She twists beneath me, and I lift up to give her just enough room to roll onto her back. She surges up to meet me, her soft mouth pressing against mine. “Let’s not think about the fact my father is downstairs.”

I growl and press my whole body into her. “You sure you don’t want to think about it?”

“Jacob!”

“His good little daughter being such a tease for me? Calling me Daddy and wiggling her ass? Is there any part of you that wants everyone to know what a little slut you are?”

“Yes.” She gasps. “Why is that so hot?”

“I feel it, too. Like it’s good to be wicked when it’s the two of us being wicked together.”

“If I’m a little slut…” Her cheeks turn pink. “Then what are you?”

“A very bad man.” Four loaded words I’ve thought to myself many times, but never voiced out loud before. “Who wants to do terrible things to you.”

“Yes, please.” Her voice catches, so full of longing that regret boils inside me.

“Every terrible thing you could ever want,” I promise her.

“All this time…” She shakes her head in wonder. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”

Because she was too young. And I was too stupid. “We’re doing it now and that’s all that matters.”

“I know…” She smiles breathlessly and reaches her lips for mine again, just as a knock sounds at the door.

Did we even lock it?

I surge off her as she giggles and lifts her voice. “Yes?”

“Mom is back,” a muffled voice says. “And…well…”

Sienna cringes and rolls off the bed. “That can’t be good. We better go see what’s going on.”

Chapter Seven

Sienna

I skid to a stop in the archway to the great room, just in time to see Mom waving a lot of bright red fabric around. Jake bumps into me from behind, his hands dropping to my hips.

It feels like he's laughing, his whole body shaking behind me.

I twist to look at him, and sure enough there's a familiar grin on his face. The one he gives me when we're sharing a chuckle about one of his clients.

“Matching pajamas?” he asks.

I roll my eyes. “A family tradition.”

He shrugs. “I like it.”

I wince. “That's because you haven't seen them in their full, sure-to-be-horrifying glory yet.”

He leans in, his lips brushing against my ear. “I’m going to like them.”

I highly doubt that.

Mom holds up two identical, bright red onesies covered in embroidered Christmas lights.

“This one's for Carina,” she says with the glee of a mother who has been dressing her daughters like twins for twenty-five years. “And this one's for Sienna.”

I die a little as I step forward and take my very adorable, very childish pajamas. “Thanks, Mom.”