The Rebirth of Sin (Wicked Trinity Book 2)

by Courtney Lane

  “I don’t, but I’m trying to talk my way out of persistently blushing at your compliments.”

  “Have you been hiding in a cave your whole life? How is it that you don’t hear this all the time?”

  Something changed in his eyes. It was a marked sadness that affected me deeply. If ever I thought our connection wouldn’t remain once we were no longer in the dark, I was wrong. It was stronger. Much, much stronger. I was completely enraptured and quickly developed a craving for more of what he brought out of me when he was around.

  I quickly took one of his hands and linked my pinky around his, drawing his eye back to me. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No.” He shook his head and dropped his hand from my face. “It’s late. I should take you home.” Slipping his hand fully into mine, he walked me back to the valet station, keeping me close to the buildings while he walked on the side of the curb, taking a protective stance over me.

  UPON MY ARRIVAL TO my parents’ home after my dinner with Braedan, I received a text. Braedan wanted to make sure I was safe.

  I wasn't used to Braedan’s brand of chivalry, but I was slowly becoming accustomed to it.

  Two weeks after I attended the dinner with Braedan, Brandy showed up to my parents’ home and pulled me out of the idea of curling up with a good book and forced me into a party dress. I kept up my correspondence with Braedan, usually exchanging texts with him or having conversations about the mundane. We spoke at least twice a day and exchanged texts numerous times in between. We never spoke about Rebirth or anything regarding Noah again.

  BRANDY TUGGED ME OUT of the car, parked at the curb in front of her house, and into the brownstone she shared with her on again off again live-in boyfriend. He was a pharmaceutical representative, currently on a business trip to Orlando.

  At the front door, men in togas and roman gladiator armor were lined up along the foyer. The men were brawny and painted in gold metallic body paint. All the models wore masks depicting Greek gods.

  Brandy was always known as the socialite party girl. She usually hosted themed parties every week. Her celebrations were responsible for putting many up and coming clubs on the map.

  “This had to be your idea.” I finally cracked a smile. “You’re obsessed with Spartacus.”

  “Who wouldn’t be?” Laughing heartedly, she put an arm around my neck. “All those hot sweaty men and huge cocks? It’s a girl like me’s dream.”

  The crowd was numerous, and I found it strangely comforting.

  Linking my arm with hers, I walked alongside her into the living room area. “What’s this really about?”

  “It’s your birthday tomorrow. Did you forget? And since I know your mother probably has some stuffy event planned to celebrate the occasion, I’m doing this for you. Consider it your pre-party party.” Brandy stopped walking and stepped in front of me. “I’m trying to get you out of your funk.” She grasped a lock of my hair and flipped it over my shoulder. “You shouldn’t be in one. Noah doesn’t deserve your depression. He was an asshole, and I for one am glad that he’s out of your life.” From one of the trays wielded by a costumed man, she grabbed a glass of champagne and insisted I drink it.

  I sipped it to appease her but kept from downing the entire glass. I was still on a strict pain management regime. While I could’ve stopped taking the pills, I was concerned about the effects of the withdrawal from the strong painkillers. “Thank you for doing this.”

  She smiled, topped off my glass unnecessarily with another glass from the tray, and then promptly directed me to mingle with the crowd.

  An hour into the party, after catching up with a few acquaintances, I navigated my way down the hall and found the den. A few people were there in the midst of having a quiet conversation.

  “Are you guys going to be here for a while?” I asked them.

  Without changing the pace of their conversation, they nodded at me. I sat on the couch across the room and relaxed back, closing my eyes. Their informal exchange served as comforting background noise.

  A sudden pressure inside my chest forced me to jolt upright. Perusing the once heavily occupied room, I found myself completely alone. Panicked, I stood up. A man cleared his voice in the doorway. As he stood there in one of the more revealing uniforms, my body turned rigid.

  The gold paint he was decorated in tended to matte and amplify maybe not the best parts; he was an exception. His body was a perfect model for his costume. The dips and curves of his form were a beautiful roadmap that sent a tinge straight down my spine and to the area between my thighs. I could barely see his eyes through the almond shaped holes of his gold mask, shielded in black mesh.

  In front of him, he held up a small, golden brown bunt cake, drizzled with creamy frosting, and maybe caramel, topped with a sprinkling of coconut shavings. My stomach instantly growled, longing for a taste of what was in his hands. The cake provided at the party, a massive chocolate cake in the shape of two penises with accents of white butter cream frosting, was less than appetizing for two reasons.

  It was definitely within Brandy’s modus operandi to hire an escort to seduce me out of my sour mood. The man before me was monumentally tempting and it wasn’t due to his external appearance. Deeply, I felt as though I might have known him.

  I became conscious of how alone we were and could no longer hear the crowd down the hall.

  Thoughts swirled around my mind stating that he was Braedan. The familiarity kept the need to panic and run at bay.

  “Did…Brandy put you up to this?” I asked, trying to keep my words carefully selected to avoid offending him if he wasn’t actually an escort and I actually did know him and he was Braedan.

  “Not…really.”

  The sound of his voice immediately soothed me. “Braedan.” I grinned and approached him. “I—”

  He held up a finger, stopping shy of my lips and shook his head, deeming my apology unnecessary. “I came bearing contraband.”

  “Oh?” I walked forward with a bit more sway in my hips leaving only the cake to divide the distance between us.

  He lit the candle implanted in the cake and it sparkled and fizzled, illuminating the room in an amber light.

  My smile was untamed and uncontrolled. “That’s your idea of contraband?”

  “You haven’t tasted the cake.” His head angled down for a moment before leveling at me. “I was right about your smile.”

  Becoming self-conscious, I unsuccessfully tried to temper it. “Right how?”

  “It might’ve been something I said in my head. It’s…spell-binding.”

  My cheeks puffed out as I began to grin broadly. “Can I see your face again, Mr. Michaels? ”

  “It’s not Sander or Mr. Michaels. Please, call me Braedan. After all, we did have a first date, didn’t we?”

  I stepped closer. “It wasn’t a date.”

  He never moved, and though I couldn’t see his gorgeous eyes to determine it, the weight of his stare was tangible.

  “Okay,” I simpered, “it was a date.” My eyes lingered over his body, perusing his form. Every muscle on his upper body was nicely defined, making him appear quietly strong. He lifted the mask from his face and tossed it onto the nearest item—a chair. Strands of his moderately angular haircut grazed across his broad jaw. He brushed his hand up to move his gleaming black hair from his face.

  How can he be real? I sank my incisors into the plump flesh at the corner of my mouth. “It’s really nice to see you again.” My attention was pulled to the textured area of his shoulder to what I assumed could’ve been a burn scar running along his neck.

  “I was invited to the party by Brandy, and of course, informed it was the day before your birthday.” His heavy lids came down across his eyes. His thick, glistening lashes—that belonged on a strip and sold as mink eyelashes—cast a shadow over his bright grey eyes. “The mask…was more or less a coincidence.”

  “Are you sure it was Brandy who invited you and not Veronica?”
r />   “They were both…very convincing. Not that I needed their persuasion to see you again.”

  I touched my neck as his words blazed a trail on my skin. “Seems like my mind is never clear to ask you the right things when you’re around. I understand why you’re helping me, but this? Why you were so drawn to me? A connection doesn’t just begin with a news story about my ordeal, and we never interacted at Rebirth.”

  “You’re right,” he said without a hint of anger or irritation in his voice. “Why does anyone step closer to the things they find beautiful, knowing it may damage what they saw from afar?”

  “I’m standing pretty close to you, and it’s definitely not damaging what I saw from afar. It’s better.”

  “Keaton,” he said breathlessly with a chortle. “I’d like to fit my head through the door when I leave.”

  “I think I’m overcompensating because you said, or inferred, that you don’t hear compliments often. Or maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m just saying it because it’s true. God…Braedan.” He was quickly becoming an eroding agent to what little bit of self-control I had when he was around. Desire was once something foreign to me. Before, I only wanted to experience the feeling of pleasure, but with him…I wanted more.

  He bit into the corner of his smirk and his eyes became laced with a blinding amount of sensuality. “My reasons are deeper beyond simple curiosity or to share our experiences,” he answered my earlier question. “Are you going to tell me that, even now, the connection isn’t shared?”

  Continuously rubbing the lingering burn at the back of my neck, I shook my head. “I would’ve expected you…would be here in one of your signature suits.” Not that I’m at all complaining. I perused over his body again and moved involuntarily closer.

  His chin tilted down. “That was my mistake. Obviously, my invitation was mixed up with a stripper’s uniform requirements.”

  I snorted in laughter and as I did, I couldn’t help but try to restrain it.

  “It’s been a long time since you’ve laughed like that, hasn’t it?”

  “Can you blame me?”

  “Give it time,” he promised. “Things will get better for you.” He pushed the cake toward me. “Make a wish.”

  Nodding, I took my time in closing my eyes. I could hear the shifting of his feet as he neared me. I startled and stepped backward.

  “Don’t move and keep your eyes closed.”

  The power he suddenly imposed over me made me easily comply. As I rounded my lips, preparing to blow, a heat flittered down my nose. The scent of menthol suffused my senses. Surprising myself, my lips parted in response. The warmth moved away and was instead replaced by the sweet smell of coconut and caramel. “Open your mouth.”

  His words immediately shut me down. Visions of being on my knees, forced to open my mouth and perform seeped into my mind.

  Too scared to open my eyes and see the scene before me, since it had been replaced with a scene from my living nightmare, I jammed my eyes tightly closed. “I can’t…” I pursed my quivering lips together to prevent from falling apart at the seams.

  He took my hand from beneath the plate, leaving it to balance on my palm. He dipped two of my fingers into the soft spongy layer and forced them to curl and spoon out a portion. He lifted my hand up. Gooseflesh rushed up my arm.

  Wet. Warm. His mouth surrounded my fingers and immediately made me shiver. His tongue licked the crease in my fingers and circled the tips. Feeling light-headed, I swayed left to right.

  He slipped my hands slowly down his supple lips. The tender swell of his mouth and the prickly brush of the stubble on his hard, sharp jawline met my fingertips. “Open your mouth again.”

  Trepidatiously, I opened my mouth. The cool metal of the fork pressed past my lips and the explosion of tastes from the moist rum cake melted in my mouth. There was no other way to describe the taste other than heavenly. “So good,” I moaned.

  “Keep your eyes closed,” he warned, catching onto my need to retract my eyelids a little. “It will become sweeter.”

  I opened my mouth for a little more. Softness brushed against my mouth, making my lips close. My mind screamed at me to run. But my chaotically beating heart pined for more. Fingertips brushed up against my lips. Hands cradled my jaw. His fingers pushed at the corners of my mouth, forcing it to come apart.

  His mouth hovered over mine, breathing me in and luring me closer to him. He caressed the dip in my top lip, methodically moving his lips downward. Cradling the swell of my bottom lip, he sucked it gently. Barely pressing against one another, our lips met. The erratic pace of our breaths intermingled. A sizzle of desire wrapped me up in its unbearable longing. Starving for more, I opened my mouth wider, inviting him to stop his tease.

  The tickle of his tongue toyed with the tip of mine. His lips firmed in their caress. The sharpness of his teeth dipped into my bottom lip, pulling my lips farther apart.

  His kiss cured my fear; it was the equivalent of a welcome embrace on a blistery, cold night. I could only recall one kiss that felt remarkably the same—fell short to Braedan’s expert mouth. It was once the only time I would count that a man had ever been gentle with me. Making me feel wanted, loved, and beautiful.

  His firm secure grip grabbed the back of my head. He pressed his lips firmly against mine, pulling my bottom lip between his and forced it to open. The tip of his tongue teased the swell of my bottom lip before he pressed his open mouth to mine. His tongue slid inside, circling the tip of my tongue. It thrust deeper, penetrating with gentle urgings, undulating between my tongue and the roof of my mouth.

  The shocking euphoria weakened me completely.

  My knees buckled.

  My body swayed.

  My limbs began to tremble.

  I nearly dropped the cake.

  Through a gasp, his name slipped from my lips, vibrating across his mouth. He pulled me closer, kissing me deeper and abruptly stopped when the fever reached an uncomfortable level. I panted, aching for more.

  “It’s midnight,” his smooth voice rolled across my lips with tingling waves. “Allow me to be the first to say happy birthday, Keaton.”

  The air turned cooler. I opened my eyes to a blown out extinguished sparkler and Braedan no longer standing in front of me. Fully conscious that the room was a little darker than I’d like, and I was alone while the party was winding down, I held onto the cake, having every intention to bring it home with me, and made my way back to the living room.

  AFTER RETURNING HOME AND preparing for bed, I received a text from Braedan:

  Please let me know that you made it home safely.

  The thought of his kiss never left my mind. I could still feel it on my lips. Every time I closed my eyes, I remembered and it sent a throbbing pulse down my spine. I typed a message in return:

  Your words are curing.

  Your kisses made love to my mouth.

  I can’t imagine what it would feel to have you be with me.

  Inside me.

  The message shocked me. Once repulsed by intimacy, I realized I’d never really experienced it. Having tasted it, felt it, and falling for its vow of unending trips to bliss, I wanted it. I wanted it with him.

  Shaking my head at the inappropriateness, I tried to delete the message, my trembling finger slipped and instead pressed send.

  Panicking, I dropped my phone on the mattress.

  It rang almost immediately with Braedan’s name displayed across the screen. I picked up the phone gingerly and tried to sound causal in my greeting, “Hey. I made it home safely, and I’m going to turn in.”

  “And before you do…you’re going to repeat what you typed in the message.”

  “I can’t.” My voice was involuntarily small and quiet. “I really shouldn’t have sent that to you in the first place. With everything that I’ve been through, I’m not sure if I’m ready. I’m sorry I—”

  “Keaton,” he warned, his voice holding a commanding authority that stripped away my attempts to rem
ain coy.

  Slowly and awkwardly, I said the words.

  The line went silent for too long to bring me comfort. “Are you there?”

  “Sleep well tonight,” he purred into the phone and ended the call.

  Exhausted from a difficult day at F.A.C.E., I exhaled and held tightly to my glass of water while I watched my mother’s friends and associates mingle inside my parents’ home. Walking through the house, while exchanging small talk with a few people along the way, I made my way to the kitchen to take a pain pill and drool over my birthday cake—a red velvet sheet cake that could’ve doubled as a wedding cake. My phone buzzed the instant I placed it down on the counter, alerting me to a call from Brandy.

  “I’m sorry, Brandy,” I apologized, knowing what she wanted. I couldn’t slip out on the party my mother had thrown for me. “I can’t make it to your sex party.”

  “Oh, no you don’t! I know not a single person there is your friend. I bet your mother only invited her associates, coworkers, and investors. The party here is actually being held in your honor. Sonja’s on board. Hell, she’s letting me have it at her house. Come on. It will be fun. You can watch if you don’t want to engage, but I don’t know why you wouldn’t. There are condoms and hot underwear models galore.

  I clasped my hand to my forehead and shook my head. “It wouldn’t be a good place to be seen with my mother in the middle of campaigning.”

  “There are Senators here, and I think the governor is here, too. Everyone is hidden under masks. I can’t see them, but I know their voices and they couldn’t fool me. Just don’t talk and you’ll be completely incognito.”

  “Brandy, I can’t.” For more reasons than I could exemplify to her. Being in the midst of people engaging in various sexual activities would remind me of the place I was trying to escape from—the place where I seemed mentally stuck.

  “What if I told you Braedan is here, and it looks as though he’s going to leave because I might’ve forgotten to let Veronica tell him what was going on at the party?”