by Chelle Bliss
“Go on three,” the kid said, tapping my shoulder. He nodded at my thumbs-up and then started the countdown.
“One…”
“Kit, you gotta give me a little room to breathe here.” But Kit didn’t budge.
In fact, when the kid shouted, “Two,” her grip got tighter and her nails sank into my chest.
“Come on, don’t be a chicken…”
“Three!”
There was a small tug, and then we pushed off the landing. Kit pressed tighter against me, ankles locked, pussy warm against my back.
“Fuck,” I muttered and, of course, she managed to hear that.
“What? What’s wrong? What is it?” Her voice was loud, panicked, and she was breathing like she’d just run a marathon. “Kane, what’s wrong?”
I couldn’t admit a damn thing to her. What the hell was I supposed to say? Oh, nothing, Kit Kat. I just like the way you feel wrapped around me, that hot little pussy of yours warming my skin? She’d claw my eyes out.
“Nothing,” I finally said. “Except you’re missing all this.” I slipped my hand over hers, smoothing my thumb against her skin, hoping it would calm her a little because she was missing something remarkable. The trees sped by, shooting out a rainbow of greens and browns, like some sort of Technicolor cascade right out of a painting. The only thing that made that mad riot of colors look pale and simple was the arch of Mount Rainier straight ahead of us. We careened toward it; those peaks and streaks of white from the snowcaps were brilliant against the midday sun. All the beauty mingled with the sweet sensation of Kit wrapped around me, and I felt a little punch-drunk.
“Fuck’s sake, Kit, open your damn eyes and trust that I won’t let anything happen to you!”
My shouting got her attention, and I felt the slide of her cheek, then her chin against my back. The warmth from her open mouth moved up my back to my shoulder, and the vise grip on my chest went a little slack.
“Oh,” she said, though I could barely make out the word. I glanced over my shoulder, squinting as I watched her profile. She looked around us, to the landscape and forest below, then to the mountain as she turned her head. She was beautiful. So fucking beautiful, and in that instant, I realized there was no way in hell I could push down what I felt for her. There’d be no gullet deep enough, no part of my brain dark enough to keep the light and color of Kit dim.
“Oh God,” she said, sounding amazed. “Kane…”
The ride took minutes, maybe, but I prayed it would last forever. Being there with Kit, having her body pressed against mine, watching that awed expression over her face, how the fear left in segments, from fright to worry to dread that shifted and blinked out of her eyes. Then came the calm, the swell of wonder and a bunch of other things I wasn’t poetic enough to describe. I only knew that she’d never looked more beautiful to me. Not with a shit-ton of makeup on her face or her sporting some designer gown the studio made her squeeze into that one time she’d agreed to make an appearance at the Emmys.
Right then, with Kit watching the majesty around us, I knew I loved her. And I knew, as we slowed to a stop, as she jumped and squealed when the workers released her from the harness, when she went straight at me when I got the harness off, I just knew there wasn’t anyone else I wanted but Kit Carlyle.
“Kane, thank you,” she said, hugging me tightly, tugging my face down between her fingers before she kissed my cheek. “Thank you so much.”
Yep. I was well and truly fucked.
* * *
Lucky’s was packed by the time we left the mountain. Kit hadn’t taken a breath the entire time we drove back in my truck, jabbering away about the adrenaline rush and the mountain and how she thought the world “went by in a fucking whirl,” as she put it.
We’d spent an hour at the bar, drinking our way through three beers each, and now Kit was on to some fruity pink drink she swore was the best thing she’d put in her mouth. It took fucking effort not to make a comment on that one.
“To the bucket list,” she said, offering that pink drink toward my half-empty Guinness for yet another toast. This made the fourth one in the past two hours. “And to Jess.” Kit went a little quiet then, and those hummingbird eyelashes of hers went to work. “My cousin. For pushing me to do this shit.” She sipped, then seemed to think of something and pulled the glass away from her mouth. “And to you, Kane. For making me do it!”
I laughed, eyes wide as she downed the drink in one swallow. “Shit, you’re drunk,” I said, laughing.
Kit shrugged, dancing in her spot on her stool. “Oh, I love this song.” She lifted her arms, and the hem of her shirt tugged up. I had to force my gaze around the bar, then back into my glass. “Kane, dance with me. Come on.” She had one foot on the floor and the other still resting on the stool. “I love Prince. This is so much better than the Sinead O’Connor version. Come on.”
I was about to say no. I didn’t fucking dance, no matter who asked, but Kit stumbled, and I caught her. That low plead in her voice made me swallow back the moan that threatened to leave my mouth. And then, the asshole on the stool next to us stood, stepping to Kit’s side.
“Come on, darlin’. I’ll dance with you.” I knew this guy. At least, I’d seen him around. The jackass had gotten drunk three weeks ago, and Crystal had thrown him out on his ass. I’d also seen him working around the bar this entire night, getting turned down by nearly every woman in the place before he settled on the stool near our side of the bar.
“The lady asked me,” I told him, standing up. He didn’t put up much of a fight, stepping back to look up at me before he shrugged and walked away. I took Kit’s hand, ignoring how good it felt in mine, before I slammed down the rest of my beer and led her to the dance floor.
“Mmm,” Kit said, the vibration of her voice moving against my chest as she rested against me. She was a good foot shorter than me and I had to lean down, but the awkward position didn’t bother me.
“It’s a good song,” I told her, not caring if anyone except Kit could see how close I held her or how I tried to subtly inhale the scent of her hair as we danced.
“It’s the best.” She straightened, stretching her arms over my shoulders, eyelids heavy, smile lazy and a little ridiculous. “Prince…he was the best.”
“Agreed,” I said, watching her lashes as she blinked, amazed how they were so long that they fell to the curve of her cheeks. Her face was smooth, lineless, but there was the smallest scar along her bottom lip. I’d never been this close to her, had never once noticed that scar, but didn’t want to mention it. Not when she curled closer to me, my name slurring a little when she spoke it.
“Kane.” She said my name like it was something that felt good on her tongue, each syllable a tease I couldn’t help loving. “Thank you, Kane.” Then Kit blinked, her movements slowing, and I followed her, barely moving my feet as the song went on. I was too caught up in the way she let her tongue slide against her bottom lip, how she opened her eyes, and there was no drunken tease in the smile that shook as she watched me. “Thank you,” she purred, and I stopped moving altogether, struck dumb by how slowly Kit’s thumb moved against my bottom lip, how she pressed close, eyelids shutting as she whispered “Thank you” again.
And then, with the entire bar laughing and drinking around us, with my heart pounding like a drumline on play-off night, my friend Kit stretched up to her toes and pulled my face down, my mouth to hers, as she stole my breath with one long, slow, perfectly wet kiss.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Chelle Bliss is the USA Today bestselling author of the Men of Inked and ALFA P.I. series. She hails from the Midwest but currently lives near the beach even though she hates sand. She's a full-time writer, time-waster extraordinaire, social media addict, coffee fiend, and ex-high school history teacher. She loves spending time with her two cats, alpha boyfriend, and chatting with readers. To learn more about Chelle, please visit her website.
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MEN OF INKED SERIES
Throttle Me - Book 1
Hook Me - Book 2
Resist Me - Book 3
Uncover Me - Book 4
Without Me - Book 5
Honor Me - Book 6
Worship Me - Book 7
* * *
ALFA INVESTIGATIONS SERIES
Sinful Intent - Book 1
Unlawful Desire - Book 2
Wicked Impulse - Book 3
ALFA Investigations Novellas
Rebound (Flash aka Sam)
Top Bottom Switch (Ret)
* * *
TAKEOVER DUET
Acquisition - Book 1
Merger - Book 2
* * *
FILTHY SERIES
Dirty Work
Dirty Secret
Dirty Defiance
* * *
SINGLE READS
Mend
Enshrine
Misadventures of a City Girl
Misadventures with a Speed Demon
* * *
LOVE AT LAST SERIES
Untangle Me - Book 1
Kayden the Past - Book 2
Nailed Down Series
Nailed Down - Book 1 (Already released)
Tied Down - Book 2
* * *
Maneuver
* * *
Southside Gallo Series
Flow - Book 1
Hook - Book 2
Hustle - Book 3
To learn more about Chelle’s books visit chellebliss.com
I
Deleted Guilty Sin Chapters
Dear Reader,
So… I had planned to create a different story from what you just finished reading. I was chapters in, deep into a horrible event that happened to Alese, when a beta reader gave me hell. She said I couldn’t do what I’d just done. That readers, including her, would hate me for it. She made me cut over 4,000 words and change the entire direction of the book. You can thank her for Alese still being alive.
But then I thought…what the hell am I going to do with all these words? Then I figured I’d throw them in as extra because maybe you wanted to crawl inside my brain and see what I had planned for you. You can thank my beta, Renita, for the following chapters not being part of the book anymore.
Enjoy!
Chelle Bliss
Deleted Chapter – Nya
Three months later
The waves rolled over my feet as I stared out at the horizon, watching the sunset like I did almost every night. Ret refused to join me, even when I begged him like I did every night. He grumbled under his breath before he stalked off toward his bedroom and slammed the door.
Losing Alese devastated us both. I might have only loved her for a short time, but the loss was not easier to bear. She brought me back to life at a time when I wasn’t sure if I’d ever find joy again. I was just as lost as Ret. His anguish was greater, their love longer and deeper than anything I’d ever felt before.
I didn’t know how to console him or what to say to help him through his grief because I hadn’t sorted out my own. We had both been in a haze since that night at the hospital. I barely remembered her funeral as it had passed by in a blur.
I’d thought about leaving a few times, figuring Ret wanted to be alone with his grief. He’d asked me to stay, said he needed me here to help him. I hadn’t done a damn thing, though. I certainly hadn’t helped him in any way.
He was still consumed by sadness and a shell of his former self. Sometimes his anger would get the better of him. He never touched me, but he wasn’t the patient man I’d met months ago, and I didn’t know how to bring him back or if it was even possible.
“Help me,” I said into the wind, talking to Alese like I did every evening as I watched the sunset. “He can’t go on like this. I can’t go on like this.” But just like every night before, there was no reply.
As the sun kissed the horizon, blazing bright and illuminating the sky in a kaleidoscope of colors, I brushed the sand off my legs and headed back toward the house for another quiet night.
God, I missed Alese’s laughter. She was like a bright light, filling the house with her giggles and bad food. I’d picked up that torch, burning everything I could get my hands on just to make something seem normal again.
As my feet touched the patio, I turned and let my gaze linger on the endless sea. My stomach growled and I sighed, wishing I didn’t have to forage in the fridge for something to cook, only to watch Ret push it around his plate before he stalked off again.
Maybe tonight could be different. I had to try to get him out of his head tonight. The grief was eating him alive. He went to work each day, never with a smile and barely saying goodbye. The guys had stopped coming around, and even his father had started to keep his distance. Although he’d tried for months to help his son heal, even he failed to pull Ret out of his funk.
As I walked through the open sliders that lined the back of the house, I glanced down, spotting Alese’s sandals that hadn’t moved. Ret hadn’t been able to pack away her things and had left everything just where it had been the last time she was home. I couldn’t blame him. Moving her possessions, her clothes, even something as simple as her shoes made everything feel so final, and I didn’t think either of us was ready for that yet.
I loaded the countertop with every vegetable I could find in the refrigerator and started chopping away like a madwoman. With each chop of the knife, my anger grew, replacing the sadness I hadn’t been able to shake.
When the knife slipped and gouged the tip of my finger, I pulled my hand against my body, yelling, “Motherfucker.” Blood spilled down my arm, soaking through my T-shirt as I danced around the kitchen and shrieked in pain.
Ret came storming down the hallway, and I turned my back to him, hiding my finger. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just stubbed my toe.” A drop of blood fell and landed on the top of my foot. I squeezed my eyes shut and groaned softly.
Damn it.
I’d thought my lie was believable until the goddamn blood. Ret probably would’ve stalked back toward his bedroom if the cut didn’t decide to out me.
Ret placed his hands on my shoulders, turning me to face him even though all I wanted to do was hide. “Jesus. Let me see that.” He started to reach for my hand, but I tightened my fist against my shirt. “Come on, Nya. You might need stitches.”
“I’m fine, Ret.” I stared him down, still clutching my hand to my chest. “Go back to whatever you were doing.”
He didn’t move, though. He stood in front of me with a stern look firmly planted on his face, his eyes narrowing. “If it’s nothing, why do you look like you’re about to cry?”
My eyes were filling no matter how much I tried to fight it. “I’m embarrassed, okay?”
I’d never been a good liar. Even in that moment, anyone could see that I was full of shit, but that didn’t stop me from sticking to my story.
Ret gripped my waist with his hands before he lifted me in the air. He moved so quickly, I didn’t have a chance to react before my ass was on the ice-cold granite countertop.
“What are you doing?” I glared at him as he kept his hands on my sides like I was about to bolt, which I would’ve if he weren’t blocking my way.
He let out a loud, exasperated huff and motioned for me to give him my hand, but I didn’t. “I’m not leaving this room until your finger is patched up.”
I scrunched my face. Sometimes, like in that moment, the man could be so bullheaded and bossy that I wanted to scream, but then I r
emembered… I remembered he saved me, and he lost the only woman he’d ever loved. “Don’t hurt me, okay?” I whispered, staring into his stormy blue eyes.
He placed his hands on his hips and leveled me with his eyes. “Have I ever hurt you?”
Shit. “No.”
Motioning again, he waited with his eyes unmoving as I sat there, kicking my feet against the cabinets and stared back at him. I thrust my hand between us, my fingers still curled into a tight fist with blood trickling between the cracks.
“Stay there,” he commanded like my ass had anywhere to hide. He disappeared into the guest bathroom, making a whole lot of noise as he closed a cabinet.
I rolled my eyes as my feet started to move faster because I knew whatever he was about to do would involve pain. The cut already hurt like a bitch, and the last thing in the world I wanted was for him, or anyone for that matter, to touch it.
He placed the first aid kit he’d retrieved from the bathroom on the counter next to me, glancing up as I tried to pretend I wasn’t terrified. I closed my eyes because I didn’t want to see what he was going to do.
His touch was lighter than I expected as he uncurled my fingers. I held my breath, waiting for the pain to become unbearable as he started to clean the cut.
“Breathe, Nya. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
Ret was a man of his word. That much, I knew about him. Since the day he’d rescued me, he’d never lied. But he wasn’t a doctor, and my finger wasn’t numb.