by Gemma James
I turn on my heel, leaving the door wide open. That’s the only invitation she’ll get from me. The door closes behind her, and she loiters on the edge of the living room.
“I like your apartment. It’s cute.”
By cute she means small.
“It’s all I could afford in this area.”
Taking another cautious step, she wrings her hands. “I came to apologize.”
“This isn’t something you can fix with an apology, Brit. I didn’t expect other women in Whiskey Flats to keep their hands off of Chris, but you’re my sister.” I glare at her. “Did you jump into his bed before or after I cried my eyes out to you?”
She wanders to the living room window. “It happened the night you were with Perry.” A flick of her blue eyes in my direction tells me she isn’t nearly as remorseful as she’d have me believe. “And we…well, we hooked up after you left.”
“How many times?”
She purses her lips, and that’s all the answer I need. She fucked my ex-boyfriend enough times to earn her the Shittiest Sister of the Year award.
My stomach cramps, reminding me that I haven’t had breakfast yet, and I fight the urge to bolt to the toilet again. I stalk into the kitchen and drop a slice of bread into the toaster. If I weren’t so angry with Brit, I’d offer her something to eat.
“I hope you and Chris will be happy together. You deserve each other.” Filling a mug with water for tea, I follow her slow movement across the narrow space to the other side of the bar.
“He’s in love with you.” She slides onto a barstool. “I’d kill for someone to care about me like that.”
“Chris doesn’t love me.” I put the mug into the microwave and slam the door shut. “You don’t treat people you love like that.”
“Don’t let this pregnancy get in the way of the two of you being together.”
“Look, Brit. I’ve already moved on with someone else, so you can drop the guilty act. If you want Chris, he’s all yours. I mean that.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” she says, a hint of exasperation in her tone. “There’s nothing keeping me and Chris together. I’m aborting the pregnancy.”
I blanch at her words. “Did Chris pressure you into that decision?”
She shakes her head, blue eyes glistening. “I’m not ready to be a mom. My career is just starting to take off. I just…I can’t do this on my own.”
“How far along are you?”
“About seven weeks. I’m running out of time, Jules.”
The microwave beeps, giving me a few moments of reprieve. I drop a tea bag into the mug, waiting for the bag to seep while I slather peanut butter onto a piece of toast. Abortion is such a personal decision, but I’m not convinced it’s a decision Brit can live with. She’s talked about wanting children since we were kids.
Granted, she also envisioned a thriving modeling career and a rich husband.
Preparing my tea, I add a splash of cream and go easy on the sugar this time, considering the news I just learned this morning. I turn back to Brit. “You still have time. Whatever you decide, just make sure you do it for you.”
“I will. I promise.” A beat slithers past. “I’ve missed you.”
“How’s Dad?” I ask, purposefully deflecting. “He was sick a few weeks ago when I talked to him.”
“He’s doing much better.” She lets out a breath. “Mom hasn’t told him about the pregnancy yet.”
“Why haven’t you told him?”
“Same reason I didn’t tell you.” Her attention lowers, long lashes grazing her cheeks. “I’m a coward.”
She’s the eldest, but thanks to Mom, she’s the one that still has a lot of growing up to do. “I’m still upset with you,” I tell her before taking a sip of my tea.
“I know. You have every right to be. I messed up.”
“You did, but…I’ve missed you too, Brit.”
That brings a tiny smile to her lips. “Will you ever be able to forgive me?”
“It’ll take some time.”
She gives a solemn nod. “I understand.”
I bite into my toast and wrinkle my nose. “You up for grabbing brunch?”
She hops off the stool. “Anything you want, Jules. It’s your birthday, after all.”
27. Busted
Jules
Lesley and the guys roped Kaden into cordoning off Club Shadow’s VIP loft for my birthday party. The first floor is packed with dancing bodies as the band owns the stage with their last set of the night. Garen’s voice belts out a haunting melody of love and second chances.
The after party is about to begin.
I look around the empty loft. An elaborate cake takes center stage on the appetizer station sitting against the wall at one end of the space. Balloons cling to the ceiling, their strings hanging down, parting like curtains as one moves through the loft. Grouped seating areas have been arranged around an area left free for dancing. Flameless candles provide ambience from the small round tabletops.
“This place looks amazing.” Turning at the sound of his deep voice, I find Cash standing behind me. “Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner,” he says, landing a kiss on my cheek. “Had another emergency meeting with the Board.”
“It’s okay. The party hasn’t started yet anyway.” He’s been in a constant state of flux since his wife’s arraignment, so I’m not surprised he spent another long day at the office.
“I think we finally ironed out the kinks in Monica’s resignation.” He grabs a bottle of champagne from a bucket of ice and pops the top. “How about we make the most of this time before everyone starts coming up in droves?” The bubbly spills over, and we both laugh as he fills two flutes.
“How was your day?” he asks, handing me a flute before taking a sip from his own.
I hold the glass but don’t bring it to my lips. “It was good. My sister surprised me with a visit this morning.”
He raises a brow at that.
“I’m still hurt by the betrayal, but I think we’re on our way to salvaging what’s left of our relationship.” I trace the rim of my flute with my pointer finger. “She’s still my sister.”
“Please tell me Chris stayed in Oklahoma where he belongs.”
“He’s not coming back, Cash.”
“Well that’s cause for celebration.” The band transitions into a slow guitar intro, and he sets his glass on the table. “Dance with me?”
I abandon my untouched champagne next to his and take his hand. “I’d love to.”
He pulls me into his arms, and we begin swaying to the music. “We shared our first kiss over there,” he whispers, chin resting on the crown of my head. I focus on the spot he’s talking about—the wall in the very back of the room—and remember how desperate we were back then.
How desperate we still are.
As if my thoughts are mirrored in his head, he reaches for my ass and pulls me snug against him. “Being away from you makes me hornier than hell, Jules.”
My breath catches. As I cup his erection through his pants, his mouth finds mine, and the next thing I know, we’re stumbling toward that wall under the cover of dim light. He pushes me against it as I reach for his zipper.
“I don’t have a condom,” he says with a groan against my lips as I curl my fingers around his cock.
I inch back and meet his eyes. “We don’t need one.”
“We don’t?”
“No.” I slide my hand along his jaw, thumb grazing the stubble there, and I’d give anything to feel that scruffy face between my thighs. “I hope you meant it when you said you wanted children.”
His gaze widens, going metallic with heat. “I meant it.”
“That’s good, because I’m pregnant.”
He searches my face for several long heartbeats. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.”
His mouth slams down on mine, and every dart of his tongue owns me to my soul. We break apart all too soon, and he grips my cheeks bet
ween his hands. “You just gave me the best news of my life.”
“Really?” I blink, staunching the threat of tears.
“Fuck yes.” He pulls me away from the wall and bends me over the arm of a chair. His fingers are warm and rough against my skin as he yanks my leggings down my thighs, baring my ass. His palm lands on my left butt cheek with a sound slap.
I glance over my shoulder in shock, but something about the way he’s standing behind me, arm raised in preparation for another smack, steals my breath. Getting spanked by him in the loft of his brother’s club, where anyone could catch us, thrills me more than it should. I raise my ass in silent invitation. Fisting my blond locks with his free hand, he yanks my head back and lands another one on my bottom.
“Are you wet?”
“Yes.”
“Thank God.” He grips my ass and plunges to the hilt, and we both moan. “I was dying to fuck you like this the first time I kissed you.” His breaths are hot and fast against my ear, splashing heat down my neck. “I’ve never craved anyone as much as I crave you.”
I push my ass into his groin, urging him deeper. “You feel so good. Don’t stop.”
“Not a chance, Jules.” He rams me from behind, and each thrust is a frantic, raw, untamed claim on me. The band launches into the next song, and the riff of an electric guitar drifts to the loft from the first floor, accompanied by the drum beat.
The music floods my ears, but all of my other senses belong to Cash, and I close my eyes to amplify each remaining one.
The linger of his champagne kiss on my lips.
The wafting spiciness of his skin.
The deep thrusts of his cock.
Only a few minutes pass before I come in a violent wave, and my spine bows under his onslaught. Mouth forming a muted circle of ecstasy, my eyelids drift up, and I find the shocked gaze of his brother staring back from the top of the stairs.
28. Common Ground
Cash
I’m mid-orgasm when Jules stiffens with a surprised gasp that is not born of pleasure. Following the direction of her gaze, I glance over to find Kaden standing like a statue, watching us rut like animals.
Fuck.
The band’s set comes to an end, submerging us in unsettling quiet. Kaden clears his throat and turns his back to us, granting me the few seconds I need to finish the job. As I jerk inside Jules, spurting the last of my seed, I’m suddenly angry with Kaden for ruining this moment, despite it being my own damn fault that we got caught.
But when it comes to Jules, I’ll never be able to control myself, and I can see us getting into all sorts of trouble in the future. As I pull out and zip up, I make a mental note to install a lock on my office door, since fucking her on my desk is going to become a midday ritual.
“You okay?” I ask her, keeping my voice low as I pull up her pants.
She rises and turns to face me, and fuck, do I find the flush of her cheeks sexy as hell. Smoothing the burgundy dress-like shirt over her leggings, she darts glances in Kaden’s direction every couple of seconds.
“I’m fine. I just need to find the ladies’ room.” She’s off toward the stairs before I can say a word, winding a path around Kaden in her haste to seek refuge in the privacy of the restroom.
I grab my abandoned champagne flute and take a seat. Kaden pours himself a glass and joins me though he’s apparently avoiding my eyes.
“Not the image I wanted in my head, little brother.”
“Let’s not go into the things we don’t want burned into our minds.”
“Point taken.” He raises his glass toward me before taking a sip. “How is she?” His voice dips, and I don’t have to ask to know he’s referring to Monica.
“She’s handling it about as well as can be expected. I think she realizes it could have been a lot worse. She could have gone away for twenty-five to life.” I tip the flute back, emptying it in a single gulp. “Think you’ll ever forgive her?”
“I don’t know.” He’s silent for a few moments, expression one of contemplation. “I have a child out there somewhere that I knew nothing about. I’ll never get to meet her.”
“Her?”
He nods. “Monica said the baby was a girl. I can’t tell you how it feels to know I have a daughter I’ve never met, and will probably never meet.”
I don’t envy him one bit. “It’s going to take some time to process it.”
He lets out a laugh laced with sarcasm. “I have time. Three years to be exact.”
Three years is nothing for accidentally killing someone, but to Monica it will seem like an eternity. She was lucky to get off with an involuntary manslaughter charge.
We fall into a companionable silence, and that’s one thing I like about Kade—he’s always been good at coexisting without saying a word. I’m thankful for it now as we watch the band pack up their equipment on the first floor.
“They’re really good,” I say, nodding toward Jules’ friends.
“They are. Remind me to thank your girlfriend for hooking me up.”
“You could have given them the gig without dating her.”
He arches a brow in my direction. “You still upset about that?”
“How do you know I’m upset about it?” It’s not like we’ve talked about it. And maybe that’s our problem.
When did we stop talking about shit?
The longer I study my carbon copy, the more I measure the distance between us. I’m not sure when the fissure happened, exactly. Definitely not all at once. Kaden and I grew apart in stages, seemingly insignificant on their own but add them together and the gap is painfully obvious.
“I didn’t know,” he says. “Until now.”
“Fair enough. Just keep your hands off Jules, and maybe I’ll forgive you.”
“I wouldn’t have asked her out if I’d known you had feelings for her.”
Despite everything, I believe him.
“Speaking of your girlfriend,” he begins. “Is she ever going to show her face again?”
I laugh. “That’s a good question.” I still have a lifetime’s worth of things to discover about Jules, but I’d wager a bet she’s never been caught in such a compromising situation before.
Kaden finishes off the rest of his champagne before rising to his feet. “I need to get back down there. I’ll send my bartender in to check on her.”
I nod my thanks as he leaves, and it isn’t long before someone else makes their way to the top of the stairs. I recognize Jules’ friend as her dark eyes zero in on me.
She strides across the loft to where I’m sitting alone, and I can’t read her expression, though her clunky heels meet the ground with purpose. Without so much as a greeting, she takes the chair Kaden vacated, and I sense the weight of her scrutiny on me.
“You guys are really good,” I tell her, settling in for the coming conversation—because I know she’s got something on her mind.
“Thanks. Your brother was really cool for giving us a chance.”
“It’s well-deserved.”
She crosses her leather-clad legs. “I think we both know I didn’t come up here to talk to you about the band’s talent.”
My mouth twitches with the threat of a grin. “Didn’t think you did. Am I in for a twenty-questions session?”
“How about just one?” She leans forward, dashing her pink-streaked wispy black bangs to the side. “Are you going to put Jules first?”
Jesus. This girl doesn’t beat around the bush. “Jules means everything to me.”
She narrows her eyes—not in a threatening way but in a way that says she’s sizing me up. “You sound pretty confident.”
“I’m one-hundred percent confident that I’m in love with her. Does that answer your question?”
“It helps. There might be hope for you yet.” She leans forward, her face a swath of seriousness. “Because her ex never did put her first. Jules bent over backwards for him. She put up with so much shit, all in the name of love.” The purse of her ch
arcoal-hued lips gives away her disdain for Jules’ ex.
I already like this girl.
“As far as I’m concerned, Jules is the first word in the book of my life.”
Lesley breaks into a huge smile. “I think we understand each other.”
“I think we do. You’re a good friend to her.” Just then, Jules returns, and behind her, the rest of the band files in, one by one, and the party kicks into gear amidst introductions and handshakes.
Jules and I have the rest of our lives in front of us, and I plan to spend every day of mine cherishing the ground she walks on.
29. Victorious
Jules
“Garen isn’t so bad,” Cash says as we leave the club.
I shoot him a glance. “As opposed to…?”
“To my first impression of the guy when I saw him hanging all over you weeks ago.”
“You were jealous?”
“Fuck yes. I hadn’t even kissed you yet, and I had to watch this wannabe rocker put his hands on you.”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to call him a wannabe.”
“Okay,” he concedes. “Maybe he’s not a wannabe. Like I said, he’s not so bad.”
Probably because Garen was drunk off his ass for most of the party and spent the night flirting with Les, much to Zan and Leo’s irritation.
“So you enjoyed the party?” I ask him, sending out feelers for how he faired after a night spent with the people who mean everything to me. I’ve been part of his life for months now, having met his family and spending my days by his side at MontBlake. It was a nice change of pace to witness Cash in the middle of my world.
“I did. What about you, compromising positions aside?”
If I never have to relive the moment I found Kaden staring at me while Cash pounded me from behind, it’ll be too soon. “It wasn’t bad for a party.”
He laughs. “I didn’t realize you were such a hard sell.”
“I’m kidding, Cash. It was seriously the best birthday ever.”
“It’s not over yet.”