I don’t know what to call the mood I’m in. After Molly all but ran from me, I’d made my way up to my room to handle my cock. Twice I jacked off. It did nothing. There was no relief. Not even when I held her panties to my nose, breathing in her sweetness. The panties had still been damp from her orgasm.

I knew I had to get out of the house, or I’d do something I couldn’t take back. I’d already gone too far. I have no fucking clue what came over me. That’s a lie. I know what it was. It was that prick West. Not to mention the others I’d caught looking at her today when she’d fled from the SUV this morning. All day I wondered if some little prick was sniffing around her. I’m going insane.

“That’s what I thought.” He gets up, walking over to the bar in his office and grabs himself a beer. “Want one?” I shake my head no.

My head is fucked up enough. Chase drops down on the other end of the sofa, throwing his feet up on the table in front of us to watch the baseball game I’d flicked on, needing something to try and keep me busy.

“Why do you still live in this condo?”

“You say that like this place is a fucking dump.” He’s right. This is one of the nicest buildings in the city.

“It is a dump compared to what you build.” The man can construct anything.

Not only can he build anything, he can create it too. He’d be the most sought-after architect if not for doing his own real estate and construction. The man has really made a monopoly out of himself. The Silverstein family has always been in construction, but Chase has taken it to a whole other level.

“It will do for now.” He takes a swig of his beer. He does travel a lot.

This place screams bachelor pad, and I don’t mean because he’s bringing random chicks in and out of here. There is nothing on the walls. The dining room is empty, and I’d put money on all the other rooms being the same way. Except his, which likely only has a bed and nightstands. He spends all his time in this office or out on job sites.

“I kissed my stepsister,” I blurt out. Chase spits the beer from his mouth across the room. His feet drop off the coffee table.

“Could have warned me.” He coughs, still choking on some of his beer.

“And how would I have warned you about that?”