Page 50 of Daddies' Little Troublemaker

Still glaring at Evelyn, Lincoln says, “Evelyn and I just fucked in her bedroom, and Mark called right after. And our little liar here pretended nothing happened between us.”

Evelyn points at Lincoln, the tip of her finger hovering over his heart. “You told me he must never know. You said that.”

Not backing down, Lincoln says, “I changed my mind because we fucked again, Evelyn. Either we’re in this or we’re not.”

She shakes her head, steps back, looks away. “Then we’re not.”

I hold my breath. The entire room goes still. It’s so quiet, I can hear the hum of the refrigerator from the next room.

Evelyn’s body is rigid with tension, her shoulders back, fists clenched at her sides. And her beautiful blue eyes are shiny with tears.

“What are you saying, Evelyn?” Lincoln asks, his voice quiet. “Spell it out for us, please.”

“I…I guess what I’m saying is we should stop messing around,” she finally says.

I take a step forward—I don’t want this to be true. We were building something good. Kinky, yes. Hot, yes. But there was affection there, too…a higher meaning, I guess.

Lincoln just looks at her.

“You’re serious about this?” I say, stopping before I reach her.

She nods.

Damn. It kinda hurts. But I shrug. “Whatever you want, doll.”

* * *

Lincoln

I must be fucking insane. I wanted to tell Mark. I still do, to be honest. It’s always been impossible to keep secrets from him. When I was a teenager and learning how dominant I truly was, I spent a lot of time worrying that I was some kind of predator. I was filled with fear and self-loathing. Mark could tell something was wrong and he got me to open up about it. He reassured me it’s a kink and as long as all parties are safe, sane, and consenting, I wasn’t a predator.

Sometimes I think my brother saved my life.

And that’s why I don’t want to keep this from him.

But if Evelyn’s putting a stop to all of it, there’s no “this” to tell him. So, whatever, I guess. I’m not going to let it bother me.

Evelyn has no idea, but she broke Caleb’s heart. He’ll be fine—he bounces back—but I can tell he’s disappointed. He had all those ideas about “fate throwing us back together” and shit like that, but what life comes down to is sometimes things happen just because they happen. Not because they’re part of some grand plan. If fate is a thing, it’s fickle as fuck.

* * *

Caleb

My tablet is resting on a pillow in front of me. The house is quiet. Lincoln’s gone tonight—there was a hiccup in Nevada at a remodel we managed, so he drove out with the plan to stay the night.

I think he was glad for the excuse to get away. Living with Evelyn and not being able to touch her? It’s a special kind of torture. He can hide his feelings somewhat, but I know he’s still pissed off that Evelyn doesn’t want to confess everything to her dad.

I’m not pissed…I’m disappointed. I think it’s too soon to call things off, and yeah, it is torture living here with her and not being able to fuck around.

I could leave, too. The big conference in San Esteban that prompted me to stay here instead of in a hotel is over by now. But the thing is, I don’t want to give up hope. I told Lincoln I’m staying because Mark’s place is more comfortable than any hotel could be.

But really, it’s because I want to be closer to little Evie.

Three days have gone by since she told us she wanted to stop fucking. I feel like we had barely started, so it shouldn’t matter this much. Maybe it doesn’t matter to her, but to me, it was more than fucking.

Footsteps shuffle from down the hall. The clock on my tablet tells me it’s half past midnight. I wonder why Evelyn is up—she’s usually an early-to-bed, early-to-rise girl. I listen for sounds of her on the stairs because she’s probably going down to the kitchen for a glass of water or something.

But instead, she approaches my room.

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