Once we were alone, I dropped my voice to no louder than a whisper, just to be on the safe side.
“I assume you haven’t told her anything.” I arched a brow.
He shook his head, handing me a glass of red wine, then grabbing a glass containing a few fingers of scotch for himself. We made our way over to the couch, assuming our usual positions.
“I don’t want to do anything that could cause her stress right now,” Wes explained. “At least not until we have more concrete information. Agent Curran is working on getting that, but as I’m sure you can imagine, it could take a while to authenticate every piece of jewelry you received, especially since he needs to get the local authorities involved. He has been able to verify two pieces as belonging to women on Claire’s list of potential victims. In the meantime, he hopes you’ll allow him access to your employee records. See if maybe there’s a connection there.”
“Of course. Whatever it takes to get to the bottom of this.”
“Great.”
I brought my glass to my lips, looking around the room as I took a large sip. When my eyes fell on the enormous television screen, I choked on my wine, coughing, my throat burning from a combination of liquor and surprise.
“You okay?” Wes rubbed my back in a soothing manner as I attempted to get my coughing under control.
It wasn’t the fact Wes had his television tuned in to the Hawks game. Or the fact the man I knew so intimately was currently on the mound. Or even the fact he looked so damn sexy in his uniform.
No. What had me choking on my wine was what I saw sticking out of the back pocket of his perfectly molded pants.
My panties.
That cocky bastard.
“Better?” Wes asked once I finally managed to catch my breath.
I nodded, clearing my throat a few times, trying to not look at the screen. Whenever I did, it brought back memories of the night he stole my panties as a so-called good luck charm.
And the mind-blowing orgasm he gave me with just his fingers.
Then, as luck would have it, the camera zoomed in on his face as he prepared to throw another pitch, intense, blue eyes focused on the catcher’s mitt.
It reminded me of the way his stare bore into me while moving inside me, every ounce of attention devoted to making me feel every bit of pleasure possible.
A shiver rolled through me at the memory, my cheeks heating.
“Do you need me to leave you alone? Give you some privacy?” Wes joked.
I quickly snapped out of my daydream and playfully slapped his arm. “Don’t be sick.”
“Hey. I was just offering. Who knew your kink was younger baseball players?”
My eyes flung wide, shocked to hear him talking like this. He was always the soft-spoken, reserved one. I was the loud one. The one who did everything to pretend she was happy and well-adjusted when nothing could have been further from the truth.
“Younger baseball players are not my kink,” I protested, albeit lamely.
Okay… Maybe they were.
“And why are we talking about this in the first place?” I continued, flustered. “You’re my brother. Plus, I’m supposed to be the one being inappropriate. That’s my role. I make the jokes while you remain serious and reflective.”
“Serious and reflective?”
“Yeah. That’s you.” I waved my hand down his frame. “Always studying and analyzing a situation before jumping into a conversation.”
“Okay…” His gaze swept over my face, seeming to analyze me, which wasn’t exactly what I’d intended when I offered my assessment. “So, what happened between you?” He nodded toward the television. “How did you leave things?”
I pushed out a long breath. “On a rain delay with no end in sight.”
His forehead wrinkled in confusion. “What do you mean?”