Unbuttoning my jeans, I freed myself from the denim prison. Stroking in hard pulls, I imagined how Paige’s small, soft hand would feel moving up and down my shaft, her delicate fingers massaging my balls. With a swallowed grunt of pleasure, I pumped faster, racing toward my release.

A noise of surprise caught my attention, and I opened my eyes to see Paige standing in my doorway.

Fuck!

Unable to tuck my swollen cock back into my jeans, I pulled a pillow into my lap and gazed up at her. “Are you here to lend a hand, princess?”

Her face turned tomato red and she stammered out an apology before scurrying off down the hall.

After a few deep breaths to get myself under control, I tucked a very unhappy camper back into my pants and went in search of her. Paige was in the living room, standing in front of the window, her shoulders tense.

When she heard me approach, she turned to face me. “Oh my God, I am so sorry.” Her expression was pained, and I could tell she genuinely felt terrible. “I didn’t mean to just barge in like that.”

“Then why did you?”

“I thought I heard you say my name.”

Fuck. Had I? I blew out a frustrated breath and pushed my hands into my hair.

Paige crossed the room and sat on the edge of the couch. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think this is going to work.”

Still reeling and on edge, I took another deep breath. Lacing my fingers behind my neck, I stood before her. Her cheeks were still stained pink, and her eyes were glassy.

“I get it. You don’t think we can stay together under one roof without fucking each other’s brains out.”

She made a noise of surprise in her throat. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to, princess. Your reactions to me told me everything I needed to know.”

Paige’s blue eyes widened, locking onto mine. I’d given her one hell of a shock. But the look in her eyes was far from disgusted or angry.

Fuck. Playing with her was almost too easy. And fun.

Aside from her physical response to me, I knew she was recalling the first time I’d called her princess all those years ago. I was a rotten ten-year-old, and she and Allie were entering their freshman year of high school. Things had changed between us. I was no longer their cute little sidekick. I was a disease they couldn’t seem to shake. They didn’t want me near them, and since I was too young to understand it, let alone communicate my feelings about it, I’d lashed out.

Paige was the furthest thing from a spoiled princess. She was kind, considerate, and humble. But her family was solidly middle class, and ours was . . . well, not. It was a nickname meant to sting when I hurled it at her. Only it hadn’t stung at all. She’d smirked at me, her mouth lifting in a crooked smile, and ruffled her fingers through my hair. After that, I continued using it because the nickname often earned me a smile.

“You can’t tell me you’re not interested. The way your tight little nipples poke out, begging to be licked, the hammering of your pulse in your throat, the flush of your cheeks, the greedy way your eyes fell to my lap when you walked in.”

She chewed on her lower lip, her gaze darting away from mine.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. We have chemistry. Plain and simple,” I continued, my tone soft, alluring.

“I do not . . .” She anchored her hands to her hips, which pressed her breasts out, her beaded nipples still hard and straining.

I suppressed a laugh. She could deny it all she wanted, but I was a fourth-year med student. I’d been studying biology and anatomy for years. She had all the classic signs. She was turned on.

“We’re practically family, Cannon. Allie would—”

“We’re not family. But yeah, Allie would freak the fuck out, which is why we’d never tell her.”

“It’s not going to happen. Ever.” Her voice wavered. It was slight, but it was there.

I shrugged. “Whatever you say. It was just an idea.” And obviously a bad one.

Part of me was relieved she refused my suggestion. If I broke Paige’s heart, not only would my sister kick my ass, but I wouldn’t forgive myself. But toying with her like this, watching her reactions to me . . . that I couldn’t resist.

Pulling a deep breath into her lungs, Paige fought to regain control.

“Listen, if you don’t want me here, if you don’t think we can behave . . .” I lifted my brows suggestively. “I can find somewhere else to crash until the end of the semester.”

After a scoffed grunt, she straightened her spine. “I can behave like an adult if you can. It’s only two months.”

So she admits that misbehaving appeals to her. “Sounds reasonable,” I murmured.

Actually it sounded fucking depressing, but I wouldn’t push her. If she wanted to deny she was interested, there wasn’t much I could do. And given my track record with women, it was a damn good idea to keep it in my pants.

My career was the one thing in my control. It felt good to set goals and work toward them. Growing up, we moved from one run-down apartment to the next until Mom remarried when I was eighteen, and she moved in with my stepdad when I went off to college. Things stabilized after that, but by then the desire for more was ingrained in me so deeply that nothing could stop me now. I wanted to do better, to prove to my mom that I could make something of myself.

Yes, the need for pussy often forced me into clubs seeking a quick release with a willing partner. One-night stands and the occasional short-term relationship helped squelch the burning need low in my groin. But it never detracted from my mission. And after this last particularly painful breakup, I was done with relationships, even short-term ones. From here on out, I would stick to clinical matters of the heart, and avoid the metaphorical ones that often landed you in a messy breakup.