Well, he was in for a real surprise.
“What are you talking about? You know what?”
I crossed my arms over my chest and stood to my full height, straightening my back and lifting my shoulders. “Who the hell is Amelia, and how long have you been fucking her?”
I thought guilt would flash instantly across his face. I thought he’d give himself immediately away, incriminating himself and revealing the truth. That he was cheating on me.
But none of that happened. Instead, surprise remained on his features for several long moments before slipping into confusion. His eyebrows pinched together, and he tilted his head to the side.
“I’m sorry, but what are you talking about?” he repeated with a little more emphasis this time.
“You heard me. I know all about Amelia.”
“Doubtful,” he told me, and his mouth tugged into a smirk as amusement slipped across his features.
“Excuse me? Are you seriously going to stand there and try to deny it?”
“Deny that I’m sleeping with my sister? Absolutely.”
I blinked. “What?”
His smirk turned into a genuine smile. “Amelia. She’s my little sister.”
Sister? Was that… possible?
The anger left me in a rush as the possibility that there really was a reasonable explanation for everything hit me. Sister.
“If she’s your sister, why didn’t you tell me about her?”
He sighed. “Come in.” When I didn’t move, he stepped aside and added, “Please? I’m not going to explain to you while you stand on my front porch. That’s just rude.”
After a moment, I stepped in after him. I wasn’t 100 percent convinced about the whole sister thing, but now that there was a competing theory over who she could be, well, I was willing to be a little more reasonable.
Mostly because it wasn’t until that moment right there that I realized just how much I wanted this woman to be his sister.
I didn’t want Callum to be cheating on me.
I wanted him to love me, even if that was scary as shit.
I stood awkwardly in the foyer for a long moment, not really sure what to do with myself.
Callum looked back over at me and smiled. He gestured toward the couch in the living room. “Have a seat. I’ll get the pictures.”
Pictures?
I went into the living room—the couch was a velvety red-wine color while the drapes were a soft color caught somewhere between midnight blue and purple—and sat in the middle of the couch. Callum had disappeared around the corner to fetch whatever pictures he wanted me to see, and I found myself on edge as I waited.
What if Callum’s proof wasn’t convincing? What if this was all just a bullshit lie? Part of his act?
I hoped it wasn’t, but I had my reservations.
Callum returned after a few minutes with a photo album. “I want you to know, these are bad.”
He set the album on his lap and opened it up, revealing pictures of himself as a child—with a young girl a little younger than him at his side. He pointed at her. “This is Amelia.”
He flipped to several more pages, each one filled with pictures of family events, him standing with that little girl. But it wasn’t until the one of him in high school showed up that I was convinced.
“Jesus, is that Liz?”
“Elizabeth? Yeah, she’s my stepsister.”
My eyes widened into saucers. What were the odds that I met his stepsister in college? Apparently, pretty good, because that sure as hell was her, standing next to Callum and… Amelia. His sister. The stepsister that Liz always bitched about.
“Unbelievable,” I murmured.
He shrugged. “My parents had a nasty divorce when I was younger. Dad was a good man, more or less, but his weakness was women. In general. He couldn’t leave it at just one woman, so he always ended up fucking around. Mom was obviously upset when she found out.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.”
He waved off my apology. “They split, dad remarried Patricia Laney, Elizabeth’s mother. It was kind of a joke, and it definitely didn’t last, but it was enough to make us legally family.”
It was hard to believe that the world was that small, but the evidence of it was staring me right in the face. “I can’t believe it.”
He nodded. “I made a promise to my father to take care of Amelia. So here she is. Once again in need of care.”
Callum took the album from my hands and set it beside him on the cushion. Then he turned to face me. “Don’t ever think I’m not faithful. My dad was an asshole. I’m not. If I don’t want to be with you, you’ll fucking know. No games, no other women.”
I bit my lip, feeling oddly vulnerable after the whole thing. “Promise?”
He nodded, eyes burning. He cupped my cheeks and pulled me to him, his mouth crashing against mine in a demanding kiss that was as much a promise as his words.
It was probably only supposed to be reassuring, but he couldn’t seem to leave it at that. His tongue slipped across the seam of my lips until they parted. He explored my mouth with his tongue while his hands moved from my face down to my shoulders. They continued lower until they found my hips, gripping them and jerking my body toward his.
My breasts crashed against his hard chest, and I moaned. I wrapped my arms around his neck as my leg lifted to settle in his lap.
His hands were tugging at my shirt, pulling it free from the skirt I was wearing. My hands were busy, too. I was dragging one down the front of his chest, letting my fingers trail over those hard abs, until I found the waistband of his sweats. He broke our kiss to suck in a harsh breath when my hand dipped beneath the fabric of his pants to brush against his member.
He was already hard.
“Fuck, Marnie,” he ground out.
I grinned, then started placing kisses along his neck and shoulders as I wrapped my hand around the length of him.
I gave him a good, long stroke, his hips trying to jerk into my hand as a result. He was cursing up a storm as his hands got my blouse free of my skirt. But that wasn’t enough. His hands went to the front of my shirt to start unbuttoning it.
“Damnit, Marnie, I’m getting you a Velcro shirt,” he managed to get out as his fingers fumbled with my buttons.
I giggled but silently agreed with him. Velcro was an excellent idea. I crawled on top of Callum’s lap, causing my skirt to ruck up to my hips. I continued to stroke him, and he groaned in pleasure.
Finally, he managed to get my blouse open, then cursed again. “Velcro and no bras. It’s the newest thing.”
I laughed at him, then gasped as his hands dipped beneath my bra to cup my breasts. A moan escaped my lips when his fingers found my nipples and began to roll them, making them hard.
“I need inside you, Marnie,” he told me bluntly. “Now.”
I nodded in agreement. I released his cock out of necessity only. Standing, I pushed down my skirt, then kicked off my panties. My blouse went next, followed by my bra.
Callum was quicker. All he had to do was shuck off his sweats and jerk his tank up over his head. And just like that he was naked, his full glory there in front of my eyes.
We didn’t spend long staring and admiring each other. We were too worked up, too eager. I laid back on the floor, thankful for the thick, soft throw rug beneath me. Callum followed quickly, his hands caressing my bare body. He let his palm slide up from my thighs, along my waist and ribs, to reach my breast. He fondled me, squeezing the supple flesh there until I was arching up into his palm.
His mouth was equally eager. He kissed my stomach, my ribs, finally my breasts. He popped a single nipple into his mouth, then rolled his tongue over it. Then he caught it between his teeth and worried at it.
I gasped. “Oh, please. More.”
He suckled my breast a moment longer, then returned the favor to the other. Finally, when he was satisfied that he’d played with me enough—for now—he sat up on his haunches so that he could posi
tion himself better between my legs.
My body hummed with anticipation, waiting, wanting. When I felt him position his cock at my entrance, I almost sighed with relief. He pressed the head between my lips, and the next movement was a thrust that made him bottom out within me.
I cried out in pleasure, arching my back, and he grunted in agreement.
He didn’t give me a moment to adjust. Instead, he started thrusting immediately, hard, fast and needy. I loved it. My hips rose to meet his, determined to keep up. I clutched at his sweaty body, holding him close to me, riding out our lovemaking.
I felt him shake and tremble, his thrusts becoming erratic. I knew he was close, and I wanted him to topple over the edge.
“Please, Callum, come,” I told him, and he did.
He lost himself inside me, then collapsed on top of me. He rolled over quickly so as not to crush me, but then pulled me to him. He wasn’t ready to let me go yet.
It made me feel better than anything else. Better than the sex, than the promise. Everything. Because he wanted me to be close to him.
We relaxed like that for a long while, before his phone went off.
He groaned when he looked at the screen. “It’s Amelia.”
I was thankful that whole thing was cleared up, otherwise I would have thrown a fit about that statement. “So? Ignore her.”
“It’s not so simple. She’s… it’s complicated. She’s kind of a pain in the ass, and honestly, she’s ruined more than a few things for me in the past.”
“Jesus. Then why the hell are you helping her?”
“I told you. I promised my father.” He shrugged, causing my head to move with his shoulder. “Besides, she swears she’s trying to get her act together. Everyone deserves another chance, right?”
Well, I wasn’t sure about everyone, but I didn’t say that. Instead, I nodded. “Yeah, I guess they do.” I paused, then looked up at him. “You’re sweet, if maybe a little stupid sometimes.”
He laughed. “Yeah, you might be right. But she’s only staying a couple of months. Just until she gets back on her feet.”
I nodded again. “Shit. I should text Courtney.” I needed to let her know that we got our wires crossed and that the whole thing was just a misunderstanding. But before I got to my phone, he was already pulling me back to him.
“Text her later. We’ve got more pressing matters.”
I rolled on top of him this time, ready and eager for round two.
Chapter Eighteen
Marnie
One month later.
Finally.
Fucking finally.
The manuscript was dropped off at my desk first thing in the morning, bright and early. I’d been waiting on this damn book for several months—and at least a month longer than originally planned—and all I could think was thank God.
I was seriously starting to think Harvey wasn’t going to give me anything, but here it was.
There were a stack of papers sitting on my desk several inches thick. I was excited to get started, and not just because I’d been impatiently waiting for it. Harvey also happened to be an awesome writer, whether I wanted to admit it or not, and getting my hands on the unedited copy first was something of a treat for me.
I was practically salivating over the manuscript, but before getting started, I poked my head out of my office.
“Courtney?”
“Yeah, boss?”
She’d been back for the last three weeks, and she was acting as impervious as ever. Nothing could touch that woman. At least, that was what she was trying to convince everyone of. I was grateful, mostly, to have her back to normal, though I felt badly that she hadn’t gotten her romantic happy ending like I had.
But at least we had worked things out. The mess with Amelia and all the confusion that came with it helped solve some of our personal problems. We got on the same page and resolved our fight. It felt good to know she was back in my life like she was always meant to be.
“Hello? Earth to Marnie?”
I shook myself out of my thoughts. “Yeah, sorry. Um… I got the manuscript today, so make sure I’m not interrupted.” Courtney barely paused at the mention of the manuscript, though she almost certainly knew who had delivered it. She was working hard to be unaffected. “You doing okay?”
She glanced over at me finally and offered a small smile. “Of course. I’m totally fine. And more importantly, I’m completely over Harvey. In fact, it’s a good thing that we broke it off before anything really started.”
She turned back to her desk like that was that.
I frowned. I knew that she was probably still a little sore over the whole thing. Whether they wanted to admit it or not, Courtney had really connected to Trent—she just hadn’t realized it was him at the time.
I felt bad for my friend, but there was nothing for it. I left the wound alone in the hopes that it would heal properly.
“Yeah, okay. Well, I’ll be working on the manuscript.”
She nodded. “I’ll make sure your schedule’s cleared.”
I disappeared back into my office, then settled behind my desk for the best damn book I’d read in a while. I hoped so anyway.
I pulled the papers to me, getting comfortable in my chair, ready and willing to be amazed even as I uncapped my favorite red pen. For the next three hours, I was wrapped up in Harvey’s work. The twists, the turns. He had a few grammatical things that I would have a proofreader fix later on, and I picked up on a couple of plot contradictions, but for the most part, the story flowed like a river. Smooth on the surface, but speeding along beneath.
But as I read, I couldn’t help but notice something. A very specific character. One that almost seemed like maybe she’d been added on about halfway in…
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
I stopped reading immediately and burst out of my office. A second later I was standing in front of Courtney’s desk, slapping the manuscript down in front of her.
She jumped a little, startled. “Whoa, Marnie! What’s going on?”
“You need to read this.”
Her eyebrows rose in question. “What?”
“This. You need to read it. Just trust me.”
She was clearly confused, but the best way to explain it—and to convince her of the truth—was to have her read it for herself. It was the only way she was going to believe it.
“O-kay,” she answered, carefully pulling the manuscript toward her.
For the next few hours, I waited. Waited for her to read what I had. About the queen. The queen of all good women, the changer and stealer of hearts, and the only thing in the world who could reform a man who had lost his way. It was beautiful, poetic, and highly personal. Because it didn’t take a genius to figure out that the main character was Harvey himself.
I’ve only seen a fleeting glimpse of her glory, her wonder, but I will never go a night without seeing her in my dreams. I have been blessed with that much at least. My only regret in life is that I wasn’t able to hold on to that beauty, that magic in real life.
It wasn’t the book I’d been expecting. It was hugely different from his other books. But it was beautiful and poetic, and most importantly, it had been written for Courtney. That much I was sure of.
I knew when Courtney was finished, because there were tears in her eyes. She was working hard to hold them back, but she couldn’t. She set the manuscript down, and I took it gently off her desk.
“You should go. Make it an early day,” I told her softly.
“But…”
I shook my head. “Go. You need to talk to him.”
She didn’t say anything else. She just grabbed her things and headed to the elevator. It wasn’t until the doors were closing on her that she called out a thank-you.
I smiled and hoped that she figured out what kind of happy ending she wanted and whether she could have it with Trent.
Chapter Nineteen
Courtney
My heart was pounding as I go
t out of my car. I’d left it parked along the side of the road, not caring about tickets or whose spot I might have filched. I didn’t care. I only had one thing on my mind: Trent Harvey.
I hurried up the sidewalk to his house and pounded on the door. I was so worked up, so excited and nervous and everything else, that my hands were shaking. But I was grateful to be here. All I wanted now was a chance.
It took a moment before the door opened, but when it did, I didn’t waste a beat. “Did you really mean what you wrote?” I blurted ineloquently, the words tumbling out of my mouth in a hurried rush. I wanted the answers now. I needed to know what he was really feeling before I could admit what I was feeling.
For a moment, he was silent. He stared at me as though he were drinking me in, a man who hadn’t seen beauty in years and was suddenly taken to the streets of Paris. I didn’t know that I deserved that kind of reverence, but I loved it just the same.
“Every word of it,” he told me fiercely.
I felt tears prick at my eyes again. I hadn’t been willing to admit how much I really wanted him to say that until he was standing right here in front of me saying it. “Why?”
His full lips pulled up into a small smile. “Because it was what I felt, what I do feel.” He stepped closer to me, actually coming outside so that we were both standing on his stoop. His large hands went to my arms, gripping them gently. “You’re my muse, Courtney. The inspiration I needed to finish the manuscript. I was starved for it, but there you were all along. I just had to find you.”
I felt my mouth begin to pull up into a smile. “Really?”
He nodded, his eyes searching mine. “And I wish… fuck, I wish I hadn’t messed this all up from day one, but I can’t change that. All I can do is spend the rest of my life trying to fix it. If you’ll let me.”
I felt a laugh bubble up in my throat, my mouth splitting into a grin that had to take up my entire face. Before he could be hurt by my laughter, however, I reached for his face, cupping his cheeks between my hands. “Don’t be so dramatic,” I told him. And then I kissed him.
I kissed him like I meant it, like I needed it. Because it really felt like I did.
His lips were full and hot against mine. When our lips parted, he tasted a little like vanilla, just like our first kiss. His hands found their way to my waist, tentative, as though afraid I might change my mind at any moment.
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