I curl my arm around the back of Winter’s chair, resting my hand against her back. The silk of her shirt grazes my fingertips as she shifts, and an electric current sizzles through me when my thumb connects with her bare skin. She repositions slightly to allow me more access, bringing a smile to my face.

I bet she’s like an electric blanket between her legs right now. My cock stirs awake at the notion, but I give into my thoughts for all of two seconds before I think better of it, considering denying myself of her has been one of my largest weaknesses.

“Winter, what does your father do?” my dad asks.

“He works in finance, sir. Specifically, for Hiller and Ash—”

“Hiller and Ashby,” he finishes her sentence with surprise. “I know Barron Hiller well. Your father’s a financial advisor then?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Please, Winter, call me Richard. This is my home, make yourself comfortable.”

“Of course, Richard.” She smiles shyly, glancing in my direction.

“I didn’t know your father worked for Hill and Ash,” I say. “I work with them a lot, actually.”

“You never asked.” Her eyes sparkle pink and bright orange as the sun sets deeper into the ocean, its reflection slivering lights across the water directly into her eyes.

I realize, she’s right, I never did ask. We’ve talked about many things; Her friends, her shithead exes, her job, and hobbies… We laid in bed for hours talking about our childhoods, high school, and college. We talked about her family and mine, but I’ve never asked specific questions about them. More importantly, I’ve never asked about her mother.

I looked up Jolie's accident, of course. After Winter told me that her mother was dead, I couldn’t get it out of my mind. So, I searched for newspaper articles about her accident and finally contacted the court for documents of the trial where the driver of the car was convicted of manslaughter.

The accident was gruesome. It wasn’t her fault. She was turning left at an intersection and was side swiped by a drunk driver who ran a red light. She was trapped in the car for six hours while they tried to pry the steering wheel from her abdomen without killing her instantly—since the steering wheel was holding her organs in place.

Winter’s eyes begged me for trust the night she told me, so I gave it to her, telling her I was adopted without thought. I didn’t do it because I was minutes from experiencing her the way I craved to. I did it because it felt right. She asked for something to hold on to, so I gave her the rope, the harness, and the solid ground to land on.

It’s becoming very clear to me I’ll give Winter anything within my power to give if only she asks.

“Will your father be at the wedding?”

Her eyes sparkle when she looks my way. “Of course. Sondra and I have grown up together since we were babies.” Turning again, she looks at my father. “Her mother and mine were best friends from high school. Sondra is family. My brothers will be there, too.”