Authors: K. Ryan
That doesn't make the tears burn any less. Or the ache in my chest any less twisted.
So I sob into my hands until there's nothing left on my face but red splotches and trails of salt.
At some point, Jack has to know what was really going on in his bathroom. At some point, he might decide to check on me, so I splash some water on my face and call it good. I don't really have any other options, especially since the only makeup I have in my purse is lip gloss.
There's no way I can hide what I've been doing when I sink back down onto my spot on the couch. It doesn't help, of course, that Jack's eyes have been on me as soon as I opened the door. I dare a glance his way and paint a smile in a vain attempt at putting on a brave face. Naturally, he sees right through it.
But he does exactly what I need him to do. He wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me to his chest.
"It's gonna be okay," he murmurs in my hair as his hands find my head to draw me in closer.
The second my face touches the soft cotton covering his chest, there's no escaping the tears again in the protection of his arms.
I cry because my parents were doomed from the start. I cry because my mom fell in love with a man who changed his mind. I cry because I've had to live my whole life not knowing. I cry because I've wasted so many years and so much of my health on self-medication. I cry because other than Bennett, my sister, and Sean, I have nobody else I can call family. I cry because I want to feel Jack's arms around me all the time. I cry because I know Jack shouldn't be touching me right now, shouldn't even be sitting on the couch with me like this. I cry because I can't tell my sister what I know and how I really feel.
I cry because I put my brother in prison.
And I cry because my other brother hates me for it.
I DON'T KNOW how much time has passed when my eyes flutter open again. I just know my cheek is planted firmly on hard planes of muscle and soft, cozy cotton. Hands are in my hair, soothing me, calming me. Strong arms enfold me, protecting me, shielding me.
When I lift my head off his chest, I find Jack observing me quietly with soft eyes and his lips quirk up a little when our eyes meet.
"Hey."
"Hi," I smile. "Sorry I fell asleep. I didn't mean to hold you hostage here."
"It wasn't a problem," he murmurs roughly.
Our faces are too close right now and his words warm my senses, rendering any logic pointless. I should pull away. I should put as much distance between us as possible, even if the reasons why are getting murkier and murkier the more time I spend with him. I shouldn't want this, but I do anyway.
Jack doesn't move. His arms tighten around me to hold me in place and I tilt my chin up just enough before I can stop myself. Our lips brush, tasting, tempting. I give in first and let my lips part for him to deepen the kiss, to pull him in when I know I should be pushing him away. He follows my lead and takes it one step further by tangling a hand in my hair. The other hand drifts down my back before it settles right on the edge of my hip, close but not quite far enough.
Everything else falls to the side, slipping and sliding along the edges of the couch before they land forgotten on the floor. Right now, I just need his hands. His strength. His presence. His kiss. It feels so good. I knew it would—I just never let myself think about it for too long because I knew this would happen if I did.
"Tell me to stop," he murmurs against my lips.
It's really too bad that his actions completely contradict his words because his hands are painting a different picture. Both of them latch onto my hips, squeezing just enough to pull them flush against him.
I don't want him to stop.
That seems to be answer enough because he shifts our weight until he flips around and slips right in between my legs like that was always where he was meant to be. I can't even process all my thoughts at once. Hell, I can barely keep my head above water. The sensation of wrapping my legs around his waist is just too heady and too sweet to let go.
When I whimper against his lips, I give him permission to let his hands slide up the side of my shirt and burn a trail through my skin. My fingers move on instinct, trailing down the hard muscles in his back before I finally let myself explore what I never thought I'd get to have.
Even though it's happened so quickly, we're taking our time now. Kissing and touching, experimenting with how far we can let ourselves go, how much we can let ourselves take. I don't know where my boundaries are. I just know I'll let him push me as far as I can go.
My fingers slip all the way up his back and then I tug his shirt up and over his head. He doesn't protest, easing his shoulders back to help me out. When he pushes back on his hands to hover over me, there's too much sensory overload to sift through all at once. Too much glossy ink. Too much sinewy skin.
I still don't want to stop.
So I haul his lips back down to mine and linger toward oblivion once more.
Real life, literally, comes knocking only a moment later.
Jack groans against my lips and presses his forehead against mine. "Shit. Do I have to get it?"
As if I wasn't torn enough, his hips tilt downward just enough to make my eyes roll back into my head.
No, don't move. Stay just like this.
The knocking doesn't cease. It just keeps going and going until Jack sighs and pushes himself up on his elbows to maneuver off the couch. He swipes his forgotten shirt off the floor as he moves toward the front door and yanks it over his head, but not before shooting me a wolfish grin from over his shoulder.
That little gesture is all I need to send another flush of heat through my entire body. Everything might have just changed between us, but we're still okay.
It isn't until I hear deep, familiar voices from the door that I know everything isn't, in fact, okay. Suddenly, my cheeks flush hotly again, but not because of Jack's lips or his hands. And because I'm a glutton for punishment, I slide off the couch and move to meet Jack's guest at the door.
Brennan is standing just a few feet away as Jack hovers in front of the doorway, bracing both hands on the frame to keep Brennan from looking too deeply inside.
"I should've handled my shit better," Brennan is telling Jack as I approach. "I know I was a complete douche, especially after I got home and talked to Shannon. I just—"
His words halt because his familiar light eyes have locked right on me. Brennan's gaze flicks to Jack, who's shoulders have gone stiff in front of him, and back to me again. He still doesn't move even when I freeze like a deer in the headlights, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.
Finally, Brennan huffs out a bitter laugh and shakes his head.
"You know," his eyes dart to Jack as he speaks. "I thought you were messin' around with her when we saw Sean today. The way you talked about her, the way you
defended
her...but then I thought,
he can't be that stupid. There's no way he'd be dumb enough to touch her."
I flinch at his words even as Jack's arms fall to his side to let Brennan step inside the apartment. Brennan doesn't move much closer, choosing instead to keep his distance with his arms folded tightly over his chest.
"Since when did you become the morality police?" Jack mutters roughly, but doesn't back down from his position in front of the door. "You waited, what? A month after Sean was in prison before you moved in on Shannon?"
Regret flashes over Brennan's face for just a second. More family history than I ever cared to know has just been unearthed and Jack doesn't back down. Then that hard, judgmental mask tightens Brennan's features again and he jabs a finger in Jack's face.
"Don't talk about my wife. This isn't about her. This is about you screwin' around where you have no business being. God, I don't even know where to start with you right now."
"Don't stand there and look at me like that, you hypocrite," Jack growls, leaning forward just enough to hover inside Brennan's personal space. "You have no idea what you're talking about and if you'd just listen for once instead of flying off the handle like you always do, maybe I'll be able to talk some sense into you for once."
Brennan's eyes slice toward me, narrowing and darkening into tight slits as they shift back to his brother. "I came here because I thought maybe I needed to give you a chance—to give
this
a chance to figure itself out. And so I came here, thinking my brother will be able to help me find you so I can apologize, but here you are. My
sister
and my
brother."
I swallow hard even as Jack moves to stand in front of me, shielding me from Brennan's glare.
"I shouldn't have even bothered," Brennan pushes on, backpedalling toward the door as he speaks. "Just forget it."
With that, he pivots on his heel and stalks to his car, slamming the car door behind him before driving away. The entire time, he never spares us another glance. Just like that, my relationship with my brother is over before it even really had a chance to start. I know why it happened, but I just don't understand why.
The way Brennan looked at us, the disgust written all over his face, how easily he dismissed us without even giving us a chance to explain—what was there really to explain? He saw what he saw and now I feel a little sick to my stomach that it happened at all. I shouldn't have to feel this way. It shouldn't have to end like this before it even really began, just like my relationship with Brennan.
But then again, how did I really think this was going to end? Jack was only comforting me because he felt sorry for me, not because he actually wanted to be close to me. And in the very end, once this is over and Sean is out of prison where he belongs, I doubt Jack will see the need to be near me like this ever again.
"Just give him a little time," Jack calls out to me softly. "He'll come around. You just gotta give him some time."
Time.
Right. The one thing I need is the one thing I really don't have.
Stupid heart. Stupid girl.
Jack
House music pounds in my ears, vibrating against the hardwood planes at my back and I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I bring my beer bottle up to my lips as Enzo Gianotti grins at me from across the table, his glazed eyes and scarred face even more menacing in the strobe lights than in actual daylight. You can dress a predator in the finest linens and leather, but at the end of the day, a predator is still a predator.
Brennan leans his elbows on the table and tilts his chin up to the cocktail waitress passing by. This is the first time since he showed up at my apartment a few days ago that we've actually been in the same room together. He hasn't returned any of my calls or my texts and I guess that's no less than what I deserve. The fact that he's even sitting here with me in the first place is a miracle all on its own—obligation is a shrewd motivator.
Once another order of drinks are on the way, Brennan nods to me, signaling that it's time to get this meeting over with. Enzo's black eyes glint in the flashing lights and they seem to roll over in the back of his head the way a shark's eyes turn black right before striking in for the kill.
"Thank you for agreeing to meet with us again," Enzo tells us good-naturedly with a wave of his hand. "I'm glad to see you're taking our offer seriously."
"Well, we figured it was worth the free drinks to see what you actually had to offer," Brennan retorts and flashes the brothers a cocky grin.
It's that moment Nero leans forward and his hulking presence seems to take up the entire booth. "I think you'll be impressed with the deal. It's really a win-win for everyone involved."
Ah. So because the brawn of the operation thinks we're getting a good deal, I guess we should just take his word for it. Against my better judgment, my gaze flicks around the room, probing the darkness and flashes of light for that shock of red. A little bit of searching gets me exactly what I'm looking for—she's leaning against the bar across the room with Bennett standing protectively in front of her to shield her as much as possible, just like last time. And just like last time, I'm too preoccupied by her presence here to focus.
It doesn't help that she's wearing a leather skirt tonight either. The material sits high on her waist, wrapping around her body all the way to her knees. By all accounts, she's showing way less skin than about 90 percent of the other women in this club tonight, but she's still the most arresting thing in the room. Her auburn hair is curled in messy waves, shiny and glossy in the light. And that skirt...shit, that skirt is going to haunt my dreams tonight.
Distance is the only thing keeping me sane. The only thing keeping me from doing something both of us might seriously regret later. I've wanted to call her. I've wanted to touch her. I've wanted to finish what we started on my couch.
I want her here, but I don't for too many reasons.
Brennan's venomous words flood my mind, "My
sister
and my
brother
."
I don't know how to reconcile it, so I've just done everything I can to ignore it.
"So let's hear it then," Brennan's voice cuts through my thoughts and I'm grateful for the distraction. "What's this deal we're gonna be so impressed with?"
Enzo's eyes narrow for just a moment, but it's long enough to know the time for niceties is now officially over. He reaches inside the pocket of his suit jacket, pulls out a stack of folded papers, and slides them across the table. I glance at Brennan, who just shrugs, and so I grab the papers, unfold them, and scan their contents as quickly as possible.