Beautiful Sins (The Enemies Trilogy Book 2)

by Piper Lawson

  “I guess I’m protective,” my cousin goes on. “This guy dates models and buys clubs and owns yachts—“

  “He charters yachts.”

  “—and you’re my cousin. We used to watch South Park and make fun of the preppy snobs and talk about how much better life would be when we didn’t have to deal with those people.”

  “We’re having fun,” I insist, although my heart beats faster. “I’m not marrying him.”

  Even if he intended to go there again with a woman, it would probably take the rest of her life just to read the prenup.

  Callie nods after a moment. “Speaking of weddings...I’m still surprised you didn’t open up to Kian back then.”

  My fingers tighten, and I drop my donut. “Motherfucker.”

  “Sorry.”

  I pick it up and toss it in a nearby trash can. “Kian wouldn’t have wanted me to tell him what happened. He’d only feel like shit about it.”

  The past dredges up feelings of weakness, of powerlessness, and the people who never noticed.

  “Maybe he should feel like shit about it.” I shake my head. “I know I was giving you a hard time about Harrison, because I can’t see you with a guy like that. But if you don’t let anyone in, you forget how. It’s a different kind of pain. A slow one, a subtle one.”

  I squint into the sun. “You know what’ll be a slow, subtle pain? Watching Kian deliver a romantic speech at the wedding.”

  Callie’s laugh almost makes me forget her words.

  Harrison: Need your take on some new equipment.

  His text is imperious, but since I agreed to play opening night in exchange for an exorbitant fee, it makes sense I’d do it.

  So, it’s before noon the next day when I head to Burbank.

  Despite the dozen trucks in the lot, when I head in the side doors, only a handful of tradespeople are working. There’s no sign of Harrison or Leni—until a roar goes up from the office, the door half open. I head that way and see nearly twenty people gathered around a television screen.

  “Wrong time of year for an Oscar party,” I comment.

  Harrison crosses to me, doing a slow, thorough sweep of my figure. “It’s Ash’s first match of the year. They refused to keep working once I put it on, and I don’t have the heart to kick them out. You’re out of bed before noon. Are you unwell?”

  His firm mouth tips up at the corner, and I shake my head at his mocking expression.

  “I’m fine.”

  It’s not entirely true. Since talking with Callie about the wedding, I’ve been spinning over the idea of confronting my past there and what she said about letting people in.

  A roar goes up again, and I snap my gaze to the screen. “Who scored?”

  “No one,” Leni comments. “It was close though.”

  “That’s the noise you make when someone almost scores?”

  Harrison chuckles, and Leni offers a wry smile. Though I’m not a sports fan, I can tell Ash is really fucking good. He moves the ball easily up the field, passing effortlessly.

  “Where’s this equipment?”

  Harrison brushes a thumb down my cheek before I can stop him. “I’ll show you tonight over dinner.”

  I look around the room. “I thought you wanted me to come look at gear on-site.”

  “The equipment will be custom order, Raegan,” he says as if I’m being deliberately slow. “You inferred I meant here.”

  “You say jump and I say how high?” I return his stare because, dammit, he could’ve sent me a link rather than waiting for me to drag my ass down here.

  Harrison tugs me to the back of the room. “Let me be clear. I enjoy you. Naked and under me, but all the other ways too. I won’t apologize for wanting to see you.”

  “Being seen together in LA is serious, Harrison.”

  “Then maybe I’m serious.”

  His smoldering blue eyes pin me in place, but it’s his earnest tone that leaves me speechless.

  Images of TMZ and ET articles splash through my mind. People speculating exactly why we’re together. The career I’m trying to build being subordinated to an online dialogue about whether it’s a hot affair or whether we’re in love. Who I am reduced to a ranking on the “Most Unexpected Couples” list.

  I turn away, shoving a hand through my hair before stepping out of the office. He follows, pulling the door after him.

  “Whatever you think you want,” I say, “it isn’t that. Maybe it’s companionship. Someone to share your bed who also has your back—“

  “Just go the fuck out with me, Raegan.”

  My chest tightens. There’s a question I’ve been needing to ask, but one that exposes me more that I can stand. “Why me?”

  If I expect him to hesitate, he doesn’t. “Because under the layers of doubt and questions, you’re a woman who knows what she wants and how to get it. The day you see it, I want to be there.”

  Would it be so bad to fall for Harrison King?

  Would he even be there to catch me if I did?

  A roar goes up from the other side of the door, and Harrison leans in.

  “Now someone scored,” Leni calls.

  I poke my head in too, and my gaze finds Ash on the screen, a huge grin on his face as teammates carry him up the field.

  Something nudges my foot, and I glance down to see Harrison’s dress shoe leaning against my sandal.

  “What’s with the heels?” he murmurs.

  “I’m breaking them in to wear for my brother’s wedding next month.”

  His gaze sharpens. “I’m partial to weddings. We met at one, if you recall.”

  “I chewed you out.”

  “I loved every second of it.”

  Part of me blooms, a tiny flower in my chest that’s never dared look for the light.

  “Wear those tonight when I take you for dinner. I want to fuck you in them.” He brushes his lips over mine, and heat streaks straight to my core, settling into a low ache between my thighs.

  “Dinner doesn’t lead to sex,” I say when he pulls back.

  “I would never make such a basic assumption about two people as complicated as we are, Raegan.”

  “Good.”

  His gaze traces my lips, the same path his mouth just did. “But dinner will lead to fighting. And fighting will lead to sex.”

  10

  Harrison

  I’ve never found a deal as challenging as the woman sitting in the passenger seat of my car.

  “Leni sent me specs, but I must be reading them wrong. All the industry standards are sold out?”

  “Correct.”

  “But if you don’t get the best, you’ll lose talent,” she finishes. “DJs won’t want to play.”

  “It’ll take another three months to get the standard installed. The cost in lost revenues is too high. Do you know how much a club like that will make every night it’s open?”

  “It’ll hold two thousand people. Cover, drinks…” She runs through multiple facets of my business and drops a number at the end that’s startlingly accurate.

  I nearly groan.

  Listening to her talk business is sexy.

  Which is fucked up because we’re talking about how screwed my club is.

  “I need to make this work,” I mutter. “I will force my way up the supplier list. Find a pressure point and press on it. Whatever Leni did, I’ll double down.”

  “Come on, you didn’t ask me to weigh in because you wanted an audience to how you’ll go all ‘tough guy.’ We need to get creative.”

  I glance at her as we stop at a light. “This isn’t MacGyver. I can’t use a roll of duct tape and some toilet paper rolls to make a sound system for a high-end venue.”

  “But venues used other setups before this one was available,” she argues. “Hell, you have others in your clubs.”

  She runs through them while I listen.

  Rae is making it difficult to focus. Tonight, she’s dressed in the heels from earlier, plus ripped jeans that hug e
very curve of her legs and hips, a black T-shirt, and oversized sunglasses. She could be a student going to class at UCLA, her hair pulled back in a high ponytail that tickles the headrest of the car when she turns to look at me.

  I stare out the windshield as I navigate traffic, but all I’m picturing is twisting that hair around my hand while she comes on my cock.

  “What about Blaze?”

  I blink. “What’s Blaze?”

  “The club in Venice Beach. It closed not too long ago, and I heard it’s getting sold off and converted into stores.”

  “You think there’s a chance of getting their audio equipment.”

  “Has to go somewhere.” She shrugs. “I could ask.”

  “Thank you.” I read far too much into the fact that she’s offering.

  She’s smart and beautiful. My own damn kryptonite.

  It’ll be easier when we get to the exclusive beachfront restaurant. A white linen tablecloth between us will keep me civilized.

  When we arrive, there’s no sign of the valet. I curse, and we park half a dozen blocks away.

  “It’s fine,” Rae says. “Let’s walk on the beach.”

  Most women I’ve dated would have pouted at having to walk, but she sounds as if she prefers it.

  “Coming around to the idea of being seen with me?” I murmur as I hold her door.

  “There are worse things.”

  “When was the last time a man you fucked, or wanted to, took you out for dinner?”

  Rae considers as she starts down the sidewalk next to me. I get the feeling she’s weighing something bigger than an offhand comment.

  “Never.”

  It’s my turn to be stunned.

  “That would require someone to ask me,” she goes on, “and for me to say yes.”

  “Endless complexity,” I say dryly, but I’m fascinated. “Let’s start simple. You tell me what’s bothering you. I fix it, or use noncommittal male vocalizations to empathize.”

  She laughs, and the sound pleases me long after her smile fades once more. “I approached Wild Fest about a spot next spring. One of the recruiters is coming to my show next weekend in Long Beach. It would be a huge deal. They’ve never had a DJ headline who wasn’t in the top twenty of Billboard’s Top 100 DJ list.”

  We start down the concrete steps to the beach.

  “I’ve met the cofounders. I could—”

  “Don’t you dare intervene for me,” she says. “I need to do this on my own.”

  “Even if it was partly my fault your career was hindered? For the record, I don’t feel an ounce of guilt,” I go on. “The media will watch you and judge you as if it’s their job. Your job is to live your life.”

  I take the last three steps to the beach as Raegan pauses to pull off her heels. When she straightens, I take advantage of her busy hands to lift her by the waist and set her on the sand in front of me. She’s close enough her body brushes mine through our clothes.

  “Just because you can do something yourself doesn’t mean you should.” I skim my hand around to her ass and squeeze lightly. She sways closer, and I bend my lips to her ear. “Goes for all manner of things, love.”

  When I step back, her eyes are nearly black.

  We’re surrounded by people, but I wish we were alone.

  I want to run my fingers down between her legs, see if she’s wet.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she murmurs.

  With every taste of her, I only want more.

  It’s startling and unnerving.

  Rae’s attention drifts past me, and I turn to see a food stand, half a dozen patrons clad in swimming trunks and casual wear waiting to order. I want to recoil on instinct, but she doesn’t look away.

  Fuck me.

  “You want tacos.” The three words land heavy in my gut.

  “No.” Rae turns back, pasting on a quick, false smile I never want to see again. “The restaurant is fine.”

  I’ve never been with a woman who didn’t want the most elegant things I could give her. Rae’s differences are challenging to understand, but I want to try.

  That’s why I pull out my phone.

  “What are you doing?” she demands.

  “Texting the concierge to cancel.” When I’m done, I hold out a hand for her shoes. “If we’re going to eat at a restaurant with a queue, at least I can carry these for you like a gentleman.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “Too damn bad.”

  She hands them over, but the wry shake of her head has me frowning as we take our spot at the end of the queue.

  What is she saying—no one’s ever been a gentleman with her?

  Fuck.

  “No more shop talk tonight,” I decide, and she arches a brow.

  “That a rule?”

  “Yes. Besides, you might have already solved the equipment problem.”

  She grins, and I can’t help but return it.

  I want to show her something different.

  We order tacos and find a spot to sit on the beach. Before Rae can sit, I spot a beach hut where I can purchase a towel embroidered with crabs so we can eat without getting sand in our food. Ash would piss himself laughing if he could see me now. We talk about all kinds of things.

  “Most embarrassing moment?” I ask.

  “A show in New York during arts school. I was mixing from my notebook, and it tried to run an update installation midcycle.”

  I laugh silently.

  “What about you? I have a hard time picturing you embarrassed.”

  “Fuck, there are loads,” I insist, scanning my memories. “Oh. Initiation the first year of boarding school, we were at the beach, and some other boys stole my swimsuit. I had to walk back to the dorms with a piece of food wrap”—I hold up the paper from my taco—“to cover myself and explain to the headmaster why I was out without a uniform.”

  Her shoulders rock with laughter. The humiliation was worth it for this one moment.

  “Favorite TV show?” she asks once she’s recovered.

  “Great British Bake Off.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Am not,” I insist. “And if you so much as think of telling another human, you won’t live long enough to do it. What’s yours?”

  “South Park.”

  I shake my head. “Unbelievable.”

  “That I like a cartoon?”

  “Mhmm.”

  No. That I’m falling for a woman who likes a cartoon. I finish my taco, mostly managing to avoid dropping coleslaw on the sand.

  “Proudest moment?” she asks me.

  I don’t have to think about it. “I’ve bought my share of venues, but I was twenty-five when I opened the first one I built from scratch. The moment we turned on the sign and those lights lit up the night, I swear I could feel my parents watching me. It was the first time I felt as if I was doing the right thing.”

  Rae studies me without blinking. “Well, that’s intense. What was it called?”

  “Brillante.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t name it something more personal.”

  “It never occurred to me,” I say honestly. “Would you have? You never stay in one place long enough for anything to become personal.”

  “If it was a building, brick and mortar… I think I would.”

  I turn that over before asking my next question. “Most awkward sexual encounter?”

  Rae knocks over her drink with a knee, cursing as she rights it. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  So, I change the subject, but I’m still wondering why that simple question threw off our conversation.

  “I’ve never been to the beach in LA,” I admit as I reach for the mineral water I bought.

  “Seriously? How many times have you come here?”

  “Dozens.”

  “Huh. I’m glad I can give you a first.”

  I reach a hand out to lift her chin. Then I lean in and brush my lips across hers.

  She tastes like
her soda, and I want to drink her dry. I want to lay her back on this towel and strip off her clothes and show her how fucking exquisite she is.

  Instead, I allow her to finish her dinner before I walk her back to the car.

  “Aren’t we going back to your place?” she asks when I drive us away from my side of the city.

  “No.”

  She looks over in surprise. “Why not?”

  I’m torn between a laugh and a groan. “You’ve never had a gentleman. I wanted to give you a first too.”

  Her eyes soften in the twilight, and I grab onto that as my hands clench the steering wheel. She flicks on the radio, humming to the music as we drive.

  I’ve never had someone I can coexist with. But her, right here… it feels surprisingly right.

  Except for the blood diverted below my belt at the sound of her voice or any time I glance at her.

  When I pull up to Beck’s gates and put the car in park, she turns to face me.

  “You can come in. But you can’t stay ov—“

  “No.”

  She blinks at me in surprise.

  Her palm slides down my chest, rubbing across my erection through my pants. My body leaps under her touch. “You still want to be a gentleman?”

  She’s teasing me. I like seeing her empowered.

  No.

  “Yes.”

  Her hand threads through mine as she tugs me toward her.

  I follow her lead, mostly because I have no idea what she’s planning.

  When she works open the button and fly of her jeans and slides my hand inside, I swallow my tongue.

  She’s slick and ready for anything I might wish to do to her. Knowing she was getting turned on by our conversation, by simply spending time together, blows my mind.

  I rub a slow circle over her clit beneath her underwear, and her eyelids fall to half-mast as she arches against my touch.

  “I want to see you tomorrow,” I mutter.

  Rae squirms, a noise of tortured pleasure escaping her lips before she answers, “No.”