Hidden Depth (Lockhart Brothers Book 4)

by Brenda Rothert

  “Well, that’s crazy. He’s been alone with me lots of times. If he wanted to hurt me—”

  “It’s not that,” the other security guy says. “We need to know if anything or anyone from his past could be used to gain access to you.”

  I’m about to protest when Justin holds up a hand to stop me.

  “It’s fine,” he says. “We told the security team to do whatever they need to do. They’re running this show.”

  He grabs his car keys and leaves, squeezing one of my shoulders gently on his way out.

  One of the security guys takes off his jacket and hangs it over the back of a chair.

  “So . . . are you guys hanging out here for a while?” I ask.

  The other guard gives me an apologetic look. “For today, we’re going to leave at least two men on you at all times. We’ll back off when things settle down outside.”

  “Is it pretty crazy out there?”

  His eyes widen. “Oh, yeah. We’ll try to stay out of your way as much as we can.”

  “It’s no problem.”

  So much for my day alone with Justin. Even here, there’s always someone watching or checking in. I felt like I was under the thumb of security all the time before, but since the attack happened, I suspect it’ll be even worse now.

  We’d have to escape to a deserted island for me to get the time alone I’m craving with Justin. And even then, I’d have to bring security. I hope it doesn’t turn him off when he realizes this is my life. No quick trips to the grocery store. No dinners out at a local restaurant.

  Being famous can actually be incredibly lonely.

  Justin

  THERE’S NO DENYING MORNING in the guesthouse. Even with the curtains closed, sunlight pours in through the skylights. For the third morning in a row, I’m up right at 7:00 a.m. My internal clock isn’t used to not having to be at work.

  Once my eyes focus, I see that Elle’s scrolling through her phone in bed, the covers tucked around her like a cocoon.

  “Hey, good morning,” I say, getting up from the couch.

  “Morning. Did you sleep okay?”

  “I slept great, how about you?”

  “Six hours in a row again. It’s pretty great not having nurses checking on me all night long anymore.”

  Her eyes follow me as I walk over to the bed, and when I stop at the foot of it, her gaze wanders from my face down to my chest, and then to the morning wood that’s bulging prominently in my dark flannel pants.

  “Lie down with me?” She puts her phone on the nightstand and gives me a smile that makes me forget everything else.

  As I’m climbing into bed, she grabs the round container of mints she keeps on the nightstand and pops one into her mouth.

  “Hit me with one of those, too.” I open my mouth, and she puts a mint in it.

  “What are we doing today?” she asks me. “Another movie marathon, maybe?”

  She moves closer, and I slide a hand around her waist to her lower back. When she puts a palm on my chest and gives a small hum of satisfaction as she runs her fingertips over its lines, my cock throbs in response.

  “Elle . . .”

  “Justin.” She gives me another sexy smile and wraps her leg over mine.

  “I’m trying not to rush things, but . . . you’re not helping.”

  She runs her fingertips down my chest and whispers, “Sorry,” without a trace of apology in her tone.

  Just the brush of her hand on the waistband of my pants makes me groan. It’s been a few months since I’ve had sex, and I’ve never felt more tempted than I am right now.

  “You make me feel good,” Elle says, her voice a soft caress on my cheek.

  Her words turn me on so hard I can’t help myself. I slide my hand down her hip to her bare thigh. She sleeps in nothing but a long T-shirt, which means I don’t just wake up hard every morning here, I go to bed hard, too.

  Fuck resisting. I don’t think I can anymore. If she wants to feel good, I’m in.

  Her teeth sink into her lower lip, and she moans softly as my hand coasts around to the back of her thigh. When I squeeze her ass gently, her mouth opens on a soft sigh.

  “You are perfection,” I say before kissing her temple.

  She doesn’t wear the silicone strip over her scar at bedtime, and I brush my lips over the top of the pink line that runs down her cheek.

  Her ragged exhale is hot against my chest. She takes me by surprise when she kisses me there, slow and easy at first. Working her way up to my shoulder, she bites down and then covers the sting with a gentle lick.

  “Hey, now.” My tone is teasing as I lean back and look at her. “You didn’t tell me you’re a biter.”

  “I never have been.” Her cheeks turn pink with embarrassment. “But there’s something about your body . . . when I see it bare like that, all muscled and defined, I just want to bite it and lick it and squeeze it.”

  “Well, damn.” I swear my dick busts the seam out of my boxer briefs. “You bite and lick and squeeze as much as you want. Am I allowed to do the same?”

  Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips. “Yes. Please.”

  I meet her eyes, searching for certainty. The last thing I want to do is blow things with us by moving too fast.

  “Are you a virgin?” she blurts.

  “Am I a—hell, no, I’m not a virgin.”

  An amused smile dances on her lips. “Then what’s with all the slowness, Lockhart?”

  “I’m trying to be a gentleman.” There’s a little growl in my tone. “You haven’t been with a man since the attack, so . . . it seemed like the right thing to do.”

  “I didn’t tell you about the threesome I had with the two male nurses at the hospital?”

  I pull back my palm and give her ass a smack. “Funny girl, are you?”

  She laughs and runs a hand through my hair. “Don’t assume, Justin. Talk to me. I don’t want you to see me as a fragile victim because of that day.”

  “I don’t see you that way.”

  She arches a brow. “But you don’t want to fuck my brains out either.”

  “Says who?”

  “If you want me, show me. Make me feel like a woman again. You’re the one I want, and I trust you. I’m not afraid of being with you.”

  I get up on one elbow and lace my fingers through hers, pinning her hands above her head and sliding my knee between her thighs.

  “Oh . . . that’s what I’m talkin’ about,” she says softly.

  “I know what we’re doing today.” I lean down and kiss her neck.

  “Hell yes. God, Justin, you’re so big.”

  “I’ll make it feel good.”

  Her laugh is low and sexy. “I didn’t mean your dick, even though, now that you mention it, it’s huge, too. I meant everywhere. I love how wide and . . . muscle-y you are.” She crinkles her brow. “Is that even a word?”

  “We’ll make it one.” I tug her earlobe between my teeth, and she moans.

  “This is gonna be amazing, I can already tell.” She wraps her legs around my waist.

  “Have you only been with pretty boy movie stars?” I lean up on my elbows and look down at her, her tiny hands still tangled up in my large ones. “Am I the first corn-fed guy you’ve ever been with?”

  She giggles, her eyes bright and happy. It’s everything, seeing her so happy and being the one who made her feel this way. It’s like a drug I immediately want more of.

  “I think so. Are you saying you’re better in bed than pretty boy movie stars?”

  I arch my brows. “Much fucking better. At everything. We corn-fed boys kiss better, date better, fuck better . . .” I kiss her neck and say in her ear, “We love better.”

  “Is that so?” She shivers and tightens the hold of her legs around my waist.

  Several loud, insistent knocks sound at the door.

  “Fuck,” I mutter.

  Elle groans. “Worst timing ever.”

  “Wonder who it is.” I slide out of bed a
nd adjust myself.

  “Your mom?”

  I give her a dirty look. “Don’t mention her when I’m still hard, babe.”

  “You want me to answer it?”

  “Nah, I’ve got it.” I pick up my white T-shirt from the back of the couch and put it on as Elle slides back under the bedcovers.

  When I open the door, there’s a very pissed off Andre glaring at me.

  “What’s up, man?” I say.

  “There’s a reporter in your parents’ house.”

  “What? I told them not to let any media in. Did the reporter knock first or just walk in?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Apparently she’s the daughter of a friend of your mother.”

  “Oh. Becky Carver. Yeah, my mom’s friends with her mom. Maybe Becky’s not here as a reporter?”

  “She’s trying to convince your mom to let her bring a cameraman in and interview them about Elle.”

  “Are you fucking serious? And my mom didn’t shut her down?”

  “Didn’t look like it to me.” He gives me a look that tells me to fix it—right now.

  “Stay with her,” I say, sliding on my shoes and walking out the door.

  When I get in the house, my mom is watering her houseplants in the kitchen.

  “Morning,” she says brightly. “Do you guys want some breakfast?”

  “Is Becky Carver here?” I look around the room.

  “No, she left.”

  “Tell me you didn’t tell her she can come back.”

  She waves a hand at me. “Of course not. You know how it is. I wanted to be nice, even though I couldn’t give her what she wanted.”

  “Did you tell her anything about Elle?”

  “No, Justin. You asked us not to, and we won’t.” She sets down her watering can and looks at me. “Do you need some coffee?”

  “Yeah, that sounds good.”

  She walks over to her canister on the counter, gasping as soon as she opens it. “I forgot to buy coffee yesterday. Darn it. Now I won’t have any for the security team when they switch shifts.”

  “I’ll run to the store and grab some.”

  “Would you?” She gives me a grateful look.

  “Yeah, I’ll just grab some jeans from my bedroom and go.”

  “Thank you.”

  I change my pants and grab the keys to my dad’s truck from the hook by the back door. When I get to the biggest of the town’s two grocery stores, there are already quite a few cars in the lot.

  I used to do grocery runs for my mom all the time, and I remember where everything is here. I’m reading labels, trying to find the brand she likes, when a voice nearby says my name.

  When I turn, Mallory Heller is looking at me expectantly.

  “Oh, hey.” When I smile, she opens her arms and goes in for a hug.

  It’s a long hug, and when I finally pull away, her eyes look misty. It’s strange to see her getting so emotional over me when we haven’t spoken in four years.

  “I’m so glad you’re back,” she says, taking a deep breath. “Home. Here to stay.”

  “Yeah, well I—”

  A little girl peeks out from behind Mallory.

  “Hey,” I say to her, then look at Mallory. “Is she yours?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, that’s great. Are you . . . with someone?”

  She smiles, her cheeks flushing. “Her father, you mean?”

  “Well, I guess.”

  “I’m not with her father, but I hope to be.” She takes another deep breath. “Because that would be you.”

  Elle

  It’s been a couple of hours since Justin sent me a cryptic text that he had something to take care of and would be back as soon as possible. It’s just me and the two security guys, Melvin and Dan.

  I wish Chloe were here. I rely on her to be there for me always, and maybe I even take her for granted. She deserves this vacation and I’m glad she took it, but I miss her steady, supportive presence.

  At the sound of a knock on the door, Melvin puts a hand on the holstered gun on his hip and meets Dan’s eyes from across the room. I’m sitting on the couch, and Dan comes over to stand between me and the door as Melvin opens it.

  Justin probably wouldn’t knock, but I’m hoping it’s him anyway.

  “Hi,” a female voice says from the other side of the door after Melvin opens it. “I’m Ivy Lockhart. I’m looking for Elle.”

  I peek around Dan and see a beautiful woman with long auburn hair and bright blue eyes. She smiles when she sees me, and I smile back.

  “She can come in,” I say.

  I recognize Ivy from photos Justin showed me of his family. She’s even prettier in person. When she comes in and hugs me, I can tell she’s also a warm person.

  “It’s kind of surreal seeing you in person,” she says as she takes me in.

  “I’m sure I look different than the pictures you’ve seen.”

  “Not really.” Her gaze flickers to the silicone strip on my cheek. “I’m so sorry about what happened, Elle. No one should ever have to experience that.”

  “Thanks.” I clear my throat nervously. “Do you want to sit down? I have sweet tea.”

  She smiles. “I bet you do. Grace won’t let you get below half a pitcher.”

  “Is she a sweet tea pusher?”

  Ivy laughs as we walk over to the small white table and two chairs in the kitchen area. “Oh, yeah. Sweet tea and baked goods. My son Noah always hits the cookie jar as soon as we walk in the door. I’m sure the baby will, too, when he’s old enough.”

  She sits down, and I take out two glasses and the pitcher of tea from the fridge. “How old are your kids?”

  “Noah is six, and Lucas is almost three months.” Pride shines in her eyes.

  “I hope I get to meet them.”

  “Oh, you will. We’re holding back on overwhelming you with the entire family at once, but the Lockharts are very close.”

  I sigh softly. “That sounds nice. I just have my parents and one aunt.”

  “Wait till you have kids hanging from both arms and another one running circles around you,” she says with a laugh. “You might change your mind.”

  “Nah. I love kids. That’s . . . or it was . . . my favorite part about what I do. Making kids happy.”

  Ivy takes a sip of tea and sets her glass down on the table. “So . . . I’m not really supposed to be here. We’re trying not to overwhelm you, like I said, and I know you just got here.”

  “No, it’s fine. Justin had to go out, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to.”

  “Good. I just couldn’t help myself, because . . .” Her gaze wanders to the two men standing by the front door of the guesthouse.

  “Hey, guys, can we have a few minutes?” I say.

  Melvin frowns. “We’re not supposed to—”

  “I know. But can’t you just wait on the other side of the door for a few minutes?” I offer up my most pleading smile.

  Dan tips his head toward the door, and they both leave.

  “Thanks,” Ivy says. “I’m careful about getting too personal with people I don’t know.” She crinkles her brow. “I don’t mean you, of course, because Justin thinks the world of you, and that’s enough for me.”

  I like her so much. She has such natural grace and radiance. Ivy is someone I can see myself spending a lot of time with.

  “Justin’s pretty amazing,” I say, my cheeks warming as I think about this morning.

  “He is. Of all the people who could have found you that day . . . Well, the Lockharts are good people to have in your corner. They’re all good under pressure.”

  She takes a deep breath and wraps her hands around the sweating glass of iced tea. “I just want to tell you that my heart went out to you when I heard about what happened, because I’m a survivor myself. I was sexually assaulted by my father when I was in high school.”

  I cover my mouth with my hand. “Oh my God. Ivy, I’m so sorry.”

  “Than
ks. I’ve come a long way since then.”

  “I never would have imagined . . . I mean, you’re so poised and . . .” I’m fumbling for words, and she saves me.

  “That’s the thing about survivors. We’re just regular people trying to live life the best we can, you know?”

  I nod. “I really do.”

  She reaches across the table and covers my hand with hers. “If you’re struggling, that’s completely normal.”

  “Is it that obvious?” I smile sadly, my eyes welling with tears.

  “Who wouldn’t struggle after something like what happened to you?”

  “How long did it take you to move past what you went through?”

  She considers for a second before answering. “I’m not sure I am past it. Something like that . . . it changes you forever. I know I’m stronger now, and I have deep empathy for other survivors.” She sighs heavily. “I may look like I have it all together, and overall, I do, but I’m an overprotective mom because of what happened to me. And anytime I leave the house without Reed—even if I’m just going outside to get something from my own garage—I have to be wearing this.”

  She opens her palm, and I see that the thick silver band on her finger has a long, pointed end. It’s a couple inches long and looks like the tip of a spear.

  “It’s a self-defense thing.” She gives me a half shrug and reaches into her purse. “I brought you one.”

  “Have you ever needed to use it?” I take the one she passes across the table and examine it.

  “I’ve never needed to defend myself with it, no. But I’ve needed it every time I put it on, because it puts my mind at ease.”

  “I can totally understand that.”

  She looks down at the table. “I didn’t fight him off that day. My father. I just lay there in a kind of shock that was mental and physical.”

  It hurts my heart to hear her recount something so evil. I was attacked by a stranger, but Ivy was let down by someone who was supposed to be protecting her from harm, not harming her himself.

  “That’s what anyone would do in that situation,” I say, squeezing her hand. “I mean . . . it’s so awful.”

  “I beat myself up over that for a long time. Wondered why I didn’t fight back.”

  My eyes widen with surprise as she’s talking. “I beat myself up because I did fight back. I wonder all the time . . . if I had just let him rape me, maybe I’d be planning my next tour right now.”