Perfect Wreckage (The Wrecked Series Book 2)

by Catherine Cowles

  I slowly slid down onto my front step. If I didn’t sit, I’d fall. I met the stone with a jolt that rattled my spine. All I could remember were the papers I’d been sent before, the ones demanding a paternity test, the one that came next demanding that I keep my mouth shut. A dark part of my mind wondered if the stress of it all, of trying to keep it together amidst my heart breaking and the assault of the demands from the Abbots, had been a part of me losing my baby.

  My body shook as I remembered the pain. I saw the bloody sheets in my mind, felt the terror as if it were all happening again. I couldn’t see the gravel drive, the grass that lay beyond that. I couldn’t feel the breeze or smell the sea air. I was back in that dorm room, in the bed where my baby ceased to be.

  “Brown Eyes.”

  The voice was familiar but so far away, as if I were under water, and he was on the surface, calling out, trying to find me.

  “Kenna, you’re scaring the shit out of me right now. Answer me.”

  I blinked rapidly, my vision slowly coming into focus, the dorm room slipping away as Crosby appeared in front of me.

  “There she is.” His forehead pressed against mine, and I realized he was on his knees in his suit.

  “You’re going to ruin your slacks.” There was a rasp to my voice as if I hadn’t used it in days.

  “Don’t give a fuck about my suit.” He pulled back, cupping my face, studying me, assessing me for damage. There would be too much for him to catalogue if he knew the truth. “Are you okay?”

  “Not really.” I handed him the papers. It took a second for my arm to obey the command of my brain. Sluggish, almost as if I were drugged. Crosby let out a colorful string of curses. “I don’t think Harriet would care for that language.” I almost choked on her name. Harriet. I couldn’t let her down. Couldn’t let her greedy family steal The Gables and turn it into something she’d never want, either by filling it with their hate, or selling it to the highest bidder.

  Crosby slipped a hand under my fall of hair, squeezing my neck. “They aren’t going to win.”

  My breath hitched in my chest as I shoved the sob down. Down to the place where I pushed every other emotion that had the potential to make me break. “You don’t know that. They won’t give up. Not because they especially want The Gables or because they need the money, but because they don’t want me to have it. I could lose my home, Crosby. The only place I’ve ever truly felt safe.”

  The words had bubbled out before I could stop them. But the truth in them was undeniable. I’d given everything I had to create a sense of security for myself. Working harder than I’d thought possible to get back on track in college, to graduate on time with the rest of my classmates. I’d gotten a good job. One that was steady and would always give me enough money to live on. I didn’t take risks—or I hadn’t until this thing with Crosby. I’d done everything I could to give myself the life I didn’t have growing up. But it was Harriet and this place that had given me the most. And now, all that could be taken away.

  Crosby’s thumbs stroked over my cheeks as he kept hold of my face. The pads of those thumbs were rough with calluses, likely from all of his many adrenaline-fueled hobbies. But the feel of them was hypnotic, calming in a way that shouldn’t be possible, not from this man. “You might think I’m a slacker, but I’m a damn good lawyer. I’m not going to let Clark and his family take your home.”

  Crosby’s words startled a laugh out of me. “I know you’re a good lawyer. Probably the best in the islands.” I’d heard people talking about Crosby before, how he’d won them what they thought was a hopeless case. I’d also heard that he helped in cases where the client couldn’t pay his normal rates. God, I’d held so tightly to my view of this man, even when the evidence laid before me clearly pointed to a different picture, a more complex one. “I trust you.”

  The words surprised even me. But as I searched inside myself, I found that they were true. I may not have completely let down my guard, but I trusted Crosby to give his all to save my home, my safe place. “I do.”

  Crosby rose, grabbing my hands and lifting me with him. “Let’s get inside. I’ll make you some tea.”

  “You hate tea.”

  “I didn’t say I was going to drink the stuff.” He moved around my space as if he belonged there, opening cabinets, pulling out a mug and my kettle, going in search of tea bags.

  I slipped onto one of the three stools at the counter and watched the man move. He was tending. And something about that knowledge caused warmth to spread through my chest. “You know your way around a kettle.”

  His lips tipped. “One of my nannies, the one who was there longest, she loved tea. I’d always watch her make it.”

  “Were your parents not around much?”

  Crosby chuckled but it had a hint of bitterness to it. “Rarely. I mostly spent time with them when they needed a child as an accessory.”

  The knowledge burned something inside me. Crosby and I had more in common than I’d thought. It didn’t matter if a child had every toy in the world or just three. It didn’t change the pain of being ignored. “I’m sorry, Crosby.”

  He shrugged, moving the kettle off the stove just as it began to whistle. “I was safe, warm, cared for. There are so many children out there who would kill for that.”

  He was right, of course, and it was good…healthy to have that perspective. But it didn’t change the fact that the absence of parents hurt, no matter the circumstances. “That’s why you volunteer with the Alliance. It puts things in perspective for you.”

  Crosby poured the water into the cup with ease, dunking the tea bag three times before it fully submerged in the water. “It’s a good reminder, sure. But I also wanted to use my skills for good for once.”

  I took the mug from Crosby, placing it down on the counter. “What do you mean?”

  He continued to move about my kitchen with some uncanny knowledge of where everything was placed, grabbing a sugar bowl, a small spoon, then moving to the refrigerator for the milk. “For so long after law school, after meeting Alicia, I had this insatiable hunger for more. More money. More power. Nothing was ever enough. I blamed Alicia, and sure her need to be at the top of the food chain—for me to be at the top—didn’t help, but it triggered something in me. Nothing was ever enough. And the cases I worked…I was rarely making a positive difference in the world.”

  Crosby set the sugar and milk in front of me. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I’m some bleeding heart now. I take all kinds of cases. But I like that some of them change people’s lives for the better.”

  I spooned some sugar into my tea. “I know you’re making Zoe’s life better.” Crosby flinched, and I straightened on my stool, my fingers tightening on the handle of the mug. “What’s wrong? Is she okay?”

  Crosby’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “She’s going to be fine, but she was removed from her foster home.”

  “What? Why?”

  He rounded the counter and pulled out the stool next to mine, sinking down onto it. “I didn’t have the best feeling about her foster parents. The way she talked about them just didn’t sit right. So, this afternoon, I made a surprise visit.” Crosby’s knuckles bleached white as he settled his hands on the countertop. “They had her in a closet. They made her stay there after school until bedtime so she was out of the way.”

  The rage that lit in me blazed bright and fierce. I stood, nearly knocking my stool over before Crosby caught it. “Where is she? What is wrong with social services that they approved people who have the potential of doing something like that?”

  I was moving before Crosby could answer, heading for my bedroom. Pulling open a drawer in my dresser, I grabbed a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. I didn’t even think about the fact that the door was wide open, I simply shucked my spandex shorts, leaving me in nothing but my thong and workout tank.

  “Whoa. Not that I don’t love the show, but what are you doing?”

  I whirled to face Crosby
, who leaned against the door, his gaze trained on where my ass had been a second before. “You’re going to take me to wherever Zoe is right now. I need to see her. I want to make sure she’s all right.”

  Crosby crossed to me in three long strides, his hand slipping under my hair, tugging at it so that I was forced to meet his gaze. “That fierce exterior, it’s guarding the most tender heart, isn’t it?”

  Air constricted in my lungs. “I care about her.”

  “I know you do. Love that Zoe has that in you. But we can’t go see her right now.”

  I stepped out of his hold. “Why the hell not?”

  “Her social worker and I just got her settled before I came here. This place…I got nothing but good vibes. The parents are caring, attentive, but they don’t push. They’re doing everything they can to make Zoe feel safe. You showing up, ready to set fire to the world, is only going to freak Zoe out.”

  I took a deep, steadying breath. Crosby had a point. But desperation clawed at my insides, a need to see Zoe, to make sure she was okay. “Do you think I could see her tomorrow?”

  Crosby’s expression softened, and he pulled his phone from his pocket, typing out a text. Within a few seconds, there was a ding that said there had been a return reply. “The Wilsons would love for us to join them for breakfast tomorrow morning. We can see Zoe before she heads to school.”

  My shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Okay.”

  Crosby stepped closer, and I let my head fall to his chest. “She’s going to be okay. We’ll make sure of it.” I nodded against his sternum. Crosby trailed a hand up and down my spine. “You okay?”

  “Yes.” The vital warmth that radiated off Crosby seeped into me now, heating the places I’d never thought could feel warm again. It should’ve terrified me, but I only wanted more. I pressed myself closer to him, my arms going around his waist.

  Crosby’s hands dipped lower, ghosting over the curve of my ass, sending the most delicious sparks of sensation across my skin. “Do you need me?”

  “Yes.” My answer came out breathy, but I didn’t care one bit. I was beyond the point of pride. I needed to feel alive again, to forget all of the bad things that were swirling around me, and lose myself in sensation, in the buzz of energy that only Crosby could provide.

  Before I knew what was happening, Crosby sank to his knees. My head snapped down, the sight in front of me so enticing that my muscles clenched. The top of Crosby’s head, his dark hair gleaming, his eyes focused solely on the apex of my thighs. His finger slipped beneath the lace at my hips. “I’m partial to you in lace. I might just have to keep these as a reminder of this picture. So damn pretty.” He rubbed the tip of his nose over the lace covering my center. I couldn’t hold in my gasp.

  “And you smell so damn good.” Crosby tugged at my thong, moving so slowly I burned with each drag of his fingers down my thighs. As the lace fell to the floor, Crosby lifted one of my legs and then the other. He took the panties and shoved them into his back pocket. I opened my mouth to protest, but he gripped my thighs. “I need to remember this moment.”

  I swallowed but nodded my assent. Crosby kept a firm grip on my quads as if holding me in place. But for a moment, he only stared, taking in every detail of that innermost part of me, seemingly burning it into his memory.

  One hand moved, skimming up the inside of my thigh, sending the most pleasant shiver up my spine. His fingers parted me, one dipping inside, just slightly, taking the wetness gathering there and spreading it. He explored and teased, leaving no part left unattended except that most potent bundle of nerves. “Love the way you feel. The softest silk.”

  I let out what sounded almost like a mewl.

  Crosby chuckled. “You need more?”

  “Please.” I would’ve begged at that moment.

  Crosby’s hands moved, gripping the backs of my thighs and pulling me to him. My hands flashed out, gripping his shoulders as his tongue met my flesh. This was no teasing exploration. This was a hungry attack. His tongue went straight for my clit, the one place so desperate for touch that I worried one stroke would send me over the edge.

  One hand left my thigh. Suddenly, two fingers filled me just as the tip of his tongue flicked that bundle of nerves. My legs shook, and I had to focus on keeping myself upright. My fingers dug into Crosby’s shoulders, a silent plea for more.

  Crosby began stroking in a motion that had him hitting that hidden spot inside that made me tremble more violently. My breathing picked up its pace, my heart hammering against my ribs as he pushed in deeper.

  I gasped as Crosby’s lips surrounded my clit, sucking hard as his fingers stroked faster, curling just right. It was all I could handle. The world seemed to fall away. Blood roared in my ears. But I could do nothing but feel. Everything went silent. Still. It was my own Universe of sensation.

  And I never wanted it to end.

  22

  Crosby

  Watching Kenna straighten her hair was hypnotic. The smooth, downward strokes, the flick of her delicate wrist. I still hated it. It was as if she were hiding some part of herself away. And what she hid was the part of her that called to me on some primal level.

  “Why do you do that with your hair?”

  Kenna’s lips thinned. She had this dainty little vanity thing in her bedroom, and I had the perfect view of her reflection from my spot on her bed. She’d let me stay the night this time. Well, not so much let since we’d nearly collapsed after last night’s festivities, and she’d passed out before she could utter the words “get out.” But I was still taking it as a win.

  She moved the hair tool over another section of her mahogany locks. “I told you, I like it straight. It’s easier to deal with that way.”

  More like it was easier to control. To fit into that neat little box she was determined to mold herself into. But Kenna couldn’t be contained by any rigid rules or boundaries. She just hadn’t seen what a gift that was yet. That her strength, her fire, her empathy, they weren’t things to hide away. They were the most beautiful things about her. “One day, I’m going to get you to rock the curls.”

  “Don’t hold your breath.” She set the tool down, clicking it off and then unplugging it. Moving on to makeup.

  “When’s the last time you wore it wild?”

  A shadow passed over her eyes, a signal that she was shutting down. “I don’t know. Probably when I was sick or something.”

  There was a tone to Kenna’s voice when she lied, a slightly higher pitch that gave her away. Why she’d lie about that, I had no idea. I tensed. “Did Grant like it curly or something?”

  Kenna’s hand, holding a makeup brush, froze halfway to her face. “No. He liked it straight. Why does it matter what he liked or not?”

  “It doesn’t. I just—trying to figure out that shadow that’s in your eyes sometimes.”

  Her movements were stiff as she continued applying eye shadow. “Just woolgathering. You know better than most that not all my memories are the best.”

  But I wanted to know even more. That was a lie. I wanted to know everything. Yet it felt as if I were walking through a minefield. One wrong step and I’d blow us both sky-high. We’d never recover.

  I pushed up in bed, swinging my legs over the side. “I’d like to hear more about that.”

  A battle waged beneath the surface of her skin as if there were two halves of her—one who wanted nothing more than to unburden herself, and the other holding tight to every secret she’d ever locked away. “Okay.”

  It wasn’t the thing she guarded so fiercely, but it wasn’t a denial either. “That request has no expiration date.”

  “Thank you.”

  I could’ve given her an out. Told her that there was no pressure. But that would’ve been a lie. I wanted her secrets because it felt wrong to have pieces of her hidden from me, especially if it caused her pain. I knew every inch of her body, but that wasn’t enough. I wanted every inch of her soul, too. The thought had me rearing back. What the hell w
as going on with me? Kenna wanted the white picket fence and a stable, predictable man in her life. I was not that. But maybe underneath it all, Kenna didn’t need that. I’d just have to find a way to get her to accept it. That might be as difficult as getting her to open that vault she’d locked up so tightly.

  “Kenna!”

  Zoe flew at Kenna with a speed I worried would knock her over, but I should’ve known not to underestimate my girl’s strength. Kenna swung the little girl up in her arms with an ease that was beautiful to watch. “Missed you, sweet girl.”

  Zoe ducked her head. “Missed you, too. I’m glad Crosby brought you.”

  Kenna laughed, setting Zoe down. “Brought me? I hounded him to bring me over last night, but he made me wait till this morning.”

  “You did?”

  “Ask him. I was super annoying.”

  Zoe grinned at me. “Was she annoying?”

  “The absolute worst.”

  Zoe giggled, and Kenna gave one of her braids a tug. “How are you holding up?”

  Zoe rolled her lips together before answering. “I like it a lot better here.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Mr. and Mrs. Wilson are a lot nicer, and I have a whole room to myself. I don’t have to share with anyone. And Daniel isn’t mean, he even let me play Xbox with him.”

  “Daniel is Mr. and Mrs. Wilson’s son,” I explained to Kenna.

  “I’m so happy to hear that.” Kenna wrapped Zoe in another quick hug.

  “Sorry about that,” Ingrid Wilson bustled back into the living room. “Five or fourteen, there’s always something that boy has misplaced. This time, it was his math homework. Think the teacher will believe that Loki ate it?”

  A huge smile spread across Zoe’s face. “Loki is Daniel’s ferret. We got to play with him last night, and he’s really cool.” She looked up at Ingrid. “But I don’t think he’d eat a bunch of paper.”

  Ingrid chuckled. “I thought it might be worth a try.” She turned her attention back to Kenna and me. “Please, come on into the kitchen. I’m not the best cook, my husband is more the chef around these parts, but I have mastered the art of toaster waffles and cutting up fruit.”