Last: A Copperslane Romance Novel

by Garnet Christie

  “Sorry.” He sweeps a stray hair away from my forehead. “Saber is pulling the order on this one. I guess we need to go back and get some paperwork. Monica’s husband still doesn’t want to sell the property. Saber thinks if we show him it used to be in the family that he’d be willing to part with it.”

  My brow arches. “You really think that’s going to work?”

  “Shit, it’s worth a try.” He adjusts to be flat on his back. “But I guarantee you that if we can’t get our hands on it, Saber’s father will. He’s persuasive.”

  “And Saber doesn’t care that you’re trying to screw his dad over?” Sheets smelling of our mingled scents of soap and strawberry tangle around me while I nestle closer to Brett.

  “Hardly.” He laughs, propping his hands behind his head. “Saber would let his dad rot if he could. The man didn’t spare him either. Whatever beatings I got, Saber did too.”

  “God, that’s just awful.” I shake my head, clutching part of the bedding in my fist. Each time I hear about it, more guilt rubs at me for the things I said outside the bar. Like salt in a wound, causing a sting I wish to erase. I hurt for him. My brows wrinkle till a crease forms in the middle. “Why was he like that? Didn’t people try and help you?”

  “He was a drunk behind closed doors. The kind that keeps their shit together in public, but is a monster in secret.”

  A bitter taste pops up in my mouth, souring my face along the way. “The worst kind of drunk. That’s what my dad was.”

  “Then I don’t need to say more about that. As for the beatings, no one really knew.” His fingers trace up and down my arm, but I feel like it’s a mindless action as he continues. “Saber and I were usually too nervous to talk about what happened. And his dad knew what was too far even when he was pumped full of drinks. He knew to avoid our face and hands. Even our legs during the summer.”

  I gasp, hating the way my insides tumble downward. All of that is flat-out sickening. “God, Brett—”

  “No one knew.” A darkness splays across his carved features, and his grip around me tightens. “We’d go to church, all dressed up and shit, proper and prim in our fancy-ass clothes. But from the collars down?” His throat bobs. “Covered, purple and bruised.” His jaw tightens. “It was a Godsend Connie enrolled us in that boarding school the summer after I almost lost my arm.”

  My heart aches at the thought of all that, of envisioning their broken little bodies, hurting and sore. I think of the instances that caused it, the beatings. Brett and Saber—children—probably scared, hiding and crying, probably begging for it all to stop. Shit. A hard lurch carries my stomach into my throat and I cover my hand with my mouth, bile threatening to creep up.

  “Bianca.” Brett’s soft voice catches my attention, and he gathers my hand in his, bringing it to his mouth for the gentlest of kisses. “Saber and I are alright. We no longer have to live like that.”

  “But still.” I stroke my fingers through his hair, relishing how the day-old gel cooperates to my touch. It fought me last night. “That must have been awful. Why would your parents leave you with someone like him?” Anger bubbles up, boiling in my sternum when I realize they had to give legal custody for someone to provide care to Brett. And they picked a person who abused him. Screw them.

  He shrugs, obviously not feeling the same anger I do. “Because they didn’t know him. My parents were amazing, and while they were friends with him, they only saw the good side . . . that’s what Mr. DuBois does. Lies to everyone except the ones that live with him and uses his money to silence the ones that know wiser.”

  I bring my ear to his chest and sigh. “Shit, Brett that’s just awful.”

  “Hey.” He props himself up on his elbows. “Don’t upset yourself on my account.”

  I blink, aware of the film of tears glazing over my eyes. Until now, I didn’t even know they were there. “I’m sorry. I just hate that you went through all of that.” My shoulders deflate. “It makes me think of Dad, and I know how evil drunks can be. I mean, Mom—” My voice fades away. She died because of him. I can’t say it. Talking about her will never be easy.

  “Precisely why I just told you all that.” He smiles some. “Is that why you don’t do serious relationships?”

  My head pulls back, brows folding together. “How did you know that?”

  His brows lift, and his words come out slow, gentle. “Lizzie told me. She mentioned after our time in the cabin that you gave up dating.”

  “Of course.” My eyes roll. Lizzie’s had me set up with Brett from the start. I huff out a blast of frustrated air. “I think it is.” The confession is a mumble. Damn. Working out the truth is hard. “Whatever my reasons are, I’m sure Dad didn’t help.”

  “I’m sure he didn’t.” A softness that I haven’t heard until this morning overtakes his tone.

  Shit. It’s so gentle, my frame melts into the sheets. I love it and loathe it all at once, and my pulse bangs at my throat while he slides over to me.

  He’s no longer lying down. Brett’s powerful body blankets over me, a smirk on his face. “Whatever your reasons are, maybe I can help you forget that you don’t do serious.”

  No. Ice plummets through my stomach. “Brett—”

  His mouth collides over mine. A pass of his tongue across my lips seems like a silent plea for me to open. At first my lips seal themselves tighter, then he moans while gripping both my tits in his strong hands. Massaging my mounds, calloused thumbs circle around my nipples till they pebble.

  I whimper, peeling my spine off the sheets, so that I erase all needless space between us. My mouth widens, and his tongue dives in. Peppermint floods my mouth, lungs, and head, intoxicating me, making me dizzy with a need to be consumed while his threatening words from moments ago wash away. My fingers yank at the roots of his hair. His arms wrap around my back, drawing me closer to him. A wicked ache vibrates in me and I writhe, mewling in gratitude as he senses my need and wedges his knee against my drenched opening.

  Shit. Ever since I experienced him last night, it’s like he understands my needs better than I do. My climax rests ready between my thighs, needing only a few attentive strokes from Brett. That’s how well he commands me. The release I seek dangles on a cliff’s edge—

  It shatters due to the shrill of his phone. The trill is ear piercing and I flinch and groan, plugging my ears, pissed that the excitement in my clit ebbs away at the sound.

  “Fuck.” Brett punches his pillow and glances at the phone. “It’s Saber.” He tries to reach for it, I claw at his arms.

  “Brett, no.”

  “It will only be a sec. He’s not big on chat.” He rolls off me, answering the call before I can make any objections. “Yeah? Make it fast.”

  A grumble slips out of me. Him abandoning my hot and twisted needs for a damn phone call is so wrong, and I scowl at him the whole time.

  It’s not until the conversation is winding down that I realize I need to make a text of my own. Cora. I rub my hand over my face. Crap. I never told her where I was going last night, and I need to fix that.

  I’m sitting up and peeling off the sheets when Brett ends his call and raises both brows.

  “I don’t recall giving you permission to leave my bed.” He reaches out. His hand wraps around my throat, his thumb dangerously stroking the front area of my neck.

  The ticking of my heart skyrockets with the desire for him to take me, but I can’t make it so easy. He’ll get cocky. Boring my eyes into his, I arch a brow. “And I don’t remember saying you could answer that phone call.” Wrapping my fingers around his, which still toy with my neck, I dare him to choke me.

  All I get is a dark chuckle.

  “You’re frustrating. You know that?” He smiles wide as he says it, encouraging me more.

  “Hmm.” I lick my lips, going wild with anticipation when his eyes dip to watch. “Maybe I like pushing your buttons.”

  “Well, you do a fucking good job at it.” He applies the smallest amount of pr
essure, just enough to test the integrity of my windpipe and pump up my need for more, teasing me to where I want to beg for it. My skin waves with goosebumps when he ducks his head for my ear. “Stay in bed and push them all. See what happens, little one.”

  The delightful threat sends my eyes to the back of my head, but after that happens, I remove his hand and slide away, the sheets whooshing underneath my skin. “After I text Cora and tell her where I am.”

  “You think she hasn’t figured it out?”

  “I’m sure she has.” I wrinkle my nose in response. “But if she hasn’t, she might be worried, and since I was with you last, she might think you kidnapped me.”

  He smooths over the back of his neck and smirks. “Technically, I have, and I’m not done.”

  “And I didn’t say I wanted you to be.” My fingers sink down, stroking once over his semi-hard cock. I bite my lip in delight when a growl slips out from the back of his throat. “However . . .” I take my hand away. “If you don’t want a SWAT team breaking down your door, you’ll let me go text her. She’s extreme like that.”

  “Let them come.” His voice dips lower, and he captures my chin between his thumb and index finger. “They’ll leave in a heartbeat after they see you twisted up like a fucking pretzel, screaming my name . . . because that’s how I’m going to have you next. On your side, spread for me. One leg around my torso, the other draped around my neck, my cock mercilessly slamming into you, and you loving every second of it.”

  “Someone’s confident.” I fake a disinterested, unimpressed voice despite that fact my body aches in total desperation.

  “Someone wants it.” He leans forward, brushing my mouth to his. “I see it in your eyes.”

  I stay silent and my eyes flutter closed. The only sound that manages to escape is a whimper when he nips my lower lip between his teeth, rolling it till the skin nearly splits. It’s a skill he’s damn good at, and it’s managed to steal my breath away each time he does it. This time is no exception. My eyes remained sealed closed well after he’s done.

  “Go text her.”

  His raspy voice shoots an arsenal of beautiful expectation up each vertebrae in my spine. It’s hot, consuming me from the inside out.

  “Tell her you’re with me, getting your brains fucked out, because you made me wait too long for you. Do that and hurry back. Understand?”

  My eyes fly open and I nod, sliding backward off the bed.

  I’m padding down the hall, quickly—not sure how long I can stand to be away. Even leaving to ensure Cora I’m safe seems like lost time, so I’m rushing.

  The phone is grazing my fingertips when it happens.

  A small appearance behind both eyes. Damn it. I attempt to shake it away, physically—jostling my head back and forth, fighting it anyway I can. It doesn’t leave, but at least it’s not knee-buckling when I lift my phone.

  “Shit.” Cora’s lit up my phone more than the tree they use at Rockefeller Center. I push one of the notifications and call her back. It rings once.

  She doesn’t even say hello, and that only happens when something’s up. I grind my teeth together in semi-enervation and suck in a deep breath. “Hey.” My voice shakes. “I’m at—”

  “I know where you are, Bee.”

  “Oh.” A half-confused smile affixes to my face. She must have really been in tune to what Brett and I were feeling last night.

  She sighs. “So does everyone else in this damn town.”

  “What?” I dig my fingers around the case of my phone. Not sure if I’m mortified or shocked that word of us circulated so fast. “But, but, how?”

  “You two had a visitor last night while you were, ahem, how did Monica put it?”

  “Monica?” My face goes clammy, all the blood in it pooling in my sick stomach. Of all the people in the world, she had to be the one to see us.

  “Ah, yes.” She ignores my question. “Defiling a child’s bedroom.”

  “Fuck.” I sink my ass on the couch and sigh, my shoulders deflating like an old balloon.

  “Yeah, I’d say that’s what you were doing alright. Good and hard from the sound of it, and in my nephew’s bedroom too.”

  Guilt knots in my stomach, I bow over from the tidal waving sensation. “Oh, Cora—”

  “Oh, Bee, come on. You know I’m gonna be the last one to judge you. It’s not like anyone cares that you’re together. You’re both single adults.”

  I hug an arm around my stomach. “But you don’t sound happy with me.”

  “About using sweet Wesley’s room, no. However, you fucked the hottest dude in this town. One that every sane woman’s been trying to get her claws in. So props to you for that.”

  That makes a giggle shake out of me. “Thanks. What was she doing there, anyway?”

  “Eh, I guess she missed the memo on the time again.” Her hard laugh grates into the phone. “You should have seen how pissed Monica was. Stupid slut. Serves her right.”

  But I can’t laugh at that. Shit. My hand squeezes around my throat in a panic. If she was upset, then there’s every reason that she could retaliate and talk about Brett. “Did she say anything to her husband?”

  “Husband? Why are you so weird? What kind of a question is that? I’m sure she told him about seeing you guys.”

  A queasy gulp washes down my throat. “What did he say?”

  “The shit if I know.” I can hear the confusion and curiosity in her voice. “He wasn’t with us last night. I think he left town the night before on a business trip.”

  “Oh.” That’s all I can manage to say as I think about the situation that could cause Brett some problems. I don’t know if Monica is vindictive, or if she’s still upset about Brett walking out on her when he found out she was married. And if she tries to compromise him in any way with retaliation? Well. That’s a whole slew of problems. I’m sure Brett doesn’t want his deal blown to hell over me.

  “Bee?”

  I leap at the voice of Cora, forgetting I was on the phone with her.

  “What’s going through that head of yours?”

  “Uhh . . .” My voice quivers. “Nothing.” I don’t feel comfortable telling Cora about Brett and Monica, that’s his business. Poking at a coaster on the coffee table, I use it to funnel out the anxiety clawing at my chest.

  “Bianca?” The warning tone says she doesn’t believe me.

  I shake my head, pinching my lips closed. “Really, it’s nothing.”

  “What’s nothing, little one?”

  The phone fumbles in my hands at the voice of Brett. He’s emerged, stark naked, full hard-on bobbing between his corded thighs.

  Leaning one shoulder into the wall, he points down to his cock and smirks. “You’re taking too long.”

  I can’t even be mad about him forcing me back to bed. I shift my weight around from hip bone to hip bone, fully aware of my throbbing middle. It hurts not having him in me. Securing the phone to my ear, I keep my eyes locked on Brett. “I have to go, Cora. I’ll call you later.”

  She laughs. Probably realizing why I’m ending our conversation. “Have fun.”

  The call ends, and I toss my phone onto the couch, letting it land with a soft plop.

  He curls his finger, motioning me close to him. “Shame on you for taking so long.”

  “Sorry.” I pull to my feet and slowly saunter toward him, letting my hips sway and my breasts rock and bounce with each step. I don’t miss the way his jaw tightens to the rhythm of my body—I also can’t shake away the ache behind my eyes, but oh well. I guess it’s here to stay. “Cora had some news.”

  “About what?”

  My pulse flatlines. I don’t want to tell him. I don’t want to ruin this. There’s no telling how long my fling with Brett will last and I’ll be damned if we’re over the day after. A discussion about Monica will be a real mood killer. I plaster on a half-smile and step closer. “It was about nothing.”

  “I doubt that—” His objections die and he hisses through
his teeth while I scrape my nails down his abs.

  Excitement catches in my blood and I take it a step further. I dig into his shoulders, knocking and crushing my body hard against his, shifting his weight. Broad shoulders align with the wall as I shove him against it, grinding my breast against his torso, purring when he grabs hold of his dick and paints the tip of it across my hips. I nip at his chest and his head falls back.

  “Fuck, do that again, Bianca.” I obey, happy this was all it took to make him forget about pressing the issue of Monica. A few passes later, and he has me hoisted over his shoulder, carrying me back to bed. Keeping his promises to me.

  The pretzel, the screaming, the way he makes me say his name . . . he makes it all happen, and pretty soon I don’t care about my headache at all. I don’t care about Monica. The one thing on my mind is chasing the high that can only come from Brett.

  I chase it all day long. I chase it till he leaves town a few days later.

  Monica can wait.

  Chapter 19

  “What do you mean, you’re moving?” Cora’s voice overtakes and shatters the usually tranquil serenity of Tanka’s Coffee and Tea. Her eyes widen until the natural brown underneath her purple lenses seeps through.

  The same shock Cora’s showing shoots hard down my body, snapping my frame upright. The only reason why I didn’t have an outburst is because I have a mouthful of hot coffee.

  I force the hot liquid down so I don’t spew it anywhere and stare open-mouthed at Lizzie—who’s just informed us she’s moving.

  Poof.

  Gone.

  No longer a part of this town in T-minus four weeks.

  After staying tucked away, and hardly contacting us, the first words out of her mouth are to inform us that she’s moving away from the only place she’s ever known.

  “And what about your Aunt?” Cora asks, her brows knitted tight together.

  “She’ll be fine.” Lizzie’s voice is small, and it doesn’t sound like a response she’d make. Her Aunt is someone she worries about all the time.

  I’m ignoring the scalding of my esophagus from my fast gulp as I observe her. She’s withdrawn, shrinking into the seat, and she looks small and out of sorts. Too thin and sleep deprived with darkness hugging under her eyes. It has me worried.