Warm. Cosy. Comfortable. Skin against skin. Scents filtered through to him. Clean sheets. Body musk. A faint soupçon of s*x. Rich wanted to remain like this forever. When had he last felt this content? Ever?
Such tranquillity could be a dangerous thing. Might be tempting to linger here. Take his father’s place. Screw the gardener on the weekends.
He’d detest it. Hate rising each morning. To marry someone he didn’t want. Be a cheater. Use Ethan for s*x—if the man was agreeable—but never experience a connection to anyone other than his sister. If things didn’t work out the way they discussed, she might disappear again soon.
Stupid notions. Pointless. Ethan wouldn’t want to be his bit on the side. No more than Rich would want him to be. He couldn’t use anyone that way, not even if they wer
