Page 69 of Whiskey's Redemption

Carli

Circe is getting married, and Wyatt is beaming. She’s insanely happy, and I missed it all. Fuck. I wanted to be in LA to see and experience her joy firsthand. Nothing is worse than watching the best shot during the playoffs on replay. I just watched the rerun. You can’t imagine the pain of being late to the party.

Awful.

I never thought it would affect me so much, but it did. It actually screwed up my appetite. I mean, shit! The kitchen made our favorite foods and I only nibbled. And on top of that, I knew that Jamieson was eyeballing me every chance he got. He was damn near silent eating his Kobe steak. And even my sister, Miori, after her verbal toss up with China, didn’t try to stir up anything further during dinner. Thankfully, the conversations were minimal as we filled our bellies.

Well, I guess I’m filling two.

I haven’t started to feel like I’m carrying another human being, but I can’t deny it. The doctor’s checked at least three times because I made them, so it’s obviously true. And seeing the cause of my current situation sitting across from me at dinner, didn’t do anything for my sexual urges. My overdrive button has been stuck on rabbit speed. I’d love nothing more than to reach across the table, plant my hands in that dusky hair of his, and make him break me. I’d lay in the middle of his Kobe steak and grin gleefully as everyone watched.

But, I’m getting ahead of myself. He’s only here because I’m pregnant. I’m sure he wanted to see it for himself. He’s probably thinking of how to clear out of here and hit a mountain to find free pussy. Someone who’s not carrying his child.

The big surprise of the night was Kato, offering up evil eye shots to almost every Crown in attendance, except for China. Color me confused. For some reason, he hung from her words, gave acknowledgements to her questions, and even smiled the odd time. Actually smiled. I thought Kato had only intense scowls, even more intense gazes, and dark glares in his facial expressions. Huh.

Thing is, I don’t have enough energy to fight my sister’s, figure out Kato, and deal with Jamieson. I’m damn tired.

Pushing my plate aside, I announce quite loudly, “I’m bushed, guys. I need to sleep.” Rising to leave, giving Circe a hug goodnight, I start toward the hallway, in the hopes I’m not followed. I don’t have the power to explain, argue, or accept apologies right now.

Clearing the room in less strides than it takes to get to the front of a Starbucks line, I hit the stone floor of the hall. Only, I’m not the only one.

“Carli,” his deep manly voice calls out.

“Ya know, I was hoping to sleep. I wanted to avoid all the treacherous conversation that’s brewing in that head of yours for at least…oh, say, six hours? What do ya say, big fella? Give a girl a break for a bit of shut eye?” I don’t turn his way. In fact, I’ve kept walking the whole time toward my suite.

“Carli, look, we need to talk. You can’t avoid me in a hotel with no guests. Sooner or later, we have to see each other and talk about this.”

“Oh, I’m sure there’s ways I can, but I doubt you’ll let me. I have this feeling you’ll be camped outside my door, like you’re waiting to buy tickets to a Justin Bieberconcert.” Stepping up my game, I speed up a touch quicker to distance myself. “You loved his last show, didn’t you? Come on, admit it. His rendition of “Stairway to Heaven” with only a flute and a paperclip brought you to tears.”

“Where do you come up with this shit?” Moving up beside me, he gently takes my arm. “Jesus, Carli, slow down.” Stopping, I don’t dare turn to face him. I do that, and I might as well kiss my sleep bye-bye. I won’t get to sleep, he won’t get to sleep, and the only thing that might is the bean in my body.

“Carli, we have to talk at some point.”

I laugh. “I swear I saw this moment a hundred times over the past few months. You’d say something like, ‘Are you sure it’s mine?’ or ‘Did you consider an abortion?’ And the ever popular, ‘Ah, well, um and oh’ conversation.” I turn to face him, because I think my sarcasm is strong right now, and I can probably win this battle.Shit.Nope, shouldn’t have done that. It’s like looking the tiger in the eye., I should have just ran instead. That was dumb, Carli.

Thumbing his fingers along my jaw, holding my gaze with his, he smiles. “It’s good to see you, Katana.”

“Not like it matters, but why don’t you just tell me all the things I’m expecting and get it over with? I’ll return to my room, cry a tiny bit because of thesefreakin’hormones and the stressful day, then you can sit in yours and jerk off or fuck a cleaning girl. The choice is yours, and think of it as Vegas. What happens in Japan, stays in Japan.”

Staying quiet, listening to my verbal diarrhea, Jamieson just watches me without a sound. Moving a few stray hairs from my face, he tucks them behind my ear, then lightly pulls on my hair. I moan. It sounds awful that I fall for his moves so easily, and even to my own ears, it’s silly, but my body is easily swayed.

“Carli, I missed you. I have no intention of taking anything to bed but you, and I’ve jerked off so much lately, my left hand has strengthened considerably. Wanna see?” he jokes. Really? He jokes?

As his hands roams through my hair, across my shoulder and down my arm, I’m finding it hard to keep a clear head. I’m falling prey to him, and he more or less blinked. I try to gather the last shreds of my strength. “You don’t have to pretend. I get it, you have needs. Go play with something adorable. Tap the shit out of someone other than my sisters. You don’t need permission from me, Crown. Have at it.”

His once kidding look is strong, serious, and hard. “Katana, you don’t get it. It’s been a long few months without you. I haven’t been with anyone else. And all I’ve tried to figure out is how to get here, and get you into my bed.”

I’m listening, but not. It’s like the words he’s saying are being spoken under water. “Don’t let me stop you from hunting someone down.”

He scowls, which is something he does so well. “You’re not listening, are you, Carli?”

“If you mean, I hear the wah wah wah of the Peanuts teacher, then yeah. But if you mean actual syllables and consonants, no.”

Jamieson stares at me, not speaking. No grunting or growling, no awkward expressions that tell me what he’s thinking. Nothing at all.

“Okay, so we’re playing the concentration game now? I won’t blink. I should tell you, I’m amazing at this, Jamieson.”

Still nothing.

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