by K. V. Rose
Instead, I give her a tour of my house, quickly, skipping my bedroom because I don’t trust myself there and because Benji is hiding in there, for that very reason.
She takes everything in, not speaking, only nodding when I point things out. Like the paintings of old book covers hung high on the walls in the living rooms. She wants to be a writer. Or at least, she wanted to be one. Who knows what she wants now, aside from my dad’s money.
We end up in the kitchen, across from one another at the island. Where one usually serves dinner. Except, you know, that’s not what we’re serving here tonight.
“Nice house,” she murmurs, eyes on me.
I laugh under my breath. “More like an overpriced mausoleum.”
Her eyes snap to mine. She arches a brow. “Why’d you buy it then?”
I shrug, slide my hands in my pockets. “It’s secluded. By the water.”
She searches my eyes, like she’s looking for something. Like she’s wondering what I really wanted her here for. I hate to admit it, but I’m kind of wondering the same thing. I’m kind of wishing Benji wasn’t here. That there weren’t cameras in my basement. I’m starting to think this was stupid. That it’s always been stupid.
But then I see Jack again. The blood. The video. Her look of shock and fear. How she stumbled away from my dad, from Jack’s phone.
That’s when I remember why I’m doing this.
“Want a drink?” I ask her, because I sure fucking do.
She folds her lip between her teeth and nods.
I open the fridge, pull out two beers, close it with my elbow, and hand her one, across from the island.
She takes it, leans against the grey granite countertop. Her eyes roam over the black cabinets, the bay windows that overlook the pool in the backyard, lit by lamps that look like tiki torches.
The bottle dangles from her fingers, hovering between the counter and her lips. I force the memory of what she tastes like away. Of what she feels like. But I can’t stop staring at her, her straight nose that tilts up, just a little at the end. Her cheekbones, high and smooth. The slope of her small breasts, the way her tucked in shirt narrows around her waist.
She finally takes a drink, her lips over the mouth of the bottle. When she’s done, she looks toward me.
“I thought you said you wanted me over for dinner.”
I don’t say anything. I just stare at her. Did she really think it would be this easy? Did she really think I’d just ask her over for dinner and we’d talk about the fact my brother shot himself in the head because she fucked someone else and sent the video to him?
She didn’t even deny it that night. It had been sent before I found her at the party. Not from her number, of course. No, from a number that didn’t actually exist. But she was in the video. I would recognize those lips anywhere. And the guy’s hand moving over her body...
She actually thought I wanted her here for dinner. She actually thought there was something she could say to change what she burned between us.
I know Jack hadn’t left her alone since the breakup. I know he had called her nonstop. I saw it, in his phone. After we went through it, searching for anything else. Any indication that we could definitely pin this on Riley. And then we had destroyed it. The phone, everything in it. We couldn’t have the police know that my brother had put a gun to his head—my father’s—over a poor girl born to a junkie mother. At least, that’s the part my parents cared about. I just cared that Jack was fucking dead and no one was going to be held responsible.
She sighs, shakes her head. Sets the bottle down on the counter. She picks up her tattered black purse from the floor and threads it over her shoulder.
“I should go,” she mutters, straightening her shirt and looking down, at the floor. “I shouldn’t have come.”
She pushes herself away from the counter and starts to walk away, to head down the stairs. But she’s not leaving that easily. I need her to leave my family the fuck alone. She’s done enough damage.
I stop her, blocking her way to the stairwell with my hand on her arm. I take another pull from my beer.
Her eyes find mine. Her brow creases, and she finally looks worried. She finally starts to understand this isn’t dinner. This isn’t redemption. This isn’t even a ceasefire. It’s the end of the war.
“Caden...”
“You thought I’d let you get away with it?” I finish my drink, drag her along as I set it on the counter.
She frowns. “I didn’t. I never got away with it.” There’s a hollowness to her words. Something that makes me pause. Makes me think, once again, that this is a bad idea.
But only for a second.
“You couldn’t stop, could you? With the video. With Jack’s blood painting his floor red. You had to go a little further, get my father in your mouth, too.”
She tries to pull away from me. “Let me go.”
I yank her toward me, her back against mine. I pin her arms to her sides, so she can’t move. She breathes hard against me, her back heaving with every breath.
“You’re not what I thought you were, Riley. I thought you were fucked up. I thought you were strange. But I never knew you were such a goddamn monster.”
She twists her way out of my arms.
“Run,” I taunt her, my mouth curving into a smile. “Run.”
She stares at me blankly, then she shakes her head. “I’m not playing these—”
“I’ll give you a head start. When I find you, I’m going to tear you apart.”
And she runs, without a glance back.
I’m true to my word. I can at least be that. I wait, count to ten, really slow, like I did before a wrestling match. Like I do before a meeting. Like I do when I fire someone. I wonder if she’ll try to leave. But I hear her stop on the first floor. I take the stairs down quietly, two at a time, holding my breath. Waiting to see what she does.
She heads down into the basement.
I didn’t even have to try very hard. She doesn’t really want to run away. She just wants me to chase her.
I follow her quietly, know she’s probably fumbling along the wall, looking for a light switch. She’ll find it, but it’s not going to come on. It was always going to end here, in this room. I take the last step down into the basement, a quick glance along the walls and I see the cameras are invisible. I don’t even know where they are.
Besides, it’s nearly pitch-black in here. She won’t see anything. And she definitely doesn’t see me. Through the darkness, I can hear her breathing. She lets out a small whimper, and I wonder if she’ll change her mind. I wonder if she’ll come back up this way.
I slip into the shadows along the wall opposite her, still watching. She’s a dark figure in the absence of light, but her hair, with those natural highlights, almost shines in the darkness. That’s all I can see of her, like she was in the woods at Lake Jordan. Too bad Benji is still upstairs, not yet ready to play.
“Caden.” Her voice is so small. She whispers my name and I close my eyes against the rush of feeling that runs through me as she does.
Then the moment is gone.
Quietly, on silent steps, I cross the space between us.
I stand behind her, close enough to touch her if I wanted to. And I do want to. But I won’t. Not yet.
She feels me behind her. I know, because she’s holding her breath now. I don’t hear her little inhales and exhales. She twists her head, but I catch her hair in my hand, yanking her head back.
Her breath catches.
“Caden,” she whispers my name again, and I look over her, into her eyes, gleaming in the darkness.
“Do you like this?” I pull harder on the fistful of her soft hair in my hands, and she nods, her eyes not leaving mine.
I press her closer to me, until she’s flush against me, my cock throbbing at her nearness. At her fear.
“Do you want this?” I ask, pressing into her more.
She hesitates. I wait. I can be patient for this vengeance.
&n
bsp; Finally, she nods.
“Do you want it more than you wanted Jack?” I know that’s not part of the plan. I know I shouldn’t ask it, because it only hurts both of us. But I like the pain.
Her eyes darken.
“I hate you,” she whispers, and she thinks she means it.
I put my hand on her throat. “That makes it more fun, doesn’t it?”
She moans softly as I press into her again, and then I spin her around by her hair, so she’s facing me, my fingers still tangled in her waves.
I move my free hand down her back, cupping her firm ass. Her eyes stay on mine as I move my hands to the front of her pants, pushing her against the wall at our backs.
“Do you always fuck men you hate?” I ask her, one hand on her collarbone, the other unbuttoning her pants. She doesn’t bother fighting back.
“Caden,” she says through tangled breaths, “I don’t hate you.”
I laugh. “You’re going to, after this.”
Then I get to my knees, eyes still on hers, and undo her belt buckle, yanking down her pants, gripping her thighs. She’s tense in my hands, and I’m glad. I’m glad she doesn’t think this is fun and games. Because it isn’t. It never was with me.
She puts her hands on my head and steps out of her pants, her breathing uneven.
I don’t think about the cameras. I don’t think about Benji. I don’t even think about my stupid fucking father as I met her gaze, still on my knees.
All I can think about is her.
Twenty-Eight
Present
He’s off his knees, pressing against me again, one hand on the wall beside us. I have no idea why we’re doing this. He didn’t want me for dinner. He didn’t want to talk. He wanted this. And after all these years, I fucking do too.
“Let me,” he says, voice low, his hand running up my thigh.
“You hate me,” I whisper, knees trembling.
He smiles against my throat. “I don’t need to love you for this, Riley. Let me.”
My legs part for him, and his hand slides down my panties, and I moan, bucking into his touch.
“Oh Riley,” he says softly, his face in my neck, “you’re so wet. For me.”
I shouldn’t be here. Benji’s warning is ringing in my ear, but so is Caden’s words, and his touch, and the scent of him. The feel of him.
I know it isn’t right. It’s so, so wrong. But I push back thoughts of what happened between us. Of the hurt and the anger and how we burned out before we even started.
Caden slides a finger into me and I moan into his shirt, my breath a shuddering gasp. He tilts my head back, his tongue trails down my throat, down my chest, over my shirt. One hand still inside of me, he uses the other to push up my shirt, and then his mouth finds my nipple, tugging it with his teeth.
I groan, arching my back, pressing into him.
He slides another finger inside of me, and my legs shake beneath me.
He goes to his knees again, pulls down my underwear with his teeth and they fall to the floor. Without giving me a chance to step out of them, his tongue slides up and down my slit, and he groans into me.
“You taste so damn good, Riley,” he says, and he nudges my legs further apart, two fingers still inside of me, his tongue flicking up and down my clit.
I run my hands through his dark blonde hair, yanking it as his tongue moves faster and faster between my legs.
“Caden.” I say his name, a whisper on my lips.
His fingers pump harder inside of me, as if he knows I’m close. Of course he knows. He might hate me, we might hate each other, but he knows everything about me. He always has.
When I feel as if I’m going to burst, I close my eyes, grip his hair tighter. My orgasm ripples through me, and I cry out his name again, as if it’s the only name I know. I clench around him, and he keeps his fingers in me as I ride the wave, his tongue licking the length of my slit, my wetness coating his mouth.
My breaths are shallow, but I open my eyes, let go of his hair.
He runs his wet fingers down my calves, and he looks up at me, his ice-blue eyes shining bright even in the darkness. A wicked smile curves his lips.
He’s still wearing clothes: dark jeans, a white dress shirt. I want to rip them off of him. But before I can move, he digs his nails into my legs, just a little.
I still.
“Tell me,” he says quietly, running his tongue along his top lip. “Does my father make you feel like this?”
I freeze.
Still feeling the echoes of that orgasm, I swear I’ve heard him wrong. He keeps his gaze on me, unmoving. But that smile is gone, replaced by something else. Anger.
My pulse quickens.
“What?” I manage to ask. My voice is nearly gone, it’s only a hoarse whisper that comes out.
He lets go of me and stands up. His hands go on either side of me and his eyes are no longer full of lust.
“Does he?” he asks, repeating his question. His eyes slide down my body, and I tug my shirt down. But I’m still naked from the waist down, and the humiliation crashes over me. He’s never seen me like this.
I should have known better.
I don’t know what he wants with me, but it isn’t this.
Not anymore.
I squat down to grab the rest of my clothes.
He catches my wrist and pulls me up, his eyes on mine. “I asked you a question, Riley.”
I shake my head. “What do you want from me?” I whisper, my face burning. I bite my lip, determined not to cry. I won’t cry. I don’t cry.
“I want the truth. You’ve fed me so many lies, Riley, that it shouldn’t kill you to tell me the truth. Just this once. Answer the question.” He lets go of my wrist and tips my chin up, holding my gaze.
Then I hear something upstairs. It sounds like footsteps.
Caden’s eyes darken, but he doesn’t otherwise seem concerned.
“I swear to God, Caden, if that woman is here—”
He smirks, cocks his head, his gaze predatory. “Would you like that? Or are you too…” his finger trails down my jaw, “selfish for that?”
I clench my thighs together, shaking my head as the footsteps get louder. “No,” I whisper. “No.”
He raises his brows, and he looks almost devilish. “Oh,” he croons, “you wouldn’t like to share me with anyone else? It seems only fair, all this time I’ve shared you.”
Whoever it is comes down the stairs.
Caden turns his head from me. “Did you hear that, Benji? She doesn’t want to share me.” He laughs, cold and cruel, and the hair on the nape of my neck stands on end.
Benji.
Benji comes down the steps, into view, and his eyes snake over me. Caden doesn’t move, doesn’t take his eyes off of Benji’s.
I reach down again, and this time, Caden doesn’t stop me.
When I do the buckle on my pants, Benji steps closer, his arms folded over his chest, until he’s side-by-side with Caden. Caden lowers his arms from the wall around my head.
Benji is taller, by nearly nothing. Staring at both of them, I feel genuine fear creep into my gut.
But Benji doesn’t say anything at all. Instead, he walks around us, and sits down in the couch in front of the television. He grabs a remote from between the theater seats and flips something on. I look from him to Caden, confused.
“What the fuck was this all about?” I ask.
Caden bites out a bitter laugh. “You tell me, love,” he says. He’s never called me that. Not once. It unnerves me. “Is this your kink?” he continues. “Do you like to fuck entire families?”
I shake my head. “What are you talking about?”
He’s not laughing now. “Don’t play stupid with me, Riley. That’s not really your style. I know Jack was never enough for you, but I thought I might have been. Or maybe that fuck in the video? But that wasn’t enough for you, was it? You just couldn’t wait to get your greedy little pussy around another Virani dick, could y
ou?”
I swallow the sob in my throat, my face burning.
“What the fuck are you crying about?” he snarls, his face half-hidden in shadows. He’s leaned against the wall of the basement and I wish, not for the first time, I hadn’t come here. For dinner. I was an idiot. Again.
Benji is still sitting in the theater seats, the TV on low, his head cocked to the side, arms hooked around the chair. He isn’t looking at us, but even in this enormous room, there’s no way he isn’t hearing us.
“I shouldn’t have come here. This was a mistake.” No matter there’s no way I could’ve resisted his offer, not with those eyes and that mouth and everything between us.
But I shouldn’t have come.
I pick up my purse, on the floor by my side, and make to walk up the stairs leading out of the basement.
He snatches my wrist, yanking me around. My bag falls to the floor and behind him, I see Benji turn in his seat to glance at us.
“I asked you a question, Riley,” Caden hisses, his light blue eyes gleaming in the darkness.
I look down at his hand around my wrist. “You’re hurting me.”
He drops it, and I face him fully.
“What. The. Fuck. Are you crying about?” He grinds out each word with menace and I feel the tears pricking behind my eyes again.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “I need to leave.”
“We both didn’t get to run away, Riley.” He takes a step closer, his shoulder bumping me. “I didn’t get to hide.”
I take a breath. I don’t want to say it...I really don’t. But his body against mine is fucking with my mind and I can’t help it when I say, “I loved him too.”
I whisper the words at first, looking down at the floor.
“What was that?” he asks quietly, his shoulder brushing against mine again. I can smell him, that heady scent that’s just his alone. And me, too. I smell me on him.
I look up, meet his gaze. “I loved him, too, Caden.”
I see his jaw twitch, his nostrils flare. “Did you love him while you were on me?” He doesn’t raise his voice, but he might as well have screamed it at me.
I shake my head. “Caden, I lost him too—”