“Can we check his passport?” Kace asks.
“We have,” Blake says. “I don’t see an Italy trip, which means either Sofia came to him or he used a fake passport. If he had a fake passport, he acquired the contacts, and/or skills, to do so before he ever went to Italy.”
“I don’t know what to say to that. I mean, the letter did reference how Sofia claims to have changed Gio’s perspective on everything. I don’t know if I know where his head is anymore. And he says he never saw the letter anyway. I’m not sure if that tells us anything.”
“You found the letter when?” Blake asks.
“About two weeks before the VIP auction at Riptide.”
Blake’s brows dip. “And yet Gio says he followed Sofia here? Where’s he been in those two weeks?”
In other words, Gio is lying to me. My fingers curl on my knees and my eyes start to water. Damn you, Gio, I think. I never cry. He’s making me cry.
I swallow hard because everyone knows that’s the way to burn away tears. Not really, but somehow it works. Or maybe it’s Kace’s big hand settling on my leg. Either way, I pull myself together and meet Blake’s stare. “All I can tell you is what he told me and it seems that might be lies.” And there it is, I think. The reason the girl who never cries almost cried: my brother has always been the one person I could trust. Now, I’m not sure that was any more real than anything else in my life.
Kace hands me the glass and when I would drink, Blake says, “He didn’t necessarily lie. He could have been watching you.”
I snort and drink. “If he’d been here and seen me with Kace he would have blown a gasket.”
Blake’s impassive expression is somehow not impassive at all. “All right then. Let’s go back to the letter. It reads, and yes I have it memorized as well, ‘I wasn’t lying. The answers you need can be found with me and at the Riptide Auction House. I promise you. Come see me. I won’t keep secrets any longer. I’m done with secrets. The answer can be found at Riptide.’” He glances between us. “What does that mean?”
“Kace was there,” I say immediately. “I meet Kace’s stare. “Gio and Sofia have decided that you were with my father right before he disappeared. They think the formula is somehow with you.”
“Based on what else?” he asks. “Because I was a kid training with your father? I’m back to where I was before: to assume it’s me is illogical. I was a kid.”
“All I can tell you is what he told me in a ten-minute conversation.”
“And why am I with you if I have the formula?”
“He believes I’m somehow a piece of the puzzle. Or you think I am.”
Kace picks up my glass, downs the contents, then refills the glass. “The good news here,” he says, “is that no one wants us dead. Not yet. We are somehow the secret to the Stradivarius violin.”
Blake looks between us and runs his hands down his knees. It’s what he does before he leaves. I’ve noticed because, apparently, I notice what’s going on with strangers but not my own brother. “Let me go do some work on this. You two get some rest.” He stands. Kace stands with him. “I’ll walk you out.”
I capture his hand. “So you can say things to him that I don’t hear?”
He kisses my hand. “Exactly,” he says resolutely and heads out in Blake’s wake.
Despite his reply, or perhaps because of his reply, I find my lips curving. That reply was honest. I don’t know if I really realized how much I craved honesty in my life until these past few weeks. And if there is one thing Kace and I have been with each other these past few days, it’s that.
And my brother was not honest with me today.
I am not sure the last time he was.
I down the drink, and oh God, it burns fire down my throat. Choking, I stand up and walk to the window, the sun pressing low in the sky, a rainbow of color haloing the shoreline. My head spins and I reach for the steel rail that runs across this portion of the glass. The sound of music lifts in the air, the song “Bad Guy” by Billie Eilish starts to play.
So you're a tough guy
Like it really rough guy
Just can't get enough guy
It’s like she’s singing about my brother and the very idea churns in my belly. Kace is suddenly behind me, his hands settling gently on my shoulders, his touch igniting a welcome hum in my body. He caresses down my arms, goosebumps lifting in the wake of his touch, my lips parting as his fingers slide over mine and then twine. With our fingers just like that, his arms fold around me, easing me against the warmth of his big, powerful body. I am desperate to block everything out but him.
We are above the city here, miles above the hustle and bustle of Manhattan, floating in the sky above the water, untouchable. But soon the rainbow of colors in our sky will fade to black and I welcome that darkness, at least for a moment. Then the stars will come, they will find the darkness, they will pierce it and illuminate it. The way my brother, Sofia, and the past will find us, too.
CHAPTER FOUR
The music shifts and the same song I’d heard on the drive to the charity event back in San Francisco lifts the air: “Pieces” by Rob Thomas. There’s a pinch in my chest with the emotion it stirs. I swear, it’s as if the song is chasing me right along with my past. I swallow hard with the impact of the words that so many have listened to while living in the prison of my birthright’s creation.
Didn't I tell you, you were gonna break down
Didn't I want you, everybody wants you
Memories surface, painful memories, and anger—there is anger—anger at all the years I lost in hiding, anger at Gio for his betrayal, and he has betrayed me. He exposed me to trouble without so much as a warning. He didn’t have the courage to own his actions. And now he wants me to doubt the world I’ve created because he screwed up. I shove aside the thoughts. I shove them hard.
The words of the song ignite in my mind again.
We build it up, we tear it down
We leave our pieces on the ground
I don’t want to tear my world apart. And I won’t let Gio tear it apart either.
And with that thought, I am desperate to feel anything but what I’m feeling right now. Kace must sense the turmoil inside me. He must fear it’s about him, because he leans in, his lips at my ear, his breath this warm, sweet tickle on my skin. “I only want you. Tell me you know that.”
Realization washes over me. I’m selfish, so very selfish. I’m not the only one affected by this night. Gio threatened him. Gio accused him. Gio all but ripped me from my home with Kace and all of this just after we faced Alexander and his attempt to tear us, and Kace, apart.
I rotate and press my hand to his chest, his heart thundering beneath my palm, telling a story. He’s affected by Gio’s return. He’s affected by my reaction to Gio’s return.
“I know,” I say. “You know I know. I trust you. I trust you more than I trust Gio, but then, words are just words, right?”
His eyes—those blue, blue eyes—widen slightly and then narrow. “What does that mean, Aria?” His palm settles warmly on my waist.
My hand goes to his, holding it in place. I have this sense that this man, who I can only compare to a majestic eagle, is about to spread his powerful wings and fly away. Or maybe it’s him who believes I will fly away when I will not. “We both need more tonight, don’t you think?”
“Define more,” he urges, just a hint of an edge to him, that I both understand, but do not like. Despite my words, despite my being right here with him, I’m right. He believes I might fly away at any moment. He’s not sure that my heart, mind, and body are in sync. And going into this encounter with Gio, he was already raw and exposed from a weekend where his secrets and past delivered reality with a sharp blade, still unsure where that leaves us.
He does need more.
This understanding is the courage I need to be vulnerable with him. The sheltered girl, with very little experience and many desires, at l
east where Kace is concerned, has found in this man, and a battery of circumstances, my motivation to be daring.
I twist away from Kace, catching the hem of my tee and pulling it over my head, quickly dropping it to the ground, but I don’t face him, not yet. I place a small distance between us, and when I turn to face him, I’m out of reach to him and him to me, that black sky now swallowing the Hudson River to our sides. “What are you doing, Aria?”
My pulse is pitter-pattering in a wicked beat. “I have control, right?”
“You do,” he says, his voice low, tight, controlled. “What are you going to do with it?”
“Own it,” I say, unhooking my bra and dragging it down my arms, and I toss it between us.
His eyes stay on my face, but I can feel the spike in energy between us, just as I had the night that I’d met him, the push and pull, the charge. “I decide what I do and don’t do.” I toe off my shoes and reach for my pants.
He is unmoving, more stone and sculpture than flesh and blood man, his expression unreadable, but the distinct pulse of his masculinity, his power in the room, that all but crackles. There is more there, too, something sharp with demand, an undercurrent of urgency, I decide, that defies his absolute control.
I slide my pants and panties down my hips and legs, and once my clothing is all gone, set aside, no longer a shelter or a barrier, I stand boldly naked before him. It’s a bit more intimidating than it was in my head, him fully dressed and me naked, but the buzz of the whiskey loosens my tongue. “I have control and I choose to give it to you.”
His expression doesn’t change, the hard lines of his handsome face drawn tight, but there is a shift to the air around him. He steps toward me, a predatory edge about him now, and my body tingles with awareness, with the hum of anticipation. He pauses just in front of me, but he doesn’t touch me, not yet.
His gaze flickers over my mouth and lifts, his eyes probing, seeking everything and it’s all his. “You want to give me control?” he confirms.
I want to touch him, but for reasons I cannot explain, I don’t. I simply say, “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because we both know we’re a breath from where you were in the hotel room.”
He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t deny. “I’m not there yet.”
“I think maybe I am. I think we need to be there together.”
“What if you can’t handle being there with me, Aria?”
“I can. We can.”
He doesn’t immediately react and seconds tick by in which I am so aware of this man not touching me, that my only need, and perhaps his as well, vibrates along my nerve endings.
“Don’t move,” he orders softly, and without waiting for my reply, he moves, steps around and then behind me, his hands resting on my naked shoulders. I inhale as the heat of his body, the heat of his touch, creates a charge that sizzles up and down my arm and across my chest, puckering my nipples. His breath fans my neck. “Do you think you trust me that much?”
“Yes.”
“You sure about that?”
“I think it’s more about you trusting me, Kace.”
I wasn’t looking for a reaction, but I get one. Suddenly, he’s turning me, his arm around my waist, shackling me to him, his hand sliding over my hair, and tilting my gaze to his. “What does that mean?”
His skin against my skin is fire, a burn that answers a burn, and demands more, but there is so much more than heat and arousal between us now. There has always been so much more than heat and arousal. We are connected, me and this man, and I refuse to see that bond destroyed by anyone, especially ourselves.
“You didn’t trust me enough to tell me your secret, Kace. And once we were in the hotel room, you used that part of you that we both know you hid from me to try to scare me away. So, who doesn’t trust who?”
“You’re pushing me, Aria.” There is accusation and warning in his tone.
My fingers curl on his chest. “And?”
“And you might not like what you find.”
“Try me,” I challenge.
“And if I’m not gentle?”
“And if I’m not delicate?” I counter. “I’m not going to leave. You need to know that isn’t conditional. I need to know that one day you won’t suddenly decide you’re no good for me and walk away.”
“If anyone walks away, it will be you.”
“I’m tired of hearing that. You have to be tired of saying it. You have control. Use it and erase the unknowns for both of us.”
He studies me, his lashes half-veiled, seconds ticking, almost vibrating with their intensity, with his. He releases my hair and reaches into his pocket, turning off the music. He’s no longer touching me. “You can say no whenever you want to say no.”
“I know that.”
He leans in close, his lips pressed to my ear again. “But just remember when you say no, we stop. No matter what we’re doing, no matter how good it feels.” He eases back and those blue eyes of his meet mine, a mix of demand and simmering heat in their depths. “Understand?”
I swallow hard against an irrational bubble of nerves in my belly. “Yes.”
“Then go down on your knees.”
I blanch and my mouth is instantly dry. “What?” The word rasps from my throat.
He reaches out and strokes a few strands of hair behind my ear, his fingers teasing my skin, sending goosebumps down my spine. “On your knees, baby. I won’t hurt you and there is nothing about anything we do that you have to be embarrassed about. This is just you and me. A game we play to turn each other on, our escape together. If that’s what you want?”
It’s not a taunt or a challenge. His voice is as tender as his touch. “It is what I want,” I say, and the truth is, I mean that reply. This isn’t just for Kace or to prove something about myself or him. It’s about the clamoring of unwelcome thoughts that are as brutal as they are justified. I reject them, but not Kace. I ease down to my knees, an area rug I’ve never given a second thought until now, beneath me. I’m hyper-aware of everything around me, of the soft fibers teasing my bare skin, the faint smell of masculine spice in the air, the silence that is now everywhere. Kace pulls off his boots and then rips his T-shirt over his head. When he kneels in front of me, his gaze sweeps my naked body, and when his eyes meet mine, they are all lust and dominance.
“Hands on your knees,” he orders, and I inhale deeply, but I don’t hesitate. I do as he commands, aware of my submissive position, but not with fear. I am nervous, yes, but I am also curious, aroused, wet, my thighs slick with the ache he’s created in me.
His knee slides between mine and he presses my legs open, his eyes linger in the vee of my body before he orders, “Don’t move.”
The next thing I know, he’s on his feet, but he isn’t gone for long. He squats behind me, stroking hair away from my neck, and then his hands—those gifted, talented hands—settle on my shoulders, his lips once again at my ear. “I own you.” His teeth nip my lobe. “Right here, right now, I own you.”
Heat pools low in my belly at the erotically dominant words. “Do I own you?”
I expect, at least for the sake of the game, his denial, but instead, he says, “In every possible way, baby.” His mouth caresses my neck, his voice roughens as he repeats, “In every possible way.” His lips trail downward, over my shoulders, then lower, his long, talented fingers teasing the edge of my breasts.
I suck in a breath and his hands cover my breasts, two fingers tugging at my nipples. I moan with the biting sensation that clenches my sex, my hands covering his hands. His immediately move, pressing my palms to my own breasts, his hands over mine. His cheek is at my cheek as he says, “I told you not to touch me unless I gave you permission.”
“I need to touch you.”
“And I need you to touch me, baby. Just not yet.” His hands slide away from my hands, but one settles on my neck as he guides my mouth to his. His free hand is on my bac
kside and he squeezes. “Rest your weight on your elbows and then lift your butt. I’m going to spank you now, Aria.” His lips touch mine, his tongue a slice of demand before it’s gone and so is he. He stands up, waiting on me.
CHAPTER FIVE
Kace’s order ripples through me. I’m going to spank you now, Aria. There is no question that this moment is intimidating, but there is also no denying how present I am, how aroused. How willing to go wherever Kace leads. I lean forward and do exactly as he says. I settle on my elbows and lift my naked backside in the air.
The heat of his stare strokes my skin, the spike of his arousal a charge in the air while my nipples pucker against the carpet. There is the sound of a zipper and the rustle of clothing that tells me he’s undressing. And I know now why he turned off the music. He wanted me to drown in anticipation, in every little sound.
My cellphone chooses that moment to ring. I jolt with it and sit up, the push and pull of the erotic moment and reality punishing me. Kace kneels in front of me, masculine, naked tattooed perfection, and he’s holding my phone.
“It’s Gio.” He offers me my phone.
“How do you know it’s Gio?”
“Apparently, he has his old number back. His name flashed on your screen.”
I wonder if he ever really ditched his phone at all, but I shove aside that drama. I don’t reach for the phone, but there is part of me that wants to take it, that wants to answer the call, a part of me conditioned to allow fear for Gio to control me, but Walker is watching him. They’ll know if there is a problem. Gio isn’t in control. I am. “No,” I say. “I’ll call him back.”
“You’re sure? Gio—”
“Is the last person who gets control right now.” My hand goes to Kace’s powerful leg. I’m already breaking his rules, touching him, but I can’t help it. “He doesn’t get to control me or us.”
Seconds tick by and he is more stone than man, unmoving, unreadable until he tosses my phone aside. Another moment later, he’s dragging me to him, flush against his hard, naked body, and he’s kissing me, the taste of my need, of his, mingling in a sultry seduction that is all about hunger and passion. It’s all about trust.
A Sinful Encore Page 3