Page 13 of Tell Me

And no, before you ask, I didn’t have a damn clue what I was doing. I hadn’t thought about wanting to kiss her. I’d been watching her think through what was happening, the ideas showing right through her skin as she had them, and I’d been following along with them. The kiss behind the library when we were just kids. Watching each other warily whenever we were in the same area. Seeing the wind blow through her blond hair and wondering what it would be like to run my fingers across it. The dance of light on her cheekbones.

The intelligence in her eyes.

I’d never been able to keep my own eyes off her, and when our fathers called us into that meeting when we were only eighteen and told us they’d brokered a deal, and that we were the pawns being moved on the board...

I should have been furious at being used that way, and a part of me was. But a much larger part of me could only see one thing: Brooklyn Landry within my grasp. Her eyes had shot to mine, big and scared and yet...

Excited. I’d known it just as well as she had. We’d been meant for each other, and we’d just had to wait for our fathers to figure it out.

I dove into her now, walking her backward and slamming her against the wall as I devoured her mouth. She was sweet and salty at the same time, all teeth and snarls and those lush, perfect lips. And she was opening up for me the way she always had, from the first time I’d kissed her. Tilting her head to welcome me in and running her hands up my chest, nails clawing at me. I heard throats clearing around us and remembered too late that many of my men were here watching—along with Camille Landry—but I didn’t give a single fuck.

I had Brooks back under my fingers, and I meant to reclaim her, no matter who was watching. This was my girl. She’d been mine before I laid a hand on her, and once my father gave her to me I’d laid all my fingers—and more—all over her. I brought her down to these very catacombs on that first night, ravenous for her, and though she’d played coy at first, it hadn’t taken long before she was stripping for me, her skin glowing in the candlelight of the tunnels and her eyes coming up to meet mine as I...

Her teeth suddenly came down on my lower lip, bringing me right back into the present, and I reared back, eyes narrowed. Her gaze met mine, challenging, and I saw the smirk cross her lips moments before she grabbed the back of my head and brought my mouth crushing back down on hers.

A growl started low in my throat at the aggression of it and I pressed harder against her, pinning her to the wall with my hips. The Brooks I’d known would never have pulled something like that, but this new Brooks...

I liked how she’d grown up. Fucking loved the red hair on her, and what it did to her skin and eyes. This wasn’t the girl I’d known my entire life, and it certainly wasn’t the girl who’d handed me her virginity. Except that it was. It was just a lusher, more grownup version of her.

I ripped my mouth from hers and kissed my way to her ear, savoring the flavor of her. “New York has done you good, girl,” I muttered.

“You have no idea,” she gasped, her nails raking through my hair.

The gasp and rocking of her hips went straight to my blood and I almost screamed with the need building between my legs. I hadn’t seen Brooks in ten years, but it felt like it had only been moments. My skin remembered the feel of her skin and my hands had molded themselves around her ass, fingers moving to hold her the way I knew she liked. My body was responding to her like we’d never been apart and I was already struggling to remember why she left. One moment she’d been riding me, her face tilted to the sky and my name on her lips, and the next...

The next day she’d been asking me if I had any idea what our fathers were up to and looking at me with suspicion when I said no. Hours later, she’d been running for New York, and I hadn’t seen or heard from her since.

She never told me why she left. Never gave me a chance to beg her not to go.

And now she was back.

I pulled away again, my head suddenly cooling at the memory and telling me I needed to slow down. Because this wasn’t the girl I’d courted in these tunnels when we were eighteen. She’d run from me before we had a chance to marry and learn each other, and she’d spent the last ten years in New York doing God knew what.

She might feel like the Brooks I’d known.

But New York’s Brooks was standing between me and the girl I almost married. And I couldn’t let my body forget that. I was the Boudreaux heir and a man of power down here in New Orleans.

I didn’t let random girls come into my catacombs and climb under my skin without a good reason.

“What are you doing here, Brooks?” I asked quietly, my voice laden with both lust and something a whole lot more suspicious. “Because I’m pretty sure you didn’t come just to see me.”

She blinked twice, trying to adjust to the sudden change of tempo, and opened her mouth to say something. A lie? I wondered. Had she come with a story prepared, some way to convince me to do whatever it was she wanted? But why? After ten years, why would she come down here and?—

Her gaze shot suddenly over my shoulder and darkened, and that was the only warning I had before pain exploded through my left shoulder.

11

BROOKS

I grabbed Lucien and hit the ground rolling, pulling him after me as I went. We both came to a crouch against the nearest pillar like we’d fucking practiced this for years, and took a breath. When I looked over, he was already glancing around the pillar, his body tucked into the stone for protection.

I didn’t have to ask what he saw. I’d blinked when he turned away from me, confused at the sudden loss of his warmth, and then noticed movement in the doorway to the crypt we were in. Men rushing through the door. Lucien’s own men whirling toward them, their hands on their guns and surprise on their faces. And I’d known what it meant: invaders. Unexpected visitors.

The shots ringing through the space now told me that they hadn’t come on friendly terms, either.

Lucien jerked his head back toward me, taking cover as another volley of shots rang out, and I throttled my mind back into the present. Right. Men in the room with us who had guns and were shooting. I didn’t know who they were or what the fuck they wanted but that didn’t really matter. I had friends and loved ones in this room—not only Lucien but also Camille, who could handle a gun didn’t generally carry one unless she knew we were about to get into trouble.

We hadn’t known that when we left the house. I was guessing she’d come unarmed.

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