by Lisa Cardiff
“I’m calling Derrick.”
“You don’t have to do it right now. It can wait until morning.”
“No.” I whipped my head back and forth. “I need to, otherwise I’ll chicken out. I don’t want him to hate me.”
This wasn’t the first time I wanted to bring this up with Derrick. But somehow the thought had never translated into an actual conversation.
He flashed a white smile. “He’s not going to hate you for suggesting it. Nobody could hate you.”
My eyebrows lifted. “I hope you’re right.” I didn’t want to lose my brother. I could count my family members on one hand. The thought of losing one of the three who were still part of my life made me sick to my stomach.
I pressed the green button to call him.
He squeezed my shoulder, his eyes boring into mine. “Do you want me to give you some space? I can go into the other room or wait in the lobby of my building.”
“No,” I rasped, listening to the first ring. “I need you to stay.”
“Hi, Trinity. What’s going on? I didn’t think I’d hear from you until Monday.”
“I have an idea I want to run by you,” I blurted out, my knee bouncing up and down.
I heard a door shut. “It’s getting late. Ellen and I just got home from a dinner party. Can it wait a couple of days?”
I shook my head. “No. It can’t. Some stuff has happened since the last time we talked.” He didn’t answer. “Derrick? Are you still there?”
“Yes.” He sighed. “What happened?”
Knox squeezed my neck lightly and nodded for me to continue.
I licked my lips. “When I got home after your party, my cat…” I closed my eyes and swallowed back the sob begging to surface. “Somebody killed my cat and left a threatening note, warning me to keep my silence.”
“I’m sorry, Trinity. Did you call the police?”
“No. I didn’t think it was a good idea for either of us.”
He blew out a long, drawn out breath. “That’s good. I’ll have some people look into it. I can have some people test the note for fingerprints and—”
“No. I’ll take care of it,” I interrupted. “That’s not why I called. I think…” I paused, taking time to get my words right. “I think we should consider coming clean.” I cleared my throat, hesitating to say anything else. His silence prompted me to continue. “I don’t know. We could make some announcement or do an interview so it’s controlled. I’m sure you have people who could spin the story to your advantage. We could focus on your effort to welcome me into the family instead of the affair.”
“You seriously want me to voluntarily air my family’s dirty laundry for everyone to comment on like we’re part of some trashy reality T.V. show? Do you even understand what this would do to my family? You might have been raised by a felon with no morals, but that’s not how I do things,” he said, his voice arctic. His cold words hit me like a slap to the face. I couldn’t speak for a second.
Derrick never indicated he knew much about my uncle, but apparently, he had done his homework. My uncle was arrested more than once in his late teens and early twenties, but he cleaned up his act after my mom disappeared. I have no doubt he walked on the wrong side of the law on occasion, but he worked as a car mechanic for as long I had known him. He may have been laid off from time to time, but he always found something.
“This isn’t just about your family. Your decisions affect me too. You may want to ride this to the end and deny everything, but I’m not going to put my friends and family in danger because you want to protect the Benton name.”
Sometimes you don’t know if you’ve made the right decision until after you’ve made it. And this was undeniably one of those times. His words made me think he never cared about protecting me.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” he said softly.
“Of course you meant it that way. You’ve told me countless times you didn’t want to turn the lives of your family upside down, but never once have you expressed any concern about how this has impacted me. You didn’t have to hunt me down or tell me the truth. You could’ve left me alone and no one would’ve known.”
“My dad asked me to find you.”
My mouth dropped open in shock. “What? You never told me that.”
“He’d just been diagnosed with cancer when he asked me to find you and make sure you were okay.”
I squeezed the phone, and Knox’s hands curled around my shoulders, but I couldn’t look at him. I knew he could hear the conversation and I didn’t want to see his reaction. I rubbed the dull ache inside of my chest.
“I don’t get it. Don’t you think that piece of information was important? Why didn’t you say anything before?” My voice sounded like I’d swallowed a mouthful of glass.
Derrick’s breathing turned heavy, then he sighed. “I couldn’t. Look, I realize this is a touchy subject for both of us. I think it’d be better if we had this conversation in person. I don’t want to fight with you.”
“Yeah. Okay. You’re probably right.” I was too shell-shocked to object, and part of me wanted to end this conversation as fast as possible so I could process everything. “But I still want you to consider what I said about coming clean.”
“I’ll text you on Monday and we’ll schedule a time to meet for lunch in the near future. We can talk about everything then.”
“Sure,” I said, my voice breaking mid-word.
I disconnected my phone and tossed it on the coffee table. Without saying a word, I stood and warily slipped past Knox. For some reason, knowing my biological father sent Derrick to find me hurt. I couldn’t help wondering if I missed out on an opportunity to meet him. Derrick never suggested it, but I didn’t know the details of his illness. He was diagnosed with brain cancer around the time Derrick found me and he died almost six months ago.
“Are you okay?” Knox asked, following me down the hall.
Instead of answering, I shook my head. I didn’t have anything to say and didn’t want to hear anything Knox might say just yet.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
“Where are you going?” Knox asked, his shoes clipping over the hardwood.
I opened the bathroom door. “I’m getting ready for bed. I’m beat. It’s been a long day.” With trembling hands, I dug through my cosmetic bag, searching for my brush.
He leaned his hip against the doorjamb. “Do you want to talk?”
I scoffed. “No. I think I’ll pass.” I couldn’t have a heart to heart right now. I’d lose my mind.
He sighed. “Let me help you.”
He grabbed the brush from my hand. With slow even strokes, he worked the bristles through my tangled hair. He grabbed an elastic band from the counter and arranged my hair into a ponytail.
“Who taught you how to brush a woman’s hair?” I asked, my gaze meeting his in the mirror.
“I used to do it for my mom when I was a kid.”
I smiled, imagining a miniature Knox combing his mom’s hair. “That was nice.”
“Not really. I had to do it for her when she was too drunk to do it herself.”
“Oh.” I frowned. “She was an alcoholic?”
“That and a lot of other not so good stuff.” He tossed the brush on the top of my bag. “I don’t want to talk about her.”
My heart squeezed. “I know how you feel. I hate talking about my mom. She was a great mom, but then one day she disappeared without a trace, and we never heard anything from her again.” I swallowed. “I don’t even know if she’s alive.”
He spun me around. “I’m sorry, Trinity. It must be hard wondering if she’s out there somewhere—”
I pressed my finger to his lips and shook my head. “I don’t want to talk about that either. Not tonight, anyway.”
He pulled me flush against his body. His warm soothing embrace made me feel like he could keep all the monsters away. “Agreed,” he murmured.
Lifting onto my tiptoes, I closed my
arms around his neck. Then he kissed me slowly, seducing me with his mouth, his lips, his teeth, and his tongue. I’d never been kissed with such committed focus. Within seconds, he had me convinced that nothing mattered in the world except that kiss. I gave myself up to it, following his lead and kissing him back with a single-minded intensity that quickly ignited into a frenzy.
I reached for his shirt, my fingers fumbling to shove the tiny buttons through the holes. He clamped his hand around my wrist and I felt his smile against my lips. “It’s not a race. We have all night,” he said, his voice deep and hypnotic.
He lifted me, wrapping my legs around his waist. I closed my eyes, relaxing into him. I pressed my lips to his neck, and he groaned. He shifted me closer to him, eliminating every suggestion of space.
My back hit the mattress, and he moved over me. He caught my hands in one of his, holding them above my head. His tongue glided against mine, tamer now than in the bathroom. My heart knocked against my breastbone, eagerly awaiting his next move.
He reached under the hem of my dress, his warm hands clashing with my icy skin, setting me on fire one brush of his fingers at a time. I was so distracted by his touch, my mind barely registered the moment he slid my dress over my head.
I snuck a hand between our bodies and palmed him through his black pants, needing evidence I affected him as much as he affected me. He groaned as I circled the outline of his erection, his eyes squeezing closed.
“Jesus, Trinity.” His voice was rough and needy, and a shiver rippled through my body.
He ripped his shirt over his head. I worked open his belt, then his button and zipper, needing to touch every inch of him. He pushed my hands away, shoving his pants and boxer briefs down his legs. He certainly wasn’t a stranger to the gym. His chest bulged in all the right places. Unable to stop myself, my fingertips drifted over the silky expanse of his chest. Everything about him was sexy; too sexy. The narrowing of his waist tempted my hands to move lower, but he captured my hands in his again.
“You’re moving too fast again,” he whispered against my neck.
“But I want to touch you.”
He chuckled, his warm breath sending goose bumps spiraling down my arms. “Hold on to the headboard,” he said, curling one of my hands, then the other around the wooden slats above the bed. “I want to touch every part of you.”
His fingers skimmed the column of my throat to my collarbone. He pushed down one bra strap, then the other. He reached behind me and unclasped my bra, unwrapping me like a present on Christmas morning. A low hum of pleasure pulsed through my veins.
“I like this one. Red looks good against your skin, but I like them better on the floor.” He dangled it from his finger and flung it across the room. We watched it fall to the ground. “The same goes for these,” he whispered, sliding off the matching panties.
He kissed his way down my body, exploring every curve and indentation with his mouth and his hands. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t talk. I was his willing prisoner.
Parting my knees, he kneeled between them. “You know what my first thought was when you stormed into Lang’s study with your gun drawn?”
“No.” My voice was raspy. Needy. I thought I was going to spontaneously combust if he didn’t move this forward.
He ducked his head, pressing his lips to the inside of my thigh while his fingers slid against my sex. Wet sounds mingled with my panting breaths. My world narrowed to those to two points of contact, my body vibrating and my teeth chattering.
“I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.” He lifted his head, his gaze searing into me. “And I still think you are.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but the words got caught in my throat when his finger circled my clit.
“I wanted to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of there,” he said, his lips painting a line from my leg to my core.
“Knox,” I mumbled, but it sounded more like a whimper than a word.
“Would you have let me?” he asked.
“God, yes.” My hips bowed and my sex clenched greedily for more.
He ran his tongue along my entrance in one decadent lick that made my head spin. Then he pulled my clit into his mouth, sucking tenderly. My head rolled to the side accompanied by a long drawn out moan. Lacking the strength to keep my eyes open, they fluttered closed, the muscles in my thighs trembling. Meaningless syllables spilled from my lips. I buried my hands in his hair, moving against him as my insides coiled tighter and tighter with every swipe of his tongue. Then he added a finger. Maybe two. I didn’t know. I was beyond caring. One delicious swirl, and I shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.
Instead of rolling off me, his mouth explored his way up my body, showering me with hot and wet kisses.
My navel.
My breasts.
My neck.
Behind my ear.
By the time he reached my mouth, he had somehow put on a condom. He clamped his hands around the bottom of my ribcage and pinned my hips against the mattress. In one skilled thrust, he pushed a few inches inside of me, his eyes never leaving mine. I rocked my hips, but he held me steady, refusing to move until he was ready.
Dipping his head, he pulled my nipple into his mouth, caressing the aching bud, and a little mewl of surprise slipped from my parted lips. My heart pounded so hard it felt as if it would fly out of my chest any second. I rubbed my hands up and down the backs of his legs, feeling his solid, ropey muscles beneath the coarseness of his hair.
I arched, pushing him deeper inside of me. I couldn’t get enough. He moved with controlled little thrusts that ignited spasms of devastatingly intense pleasure. My body stiffened, already straining for a second release.
Sweat beaded on his brow. “So good, Trinity. So good. You’re perfect for me.” His voice was lazy with desire.
My heart squeezed both in pleasure and terror because his words echoed the ones bouncing around in my head. “I know. I know.”
He slid in and out, hitting the perfect spot, coaxing a shuddering moan from my lips. I dug my fingernails into his hips, urging him without words to move faster. Harder. He did exactly that.
Our skin slapping.
Our moans tangling.
Our hands exploring.
Our mouths colliding.
It shouldn’t have been so easy to bring me back to the brink again, but within seconds, ecstasy washed over me. I cried out with the force of my release, my body arching and trembling beneath his. My entire body tingled, my nerves fizzing. My lips were numb, and all of it went on and on.
My spasms were still rippling through me when his started. He bucked into me, his head thrown back and his neck corded as he shook and pulsed. A low groan rumbled up from his chest, punctuated with one fierce pump of his pelvis. He collapsed on me, unmoving, his heart thundering against mine. Good God, I was officially addicted to him.
Finally, he raised his head, his hands bracketing the sides of my head, and he stared at me with lucid, thoughtful eyes. “You okay? Was that okay?” he asked, his voice earthy and full of gravel.
“Better than okay,” I whispered, uncertainty lacing my words.
Knox’s lips glided across mine, and our sweaty skin suctioned together. “I meant what I said.”
I smiled as he peeled his body off me, tucking his head next to my neck. Clinging to the moment, I hooked my arm around his body, listening to the tangled thuds of our hearts and the soft whispers of our exhalations.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Knox
“Where are you headed?” Trinity asked as she poured water into my coffee maker.
“For a run. Do you want to join me?” The minute the words escaped my mouth, I regretted them. After last night, I needed space and time to clear my head so I could concentrate on my work instead of all the conflicted feelings for Trinity vying for attention inside my head.
Just thinking about it, forced the remnants of panic to the
surface.
“Sure.” She pressed the on button for the coffee maker and gurgling noises floated through the kitchen. “But we need to stop at my house first. I don’t have sneakers here.”
My gaze swept down her gray t-shirt and black yoga pants, drinking her in. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah.” She rolled a rubber band off her wrist and pulled her hair into a messy ponytail on top of her head. “I’ll drink my coffee in the car.” She pointed to the twin blue mugs on the white quartz countertop. “Do you want some?”
I crouched down to tie my shoes. “Nah. I’m good.”
The minute I stepped over the threshold of Trinity’s townhome, I took a reluctant, tentative sniff of the air. Dryness, dust, and the lingering odor of burnt coffee curled into my nose. I flipped on the light, and a pained hiss escaped Trinity’s mouth.
My feet were rooted to the floor as I surveyed the scene in front of me. “Fuck. Wait right here,” I ordered, without bothering to turn around to see if she listened.
The soles of my shoes crushed over broken glass, coating the floor like confetti. Deep gashes marred every cushion of her once sleek gray sofa. The kitchen chairs were turned upside down creating an unintentional obstacle course. Light spilled from the open refrigerator door. Food was strewn all over the floor.
I picked up a knife and made my way to her bedroom. It wasn’t my weapon of choice. If the person who did this were lurking somewhere in the shadows with a gun, I’d be fucked. I couldn’t count the number of times I had chastised Archer for failing to carry a gun at all times, and now I was guilty of the same damn mistake.
The bedroom and bathroom didn’t fair any better than the rest of her house. The drawers were ripped out of the dresser. Clothes tangled with the bedding on the floor, covering the hardwood with splashes of color. The mattress rested on its side against the white bed frame.
“Oh my God,” Trinity whispered behind me.
I spun around. “I told you to stay put.”
Tears streamed from her red-rimmed eyes. Her hands trembled as she pulled at the hem of her shirt, stretching it to the middle of her thighs. “I know, but I couldn’t just stand there. I had to see the damage for myself.”
