“What look?”
He grinned, looking more wolfish than man. “Me.”
Nineteen
THEO
The Crownes were not the type of people to stay in a hotel, unless they owned that hotel. In France they preferred to stay on their private island. Warm sun beat down on hot sand, and Gemma groaned.
“This is torture.” She threw her phone down. It landed quietly in a small tuft of sand.
“Two more islands, sis, two more,” Gray said, his arm across his eyes, blocking out the sun.
Gemma sighed, lying down on the sand. “Wake me up when we reach Switzerland.”
Only a Crowne would be bored on a private island.
They were bored because to them, France, Spain, Switzerland—it was an obligation, not a once-in-a-lifetime vacation. Which meant they usually came up with more and more crazy and dangerous activities.
It made my abdomen clench in anticipation.
I wanted to take Abigail and lock her in a room.
She’d taken a liking to the key chain I’d gotten her and carried it everywhere. She called it T2, for Theo Two. She didn’t know it was also a tracking device.
I wasn’t sure how to feel about the guilt.
Normally the odds of the asshole stalking her following us out of the country was low, but that asshole was like them. Wealthy and without limitation.
“What are you thinking?” Abigail asked, shifting my focus from the turquoise sea to below me, where she sat on the sun-warmed sand.
I glanced behind me, checking that her family was too preoccupied to hear, and said, “Wondering what those pretty lips will feel like wrapped around my cock.”
Her lips parted, eyes widening, and she looked away. My cheek twitched. I liked shocking Abigail. She was someone who acted impossible to shock.
I stood behind her like a good bodyguard, arms behind my back, legs spread, but below me… Abigail was nothing but temptation in a cornflower swimsuit that brought out her honey skin, the rich tones in her dark hair, and the bright color of her clay eyes. It hugged her pert breasts above the glowing lines of her abdomen. My eyes traveled to a barely covered pussy. Was she wet? She got so fucking wet.
As if hearing my thoughts, she shifted, uncrossing her smooth legs. I clenched my jaw.
A Crowne vacation was one of the only times family time was enforced, meaning all four Crowne family members sat in somewhat close proximity. Meaning I couldn’t haul her ass over my shoulder and fuck her. She looked up at me again, and by the way she stared, wetting her lips, I could tell she was thinking the same.
“Hey, dog,” Gray yelled from down the beach. I tore my eyes off Abigail, finding him peering at me from under the shadow of his forearm. “Go get me a piece of
gum.”
I arched a brow. He was already chewing a piece.
“Don’t call him that,” Abigail snapped.
Gray shifted his gaze to her. “Because only you can?” He rolled his eyes. “Dogs are good at fetching things, and it stimulates their brain, sis.”
“Why don’t you have Story do it?” Abigail countered. Story was still perched beside Gray, knees to her chin, and still covered head to toe.
“Shut up,” Gemma groaned, a wide-brimmed hat on her face now. “I’m trying to fall asleep.”
“Children,” Tansy murmured, not lifting her eyes from her magazine. She sat beneath a cabana in a sunhat and glasses, a pitcher of some fruity liquor beside her and two women in soft linen ready to attend.
Abigail flipped Gray off, and he blew her a kiss.