I tiptoed up the stairs, feeling a little guilty, but not enough to stop me. At the top, a large landing doubled as a second living room with a brown reading chair, built-in bookshelf, and brass floor lamp. Like the rest of the house, everything had been polished to perfection, looking like the newest antiques I’d ever seen.
I went to the first door and peeked inside. It was a nice-sized bedroom with homey floral tapestries and curtains. It looked like it had been decorated by someone’s grandmother. The next room had a desk and a closed laptop. Two televisions mounted to the wall displayed the weather channel and some sort of stock market stuff—the one with the ticker scrolling on the bottom of the screen. I went over and opened the laptop, which popped on immediately.
Yep, security code. Not that I would’ve dug around in his files—all right, maybe I would’ve at least done a search for my name or Cici’s—but I’d yet to find any personal photos. I thought he might at least have a screen saver. He did not.
I closed the thing and crossed the landing to the last door and cracked it open. The delicious smell enveloped me. This is Rook’s room—spicy, floral, masculine.
The extra-large bed had plain white linens, and the windows were covered with dark brown plantation shutters. A fireplace, opposite the bed, looked spit-shine new. The lamp on the nightstand had been left on. Other than that, there was no sign of any human being ever having lived in this room. No family photos. No personal items on the furniture or walls.
I went over to the nightstand, where a sad hotel-style phone sat. I slid open the drawer and frowned. A Bible? So he lived like a guest in his own hotel.
“Stephanie?” Rook’s voice came from the doorway.
I jumped inside my skin. “Oh God. You scared me.”
Rook stood there dripping wet in a white shirt, his dark pants soaked through, too. He had no shoes on.
“Mind telling me what you are doing?” he asked.
Shit. I’d been caught red-handed. My face flushed with embarrassment. “Oh, uh…I was just trying your phone. I hope you don’t mind.”
He crossed his well-built arms over his chest. “Are the phones downstairs not working?”
“I kept getting a busy signal,” I lied, knowing he wouldn’t buy my story.
His eyes stayed glued to mine, but he didn’t speak right away. “I see,” he finally said. “Well, the phones go through a satellite feed, and with the storm, there might be quite a bit of static, but simply dial nine for an outside line. I am going to get out of my wet clothes. You may call from here if you like.” He turned and left.
To my shock, he hadn’t seemed the least bit offended that I’d invaded his personal space. Of course, it didn’t feel personal at all, like this was just a room he slept in and nothing more. The entire house felt deprived of life—not in an ominous way, but in the way a desert lacked water or lush vegetation. Perhaps his walls were thicker than I’d thought. Maybe they shut out things as well as people.
But he sure as hell cares about this island. Whereas I only cared about the people in my life.
I stared at the phone for a moment, pondering about making that call I’d just lied about. Sooner or later, I had to tell my dad. I had to. I couldn’t leave him in the dark about Cici until he came home.
My heart accelerating, I sat on the soft bed and dialed. Static crackled on the line, but it rang immediately.
“Hello?” my father’s deep, recognizable voice said.
“Dad?”
“Stephanie, what is the matter?” He sounded concerned but not panicked. I wondered where he was.
“Are you back home yet?” I asked.
“No. I’m staying a few more weeks. One of the other reporters was killed yesterday, so I’ve got to cover her.”
I winced. Why did he always do this? Growing up, he would be away weeks at a time. Sometimes more, depending on whatever military operation he covered. Then he’d come home and Cici and I would feel a sense of peace for a few precious days until he left again. It was hell growing up, never knowing if I would see my dad again. I think, in many ways, it explained my Rook-like armor. Getting close to people only meant more worry.
As for my father, I never understood how he could leave us and subject us to that sort of torment after we’d lost our mother. Now, I wondered if my father was simply broken after losing my mom. Maybe being in the middle of war and death helped him escape his own pain. I wasn’t sure, but as I sat there holding the phone to my ear, I couldn’t help thinking that Rook had been right, eventually I would need closure. Otherwise, my brain would continue to spiral out of control with grief.
“Stephanie? Are you still there?” my dad asked.
I swallowed a dry lump in my throat. “Yeah. I’m still here.” I clenched my hand tightly around the receiver, knowing how hard this would be.
Just say it, Stephanie. Say it. “Dad, I have horrible news: Cici is dead.” The tears trickled from my eyes. Saying those words stung the deepest recesses of my soul.
“Dad? Are you there?” I asked after several moments of silence.
“Yes. How did you hear?”
I wasn’t sure what to tell him. “I…uh…well, I found the people who saw her last. Remember that vacation she won? Well, I was right. She died there. She went swimming and drowned. They tried to find her, but she never turned up.”
I couldn’t bear telling him that she’d been drinking.
“So Rook told you everything, then. Sonofabitch,” my father mumbled. “He made a promise.”
My blood pressure crashed to the floor. “I-I’m sorry. Did you say Rook? You know him?”
“He came to see me after Cici went missing. I told him to make sure this didn’t go public because I wanted to tell you myself when the time was right.”
“You knew?” I whispered. “You knew this whole time what happened and you didn’t tell me?”
Everything began to make sense. My father had not gone on a media rampage, searching for Cici. He had not pushed the authorities for answers. He’d simply retreated into his work, and I chalked it up to his inability to deal with it. But I’d been wrong.
“You fucking knew.” The anger began to build. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me? I’ve been looking for her for months!”
“I felt it would be less painful for you, Stephanie. You lost your mother, and not knowing the truth about Cici would, at the very least, allow you to keep some hope alive.”
“Are you out of your mind? I’ve been going crazy! How could you do this to me? How?”
“You’re a child, Stephanie. You’re not used to dealing with the real world. Not like I am.”
A child? A child! “I’m not the one running off to war zones, taking pictures of people getting blown up because I can’t deal with my spouse dying over twenty years ago.” The tears streamed down my face. I couldn’t fucking believe this.
“Well, I am sorry you feel that way, Stephanie. I was only trying to do what I thought was best for you.”
“You don’t know what’s best for me. You don’t even know me. Goodbye.” I ended the call, feeling like I’d been punched in the stomach.
“I’m sorry, Stephanie. I wanted to tell you, but it wasn’t my place to interfere.” Rook stood in front of me, now wearing a fresh white T-shirt and a dry pair of faded jeans. How long he’d been there, I didn’t know, but I assumed he’d heard most of the conversation.
“I don’t know what to say.” I placed my hand over my heart.
Rook sat beside me on the bed. “I think you have every right to be upset, but I do not believe he intended to harm you. When I went to see him and give him the news, his first reaction was to protect you. He wanted to be sure I didn’t contact you or tell the press. He said he needed time to figure out how to break the news.”
“How could you?” I whispered, talking to my father inside my head, Rook taking my words as directed at him.
“Who was I to argue with a grieving father’s wishes?” Rook replied. “But then you
showed up here, and I saw what this was doing to you. I had to say something.”
I nodded, my mind working to understand. “Here I was, thinking you were this giant asshole, trying to protect your island from a scandal or whatever, but it was really my dad who wanted to hide this.” I drew a shaky breath.
“I offered your father help—anything he needed—but he refused. So I will make the offer to you, Stephanie.”
“What kind of help?” I looked into his eyes and the warmth had returned. It drew me right in, promising that everything would be all right.
“Anything,” he replied.
“You mean like money?” Because I hoped to God that wasn’t what he’d meant.
Rook slid his hand on top of mine. “I would not dare put a price tag on your sister’s life. It wouldn’t be right. But if you need money, I am happy to—”
“That’s not what I meant.” I shook my head.
“Stephanie, then let me help you overcome this.”
“Thank you, but role-playing isn’t going to change the fact that my father kept the truth from me or that I’ve lost someone so close.”
“Of course.” He slid his strong arm around me and pulled me into his chest.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to yell, but I felt beaten down inside. And then there was a tiny part of me that felt lighter. The burden of having to break my father’s heart had gone, leaving only myself to face.
I pressed my cheek into Rook’s chest while he held me. His heart thrummed in my ear, and his broad chest gently rose and fell with his breath. I felt so good here, so safe. He felt like a tiny island of sanity standing right in the middle of the deadly storm inside my head. His mere presence dialed down the noise.
“How do you do that?” I asked in a quiet voice.
“Do what?”
“Make me feel calm and crazy at the same time,” I replied.
He stroked the back of my hair. “I do not know, but you make me feel the same way.”
In that moment, I wanted him to kiss me. The connection I felt was soothing, but intense—carnal and animalistic.
I pulled back and gazed into those cool eyes. I wondered if he knew what I was thinking.
His eyes darted to my lips and then back to my eyes. He leaned in and kissed me softly. He definitely knew.
He slid his hand to my cheek and kissed me again. His lips felt like satin and sin, while the bristly whiskers around his mouth felt rough and masculine.
I glided a hand over his strong chest, enjoying the firmness and warmth beneath my fingertips.
His strong hand went to my waist and gripped me firmly, holding me away, like he wasn’t sure about any of this.
No. Don’t stop this time, I prayed.
I moved my hand behind his neck and ran my fingers through the soft thick hair at the back of his neck, pressing my mouth into him.
He still held back, and I knew it was because of his rule. It had to be. But I didn’t really qualify as a guest anymore, now did I? And he had said “anything.”
“I want you to fuck me,” I whispered between searing hot kisses.
Hunger sizzled in his eyes for the space of a dozen heartbeats before he brought his mouth back to my waiting lips, his tongue pushing and sliding against mine. He tasted sweet and fresh, like mint.
His kiss—lips, tongue, breath—instantly ignited a heat deep inside. I felt my body temperature rise and an instant throbbing dampness between my legs. His hand slid underneath my shirt, floated over my stomach, and up to my bare breast. I hadn’t put on a bra after my shower.
He let out a low, deep groan of approval as his rough hand swept over my erect nipple and then squeezed my breast. The way he massaged it and touched it was like he couldn’t get close enough.
I broke our kiss and reached for his shirt, lifting from the hem. His chest was magnificent, perfectly formed pecs with perfectly tanned skin. And his sexy abs were unreal, divided into deep little squares. He is so damned beautiful.
I wanted to feel that smooth warm skin pressed to mine while he pushed his cock inside me. I wanted to hear him groan in my ear as he came between my legs.
I pulled off my shirt, and Rook drew a sharp breath, entranced by my breasts. His two hands greedily cupped them while I studied his glistening, sensual lips.
He looked into my eyes. “You are utterly stunning, Stephanie.”
Hearing his gruff, deep voice say those words pushed me right off the cliff. I slammed my mouth into his, and he pushed me back, laying himself over me, his one leg wedged between my thighs.
His hard cock pressed through his jeans into my throbbing clit. I felt frantic for more. I needed him inside me.
I slid my hand between us and popped the top button of his jeans to make room for my hand. My fingertips immediately found the velvety head of his cock, damp with pre-cum.
His body jerked in reaction to my touch, and he let out a moan as I circled the wetness over his tip. Ohgod, he’s so fucking hot.
He grabbed my hands and slid them over my head, and his kisses turned more demanding. He worked his entire body over mine, grinding against my c-spot, his hands holding my arms firmly in place.
“You’re so beautiful,” he muttered under his breath, his mouth moving to my neck, licking and sucking.
He crossed my wrists and continued pinning them with one hand while his other hand reached under my waistband.
I gasped as his fingers slid right over my clit and then dipped inside. “You’re wet. So fucking wet,” he whispered.
He moved his hand lower and angled his fingers to go deeper. My body responded with bucking hips and panted breaths.
“Fuck,” he groaned, clearly enjoying the feel of me, but I couldn’t take it anymore.
I snapped my wrists free, moved my hand to the waistband of his jeans, and began pushing them down. Once past his hips, I slid my hands over his naked hard ass, gripping the smooth flexy mounds as he ground his hard cock against me.
With one fast, frantic movement, he pulled back and ripped my shorts down to my calves. I freed my legs, opening myself all the way.
He went to his knees and gazed down at the slick valley between my thighs. Carnal hunger glimmered in his beautiful eyes.
Without a word, seeming lost to his lust, he yanked down his jeans a few more inches, completely freeing himself. His balls were tight, and his long, thick cock was hard as hell.
He laid himself over me, returning his mouth to mine, his kisses wild. I’d never felt this way with a man—so out of control, so in need of him.
He moved one hand between our bodies and massaged my entrance with the tip of his shaft, nearly making me come.
He groaned deeply as my wetness coated the head of his erection.
What is he waiting for? The need was unbearable. I craved the sensation of his huge cock slamming into me, of him coming deep inside. It didn’t even occur to me that we weren’t using protection. There was only need.
I moved my hips, urging him deeper.
Rook reached for my hands again and pinned them above my head, breaking our kiss. He looked me in the eyes. “Are you sure you want this?”
“Yes. Are you?”
I didn’t expect him to take more than a split second to think about it. His cock was hard, the head pulsing at my entrance. Our bodies were slick with sweat. Our breathing was frantic. He wanted it. I know he did.
“I-I do.” He didn’t move.
“But?” I blinked at him.
“James?” A female voice came from the doorway.
Startled, we both looked over. Standing there was a young black woman with her braided hair wrapped up into a knotted bun.
His body stiffened with the wrong kind of tension.
“What are you doing?” she said accusatorily.
“Leave. I will speak to you in a moment,” he barked.
She disappeared, and he quickly was up, putting himself away. His eyes were filled with anger, and the sexual hunger had completely evaporated.
I sat up and pulled a pillow over my naked body. “Who’s she?”
And he’d better have a good fucking answer. Because from the sound of her voice, she had to be his lover or something.
“Never mind,” he grumbled, going for his wadded-up shirt on the floor.
“Never mind?” I spat and swung my feet to the floor, grabbing my own T-shirt.
“I told you it’s complicated.”
“Ohmygod. You’re in some relationship with an employee, is that it?”
“No.” He pulled his shirt over his head, while I threw on my shorts.
“Who is she, then?”
“It’s not important, but we cannot ever do that again.” He ran his hand over his head. “Not ever. Do you understand?”
Wait. Why is he scolding me? I hadn’t done anything wrong.
“Please return to your room,” he added. “Call reception if you need anything. I will see you in the morning.” He headed for the doorway, but I was not about to let him off like that.
I went after him and grabbed his arm. “Rook, wait. Who is that woman? Did you just cheat on her with me? Because it sure the hell fucking seems like it.”
He snarled. “She is not involved with me in any romantic sense whatsoever, and before you ask any more questions or speak to me like that again, I will tell you to mind your manners and remember who I am.”
“An asshole?”
Snarling, he leaned in. “Worse than that,” he hissed. “And you would be wise to stay away.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Rook had disappeared down the hall and then a door slammed. I heard his deep voice scolding that woman, who yelled right back. I would’ve given anything to understand what they said, but the language was not English. Perhaps French or some Caribbean dialect?
Who cares? Because he had no right to speak to me that way. Maybe that woman had done me a favor. Yeah, but why would he turn on me like that? It didn’t make any sense.
I returned to my room, shut off the lights, and got into bed. I needed sleep. I needed this shit of a day to end. But an hour later or so, I once again found myself tossing and turning, while lightning and thunder, mixed with gusts of violent wind, rattled the windows nonstop. Meanwhile, my mind whirled in vicious circles, attempting to make sense of everything that had happened to my life. Cici. My dad. Rook. Mr. Price. Everything was a fucking mess and, frankly, I couldn’t be more pissed off at the world.
Mr. Rook Page 14