Her gaze cut to Wes. “What have you done?”
He kept his attention on his robotic henchman.
“If you’re asking about the monitor, tamper-proof is just code for a challenge. You know that. As for the Roomba, the feds get suspicious if you don’t move around a little.”
“You programmed it to go to the bathroom?”
“And the kitchen.” His eyes grew dark with determination. “I told you. I’m going to clear my name.”
“What about my name?” The words ripped from her chest, jagged and sharp. “This is my career on the line, do you understand that? You’ve been remanded into my care. I’m supposed to make sure you’re following the rules. I can get disbarred for this.”
“They’d have to catch me first.”
Anger bubbled up in her chest. She needed to move. Needed to burn off this frantic, anxious electricity crackling in her muscles. “In case you’ve forgotten, they already caught you! That’s the reason that we’re in this mess! How did you even...”
Her eyes lit on her laptop, and all the color drained from her face. Her blood turned to liquid nitrogen in her veins, so cold it burned. “Where did you get that?”
But she knew. Knew it had been stashed in her closet, behind vintage Chanel, right next to a shoebox full of secrets that Wes didn’t know.
That she didn’t want him to know.
“You went snooping in my bedroom?” When she turned on him, there was still white-hot anger, yes, but it was the kind that was laced with terror. Had he seen the shoebox? Poked inside it? “You had no right!”
Emotions whirled inside her, banging up against each other, with nowhere to go. She made a move to shove him, but the second her hands met his skin, he caught her wrists, and his fury rose up to meet hers.
“Then why the hell did you get me out of jail?”
The question hung between them, both of them breathing hard, her palms pressed against his chest, her wrists manacled by his hands.
When Wes spoke again, he was dangerously close, and his voice was dangerously soft. “You knew I would do this. Tell me you knew I would do this.”
Vivienne was helpless to do anything but nod. Because she had. Her attempts to find her blackmailer and deal with the mess she’d made herself had gotten her nowhere. And the idea of him rotting in prison for a second longer than he already had broke her heart.
Her throat burned, and to her mortification, she could feel her eyes welling with tears that she was desperate not to let him see. But it was too late. She couldn’t hide them. Not anymore.
CHAPTER NINE
“DON’T CRY, VIV.”
Wes had meant it to sound soothing, but it came out hostile.
Angry.
Because he was.
He was fucking furious, but he shouldn’t be taking it out on her. The only person who’d offered him any sort of help when he needed it the most. The last person he wanted to see him like this...at his lowest.
And now he’d dragged her down with him.
Like he always did.
You can’t make things better, so stop trying!
His mother’s words echoed through his brain. She’d said it to him every time he’d found her crying her eyes out at the news that his father had pulled some new, boneheaded stunt that had landed him back behind bars. Every time he’d discovered her passed out in a pool of vomit after another failed attempt to erase the pain with booze. Every time he’d come upon her rocking in the corner, strung out on whatever cut-rate product one of the many men who wasn’t his dad was willing to part with in exchange for whatever she had to do to get it.
He’d promised himself that one day he’d have enough money, enough power, to prove his mother wrong. To make things better for his little sister so that she didn’t have to grow up like he had. To make himself worthy of the smart, beautiful, challenging woman he’d fallen half in love with the night he’d met her.
And for a little while, he thought he’d managed to fool Vivienne into loving him back.
But the truth was that she’d seen him for what he really was early. She’d bailed before he’d even gotten Soteria Security up and running.
To punish her for not believing in him, for not giving him a chance, he’d spent the last six years working himself—and Jesse—into the ground, taking the company from nothing to market dominance in record time.
And as the money rolled in, he thought he’d broken the curse. Proved his mother wrong.
But the truth was, Lorraine Brennan had been right all along.
Because despite his best efforts, he’d ended up in jail. Lost his company and his reputation. He was broke. And ostracized. And he’d just managed to alienate his only ally.
But then Vivienne lifted her chin, eyes still glittering with tears that she wouldn’t let fall, and all the vulnerability of the moment before had morphed into sheer force of will. A broken angel. She was absolutely magnificent.
“Why didn’t you come to see me?”
“What?”
Vivienne met his eyes without flinching. “At Yale. Why didn’t you come after me?”
The question collapsed his lungs, like she’d landed a good hard punch to his solar plexus.
“I thought about it.” A million times. Maybe more. But there’d always been one more milestone to reach that he’d thought would make him ready to go after her. Make him worthy of her. “God, Viv. I thought about it, about you. All the time. But I couldn’t... I needed to make Soteria a success before I saw you again.”
Her brows dipped in an offended frown. “You thought I’d care about that?”
“Of course, I thought you’d care about that! Every moment of being with you felt like a test. From that first night of verbal foreplay to the last night, when you shoved that goddamn plane ticket in my face and forced me to choose.”
“And you did.” She dropped her gaze.
To his surprise, when she lifted her head again, the anger looked a lot more like pain.
“I guess I just hoped, after Jesse showed up that—”
Everything in him went still and sharp. “Jesse visited you? When?”
“Right after—” Viv cut herself off. Shook her head. “It’s not important.”
“Then why’d you bring it up?”
“Because it should have been you!”
It hurt to fucking breathe. “You’re the one who left.”
“And you’re the one who let me go.”
Wes shook his head, weary. “Don’t say it like I had a choice. I thought you were going to Stanford. You said you were going to Stanford. Jesus, Viv. We were together two years and you didn’t even feel the need to mention that Yale was a goddamn option.” The ache of old wounds pulsed in his chest. “I watched my mom give up everything to make my dad love her, and it was a losing game. I swore I wasn’t going to make the same mistake.”
“Is that what we were? A mistake?” Her eyelashes were tear-damp and spiky, but her voice didn’t waver.
“I don’t know what we were. I just knew I had to make Soteria a success. To finally do something to prove that I could take care of you.”
Anger flooded her cheeks. Not broken anymore. Avenging. “I didn’t need you to take care of me.”
Something cracked and splintered behind his ribs. “You think I didn’t know that? Of course, I knew that! Do you know how many sugar momma jokes I endured from your college friends? How it felt to have your dad look down his nose at me because of the calluses on my hands?”
“And that mattered more to you than how I felt?”
“Not more. But it mattered. What they thought was just one part of it—do you get that? It was about what I thought. I needed to prove to myself that I was responsible enough to show up for you in all the ways that mattered. That if we ever got married, or had kids, that I could be bet
ter than my con man, absentee-dad role model.”
Viv blanched at the confession, and Wes cursed himself. Jesus. Why were they even talking about this stuff? It was dead and long buried. Resurrection at this point wouldn’t revive anything but a slimy, rotting mess.
“Let me go.”
Wes looked down. He’d been so caught up in the moment that he was surprised to see he was still holding her hands against his chest. But when he obeyed the order, she didn’t call him an asshole and storm away like he deserved.
She took off her blouse.
“Viv...” He wasn’t sure if it was a warning or a plea.
And when her skirt hit the floor, he found he didn’t much care.
“I don’t want to fight anymore.” She reached behind her to unhook her bra.
That hum of awareness that had started yesterday in the elevator was back, arcing between them, charging up his cells. So fucking beautiful.
She slid her panties down her thighs, stepping out of them when they hit the floor. “I’m so tired of fighting.”
And just when Wes thought he couldn’t get any luckier, she reached out and his towel hit the floor. He had a moment to wonder at the power she wielded over him before it surged bright and hot, and she crushed her mouth to his, clutching at his shoulders as he yanked her up his body. Then she moaned into his mouth as she wrapped her legs around his waist and he was lost. The realization rang an alarm bell in his head.
He was too much like his mother, so desperate to escape reality, to trade everything for a moment’s pleasure.
Despite the need coursing through his body, and how good she felt pressed up against him, Wes forced himself to break the kiss.
Vivienne’s fingers tightened on his shoulders in protest. “Wes,” she breathed. “Please don’t stop.”
But she wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were closed. Just like they’d been in the elevator. And on the dining room table.
Fucking to forget.
And the thought that she might be pretending he was someone else, even some former version of himself, was more than he could handle.
“Not like this.” The words scraped against his throat as he unhooked her ankles from around his hips and set her down.
“Not like what?” she asked. Her eyes were open now, wide with confusion as he stepped back from her.
“I just got out of jail.”
The slightest crease marred her forehead. “I know.”
“You know, but do you understand what that means? I’m not the same guy you used to screw in the bathroom at Señor Taco’s for kicks.” Wes dragged his hand through his hair. “Everything has changed, and we’re way past that. So if you want to fuck me, you’re going to have to do it with your eyes wide-open. Because I’m done pretending.”
Vivienne stared at him for a long time. So long that when she finally spoke, her words didn’t make sense in his brain. “Challenge accepted.”
“What?”
“Sit down, Wes.”
He obeyed, dropping his big frame onto the couch, watching in awe as she crawled on him, planting a knee on either side of his hips. When she’d settled, her breasts were at eye level, pretty pink nipples drawn tight, begging for his mouth. But before he could decide where to start, she curled a finger under his chin and angled his head higher.
“My eyes are up here,” she teased. “We haven’t even started yet, and you’re already breaking the rules. You sure you can handle this?” she asked.
A moment ago, he’d been positive he could. But then she reached between them, and his hips canted the second her hand made contact with his cock, and suddenly, he wasn’t so sure.
No one touched him like Viv. Literally. Figuratively.
God, she was beautiful.
He loved the way her eyes widened and her breath caught as she took him inside. The slow, sweet slide of her down the length of him was the most exquisite torture. No better feeling in the world.
And then she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and started to move and made a liar of him.
Wes ran his hands up her torso, palming her breasts, watching the pleasure ripple across her face as he flicked his thumb across her nipple.
Her mouth parted, and she ran her palms up the sides of his neck until she held his bearded jaw between her hands as she increased her pace.
The pressure was mind-blowing, and when he dropped his hands to her waist, he tried to remind himself that he was the one who’d wanted to slow things down, even as he flexed his thighs, driving his hips higher, burying his cock deeper every time she was on the down stroke.
Her legs trembled with effort as she rode him, staring deep into his eyes, and then she broke with the sweetest cry, melting all over him as her body pulsed around his shaft, squeezing him until he couldn’t help but follow her over the edge.
She was breathing hard as she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his, and he ran his hand up her back, until he reached that constellation of beauty marks. He didn’t need to see them to trace them into a star pattern with his finger. He knew them by heart.
“You were right.” She breathed, before catching his lips in a long, slow kiss.
“About the benefits of fucking me with your eyes open?” he asked when she finally pulled back.
“No.”
Her Cheshire cat smile hit him in the gut.
“About how much this couch sucks.” She nipped his bottom lip, and he groaned in protest as she pulled away, getting to her feet in front of him. “Maybe it would be best if you slept in my room tonight.”
She held out her hand, and after a long, charged moment, Wes took it, letting her tug him to his feet before he followed her to her bedroom.
CHAPTER TEN
SOMEONE WAS IN the apartment.
Wes’s heart rate jacked up, and he was instantly alert at the sound of the front door unlatching. He looked down at the sleeping woman beside him and his fear doubled. Vivienne gave a sleepy moan as he slid her carefully off his chest.
Grabbing his underwear, Wes yanked it on, searching the room for some kind of weapon, considering the merits of stabbing someone with a high-heeled shoe, but then the burglar shut the door with a complete lack of finesse, and he rolled his eyes.
Wes pulled the bedroom door shut behind him as quietly as possible, crossing his arms as he came around the corner. “The reports of your stealthiness are greatly exaggerated.”
AJ turned away from the dull wall art to face him. “Hey, I was just giving you a heads-up so you could make yourself presentable.” Her gaze slid dismissively over him, from head to foot. “But obviously you suffer from a raging case of chronic shirtlessness.”
“That’s why you’re here. Did you get the stuff?”
“Of course, I got the stuff.”
AJ tossed the bag in her right hand at him, and he caught it against his chest. “Your clothes, sir. Because apparently, I’m a fucking personal shopper now. I just brought you a bunch of black stuff.”
Wes side-eyed her black Doc Martens, black jeans, black T-shirt and black leather jacket. “We’ll match. How exciting.”
She held up the duffel in her other hand. “Also, one air-gapped laptop, one burner phone and a bunch of other gadgets you should have asked me for but didn’t.”
Wes dug a pair of sweatpants out of the tangle of clothes before he gestured vaguely at the couch, and AJ set the tech equipment on it.
“The suits didn’t take it easy when they searched your place. They tossed it. And you’ve still got a few reporters snooping around.”
Wes’s jaw tightened at the news. “I assume you took adequate precautions. Liam Kearney’s current girlfriend showing up at Max Whitfield’s ex-lawyer’s place isn’t quite the low-profile operation I’m trying to run right now.”
“You’re the one who dragged me into thi
s. You don’t like how I operate, then find someone else.” AJ joined the duffel bag on the couch, flopping onto the nearest cushion. “What the hell, man? Is this thing stuffed with broken glass and lace thongs or something? It’s like they corporealized uncomfortable and made a couch out of it.”
Wes pulled the sweatpants on before reaching back into the bag for a shirt. “I’ve never worn a lace thong, but your hypothesis seems plausible. And as I already explained, I chose you because you’re the best.”
She shot him a saccharine smile as he dragged a T-shirt over his head. “I know. I just like hearing you say it.”
Vivienne walked into the living room just then, looking sex mussed and gorgeous in his landscaping T-shirt. She paused as she took in the woman sprawled on her inhospitable furniture. “Oh, hello. I didn’t realize Wes had company.”
AJ tipped her chin up in greeting, but her shrewd gaze moved from Vivienne’s state of undress back to Wes. He ignored her knowing look.
“Nice place you got here. You should change your security code. Mom’s birthday isn’t even going to keep the amateurs out, let alone the pros.”
Vivienne’s gaze snapped toward him, but he was already shaking his head. “I did not tell her to say that.”
Viv turned the unimpressed look away from him and back onto their visitor. “So are you an amateur, or a pro?”
“I’m not really into labels. And I go where I want.”
Vivienne frowned slightly, pointed at AJ. “I know you. You were in Max’s office.”
“When you quit, yeah.”
Viv’s eyes found his, and Wes nodded, setting her mind at ease that that connection wasn’t news to him. Her shoulders relaxed.
“I apologize if I was rude. I wasn’t myself that day.”
“No big.” AJ waved off the apology.
“Coffee?”
The Roomba zipped back into the room, and AJ’s eyes widened with tech envy as she took in the blinking ankle monitor riding atop it. It was the look of eager hacker geeks everywhere. She wanted to play. “I could be talked into staying for a bit.”
Guilty Pleasure Page 8
