t a threat. It’s a fact.” She gave a pained wince. “Healthy relationships don’t exist when the people in that relationship can’t trust each other.”

  He drew in a steadying breath. “Yes, we all have apartments in town.”

  Some of the tightness eased in her chest that he’d at least answered her. She nodded. “And does anyone else have the key to your apartment?”

  “What the hell…?”

  “Sinclair, your answer is important. Please,” she prompted emotionally.