Scandalous (Sinners of Saint Book 3)

SHRIEKS OF LAUGHTER sounded from upstairs as I whisked a dozen eggs in my kitchen around ten on Sunday morning. I was usually up much earlier, but it was amazing how talkative and loud a group of girls could be after getting back from a club at two a.m.

I’d gotten waaaay too much detailed information about their night out—courtesy of quite a few espresso martinis, apparently—but I couldn’t deny it was nice to have the house full again. When Serena had lived here, it was never quiet, with someone always visiting.

And many times, that someone was Preston.

Beneath the shot of lust that came whenever I thought of him now was an undercurrent of guilt. Even though Serena had basically given her blessing for whatever was happening between us, he was still technically her boyfriend.

The alternative to that, though, was to come clean about what was really going on, and no way was that happening. It didn’t need to. Not when Preston and I were just enjoying each other for the time being, no strings attached.

But then I thought about the strange stab of jealousy I’d felt with him yesterday. Neither of us owed each other anything, but if I knew he was spending time in anyone else’s bed while still in mine, I’d lose my shit.

It didn’t make sense. But then again, neither did wanting my daughter’s boyfriend, a man half my age. We shouldn’t fit together as well as we did, and I had to remind myself this wasn’t something that could last.

It was fun. Casual. Hot beyond belief. And temporary.

My hand slipped, landing on the hot pan I’d been preheating on the stove, and I jerked back, cursing.

“No need to burn yourself on our account,” Serena said, entering the kitchen as footsteps bounded down the stairs after her. She grabbed a carton of orange juice out of the fridge and stopped beside me, running her hand over my back. “You need some help?”

“I think I can handle a few scrambled eggs.” I leaned in to kiss the top of her head and then poured the mixture into the hot pan.

“No eggs benny?” Victoria said, yawning as she took a seat at the kitchen island.

Leslie followed after her, her short hair wild and tangled. “Damn, I was hoping for some French toast.”

“You get scrambled, salt and peppered, with a side of fruit,” I said, pushing the eggs around with a spatula. “And bacon if I don’t burn it.”

Victoria smirked as she reached for the glass of OJ Serena pushed her way. “What happened, you gave the chef the day off?”

“The chef is right here. But if you’re looking for something fancier that charges you per night, feel free to check into one of the hotels.”

“I’m just playing, Mr. C.” Victoria tossed me a flirty wink. “Plus, I doubt any of the chefs at the hotels look as good as you in the kitchen.”

I almost choked on the coffee I’d just sipped as Serena shoved her friend in the arm. “That’s my dad you’re talking about.”

What was with the kids today? They were so damn forward. Had I ever been that way?

I thought back to some of the shit Benoit and I used to get up to, and… Okay, we’d definitely been cocky when we were running about town at their age. It was only with experience and wisdom that the loud cockiness had turned to quiet confidence. Knowing that you didn’t have to prove yourself to anyone.

“I know.” Victoria looked me over in a way that felt a little too intimate, then grinned. “But he’s gorgeous. And single. I have a pulse.”

“And it’s beating a little too fast.” Leslie laughed as she held out a plate for me to scoop some eggs onto. “Ignore her, Mr. C. She’s been on this older man kick.”

I winced at the term, and Leslie’s eyes widened.

“Not that you’re old. I mean, you’re younger than my parents. Actually, my mom would love your number if you’re not seeing anyone right now.”

Growing increasingly uncomfortable with this conversation, I eyed my daughter, who was looking at me with an arched brow, the little instigator.

“Yeah, Dad, are you seeing anyone right now?”

A flash of Preston on his knees in the storage closet came to mind, but I quickly shoved it aside before my body reacted in a highly inappropriate way.

“I don’t think my private life is an appropriate breakfast conversation.”

Victoria rested her elbow on the counter and propped her chin on her fingers. Then she batted her lashes. “How about dinner?”

“How about you eat your breakfast?” I pointed to the food in front of her. “I’m sure your stomach could do with something to soak up the alcohol you consumed last night.”

“Hmm, you’re probably right.”

I reached for a loaf of bread and unwound the tie. “Who wants toast?”

“Too many carbs,” Leslie said, and I frowned.

“Didn’t you just ask for French toast?”

She laughed and reached for a handful of grapes from the fruit platter. “Oh yeah. Fine, give me all the toast.”

As the others began to give her hell about not being able to make up her mind—with food or guys, apparently—I shook my head and popped a couple slices in the toaster. I couldn’t begin to imagine how parents with more than one child navigated things, because girls were a handful. Maybe boys too, but I didn’t have experience with that. On one hand, it was entertaining being a fly on the wall while they gossiped. On the other, when it got a little TMI, it made me want to start drinking early.

“Anyone care for some coffee?” I asked, tossing the toast slices onto the girls’ plates.

When they all answered in the affirmative, I grabbed three oversized mugs and a container of Serena’s favorite peppermint mocha creamer from the fridge.

She smiled and poured herself a generous helping into her mug. “You’re the best.”

I winked at her, but…was I? Lately, I didn’t feel that way. I felt stretched too thin between work, the Elysium, and the distraction that was Preston. Not that I was complaining about the last. It was all I could do to not text him right now.

I’d promised Serena no visitors, though, and I wasn’t sure how long the girls would be staying.

I wiped my hands on a dishtowel and rested my hip against the counter. “So, any word on the state of your apartment? Leslie’s folks said they already had a team in there to fix it before you left.”

“Thank God for connections,” Serena said, and Victoria added, “And a huge bank account.” Serena cracked a grin. “That too. Nothing was ruined, so that’s a good thing, but they’ll need us out of the way for a couple more days to reinforce the rest of the pipes and send in a cleaning crew.”

“You don’t mind us crashing until then, do you?” Leslie asked. “We’ll even spring for dinner.”

“That won’t be necessary. You’re all welcome to stay as long as you need to.”

Victoria began to dance in her seat to some silent beat the rest of us couldn’t hear. “Hell yes. Hey, we should totally do girls’ night. Skip the bar scene, bring in someone to do mani/pedis, order takeout, and watch the Eras tour.” She spun around to face me. “Hey, Mr. C, you like mani/pedis, right?”

Oh sweet fuck. It was one thing to host this trio; it was another thing to be “one of the girls.” Especially when they began to dance and sing at the top of their lungs to Taylor Swift.

“Actually, you know what? I have a very busy week coming up at work and with the Elysium, so I think I might leave you ladies the house and maybe check in somewhere. That way you can have free rein.”

A worried expression crossed Serena’s face. “I don’t want to push you out of the house, Dad.”

“Oh, you won’t be. You know I have a million points to use up, and this way I won’t feel like the old guy asking you to keep it down every five minutes.”

Serena bit down into her lip, her consternation obvious. “Are you sure?”

“Of course.” I came around the counter and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You moved out for some space. Some freedom from your dad. You don’t need me hovering around when you want to have fun.”

Serena looked up at me, narrowing her eyes a fraction. “Plus it’ll give you time alone to…work.”

The insinuation was loud and clear—to me. But in all honesty, I hadn’t even thought of that possibility. Of being free to call up Preston. Now that she’d put the idea in my head, though, I had to admit it was a good one.

“It will. So you ladies settle in and stay as long as you need. I’m going to go and organize myself a room.”

“Thanks, Mr. C. You’re the best,” Leslie and Victoria said around bites of food.

“The absolute best.” Serena punctuated her words with a kiss on my cheek, then whispered by my ear, “Tell him I said hi.”

Not quite sure how to respond to that, I kissed the top of her head and made my goodbyes as I headed upstairs to my bedroom.

Once inside, I shut the door and leaned back on it, staring at the bed Preston had been in just a few days ago. Did I dare do what Serena had suggested? It wasn’t like he lived with his parents. He could make up an excuse to his friends and come and stay with me.

My cock jerked at the idea of spending a couple of nights, uninterrupted, with him. The anonymity a hotel provided. We could each do what we had to during the week and come home to each other at night.

I liked that idea a whole lot. The only question was, would Preston?

I reached into my pocket for my cell phone and opened up a thread under the new contact I’d given Preston.

How would you feel about spending a couple of nights at the Plaza?

I reread the text several times, my finger hovering over the send button as my brain made a last-ditch effort to show some common sense. But my desire overrode it, and I hit the button.

I’d barely made it across my room to the closet when a response came back.

PYT:

Depends. Would I be spending them alone, or…

Or.

PYT:

Then I’d feel really fucking excited about it.

Good. I’ll text you the details as soon as I have them.

PYT:

Yes, sir.

Two damn words. That was all it took for me to reach down between my legs and give myself a rough squeeze. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on Preston again—and more so, I couldn’t wait for him to get his hands on me.

PYT:

You’re touching yourself right now, aren’t you?

I froze for a second, caught red handed by that beautiful boy.

I am.

PYT:

Fuck. God that’s fucking hot.

And you?

PYT:

I’m sitting in church with my parents.

I didn’t know what I’d been expecting, but that had my jaw practically on the floor. As heat began to rise to my cheeks and guilt started to knot my stomach, up popped another message.

PYT:

I’m just kidding. But if you want me to get on my knees tonight and confess…

That little shit.

You’ll be lucky if I don’t bend you over and spank you for that.

PYT:

More like unlucky.

Jesus Christ. He’d almost given me a goddamn heart attack, but I’d be sure to pay him back later.

I’ll text you soon.

PYT:

I’ll be waiting.