It wasn’t the tequila or the rebound. It was him.

“Jesus Christ, you feel even better than I remember. How is that even possible?”

I didn’t say it out loud, but I knew it was a simple fact that when you mixed Lincoln Riscoff and me together, we exploded like TNT.

Even though I knew it would blow up in our faces, I couldn’t stop.

I let my head fall back and stopped worrying about the consequences, losing myself to his deliciously rough rhythm. My fingers clawed at the quilt as he pounded into me and took me all the way to the edge.

When I came, it was with the name of the enemy on my lips.

Eleven

Lincoln

Present day

“Heard your old whore is back in town. Maybe she wants to take a younger Riscoff for a ride this time,” Harrison says as he walks in late for our meeting.

I look up from the papers on the desk in front of me, the urge to kill my brother roaring to life with just a shred less ferocity as the urge to fire him.

If it weren’t for Commodore’s restriction on me removing my brother from employment without cause, his ass would be out of this company in a heartbeat. There is no love lost between me and my brother. Not after he fucked the woman I almost married just to prove he could. He did save me from an expensive divorce, though, so maybe I should thank him for that.

But I won’t.

I stay seated and rein in my temper. I know what he wants—to bait me into slamming my fist into his face so he can go crying to Commodore and show him I’m unfit to inherit the Riscoff family holdings. There’s no way in hell I’ll give him the satisfaction. Instead, I direct my gaze to the clock on my desk.

“You’re late. Your report is late.”

His lips flatten into a frustrated line as he tosses a bound stack of paper onto my desk. “It’s not late enough to matter.”

If I were born the second son, and therefore wouldn’t inherit anything because of an antiquated family tradition, I’d probably hate my older brother too. However, after a lifetime of dealing with his bullshit, there’s no way in hell I would voluntarily step aside to let him run this company.

He drops into one of the chairs in front of my desk. “So, big brother, have you seen her yet? Or has she been rode hard and put up wet for too many years to catch your eye again?”

My fists clench again, and there’s nothing more I’d like to do than grab him by the throat and hang him out the window until he screams like a bitch. Instead, I use what feels like superhuman control to grab the report and flip open to the executive summary on three acquisitions we’re considering.

Thankfully, he keeps his mouth shut while I review it.