Sweetest Taste of Sin (Southern Sin) Read Free

forward to you callin’ me at two in the morning.”
    * * * * *
    Anthony heard Logan’s husky laughter over the gurgling of the coffee maker and the pounding of the water in the shower. His cock gave another useless pulse. He leaned down to flick his arousal, impatient with his body’s response to a woman he couldn’t have. Bracing his hands on the edge of the counter, he hung his head and closed his eyes, trying to get control of himself.
    But that proved impossible. Because Logan Guillory had infiltrated his house a little at a time , until she’d left her imprint on every corner of it. Well, every corner except the one that housed his bedroom. Fuck, if she’d entered his room for anything… He shook his head, banishing all thoughts of what she’d look like on his bed, her golden-blonde hair spilling across the pillows, her curves cushioned by his mattress.
    Goddamn, but he had it bad. For his brother’s woman. A woman who shone with sweetness and love for J.B. Every time Ant saw her watching his brother her eyes sparkled and her face glowed with it. If she looked at Ant that glow dimmed and she eyed him the way a rabbit would a hawk. Scared to move in case she caught the predator’s notice and he tried to catch her.
    An ironic smile pulled at his mouth , because God knew it wasn’t far off the mark. He’d had his sights on her for years, long before J.B. pulled his head out of his ass about Emily. Stopping at Guillory’s had been the highlight of his week, because it meant seeing Logan, teasing her until her cheeks bloomed with color and her eyes sparked with outrage. It never failed to turn him on, giving him a glimpse of what it’d be like to see her basking in the afterglow of an orgasm he’d given her.
    He’d waited too long to make his move, to put his stamp on her, waiting for her to come to him the way other women did. Ant had never been the one to chase, never had any need. If J.B. hadn’t been tied in knots over Emily by the time he was sixteen, they would’ve run roughshod over the female population of St. Martin Parish. As it was, Ant had been a solo act for so long, women coming to him without him even trying, he’d thought Logan would be the same way. Except his brother wised up, realized Emily was a bitch, dropped her and asked Logan out.
    His f ingers clenched on the edge of the counter until his knuckles turned white. Now Logan was in and out of his house, her flowery perfume soaked into nearly every inch of it, and Ant was spending more and more time sleeping in his truck so he wouldn’t have to listen to J.B. fucking her. Hear her soft cries, her gasps, or the headboard banging on the wall as his twin rode the woman he wanted to orgasm.
    Talk about hell on fucking earth. Ant was living it and it was his own fault. His mom had told him time and time again that he needed to stop being lazy when it came to matters of the heart. She’d told him a good woman wouldn’t chase after him, but he’d been cocky and overconfident. And he’d lost Logan because of it. And now he was going to lose J.B. as well , because he couldn’t take this shit anymore.
    Ant ran a hand through his hair and pushed away from the counter to pour himself a cup of coffee. He’d just leaned his hips against the kitchen table when Logan stepped in, her face glowing with humor and love, her hair wet and slicked back. She’d changed out of her tight jeans and baggy t-shirt into a pair of slim slacks and a blouse that accentuated her full breasts and nipped-in waist. Her brown eyes had been sparkling when she walked into the room, but the minute Ant turned to look at her the spark faded and wariness took its place.
    Goddammit. He almost growled at her, almost snarled like a rabid dog, holding onto the sound only because he didn’t want to scare her even more. Instead he turned away from her and sipped his coffee, his gaze on the acres of sugarcane fields outside the window. The Calhouns had one of the last