Page 66 of Little Did You Know

"Why did you hit Justin?" Moonlight caught the steel in her eyes, her crossed arms a barrier between us.

"Because I'm addicted to her." My shoulders sagged as I leaned against her car, the metal still warm from her drive over. "I'm in love with her." The words felt like gravel in my throat, rough and painful and true. "I don't want to share her. I want her to be mine." I ran my hand over my face. "And now I have to decide whether or not to tell her that her brother is a piece of shit."

"What happened?" Kathryn asked.

"Emmett chose to gamble over his sister. Over himself."

"Nick." Kathryn's stance softened, her hand hovering near my arm without touching. "You have to tell her."

"If I tell her, she'll want to go back, and that's not an option." My fist clenched at my side, Justin's blood still crusted on my knuckles.

"If you don't and she finds out, she may never forgive you." She shifted closer, her perfume cutting through the night air.

"I would rather her hate me forever than let her go back and be put in danger." The words tasted bitter, but the alternative—Olivia back in that world of gambling and violence—was unthinkable. "I didn't protect her then, but I can now. I will die before I let anything happen to her."

"Danger?" Kathryn's face twisted with confusion.

"Emmett's mixed up with bad people." The words came out like broken glass. "They chopped off his right hand. The fire that could have killed Olivia was because of him." My palm pressed against the cool metal of her car.

"She's not suspicious that she hasn't heard from him?" Kathryn's fingernails tapped against her crossed arms, a nervous rhythm in the dark.

"No." A bitter laugh escaped me. "Apparently, that's pretty normal in their relationship. He disappears a lot."

"What are you going to do?" Her voice softened, concern replacing judgment.

"I don't know." My head dropped back against the car window, the thud matching my pulse.

"I don't know either." Kathryn settled against the car beside me, her shoulder barely touching mine in the kind of silent support only old friends can offer. "Maybe wait a few weeks and see if he comes to his senses."

"I think he'll end up dead before then." The words fell into the darkness like stones into a pond, rippling through the quiet night. Above us, clouds drifted across the moon, casting shifting shadows across my bruised knuckles.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Hannah dropped me off over an hour ago. I stood pacing outside Nick's bedroom door. The rules of our arrangement were beginning to get blurry. He'd said I could date other people, but it no longer felt like that was what he wanted, and I didn't think it was what I wanted either.

I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to clear this mess up, but I'd knocked several times, and he hadn't answered the door. I knew he was home, and the only place left for him to be was his bedroom. It could be he didn't want to talk to me, but that wasn't an option. We needed to redraw the boundaries we'd set or maybe even completely erase them.

He'd been avoiding me since our last hook-up in the closet, and I wasn't entirely sure why. Perhaps he had been trying to keep those lines clear.

Nicholas Pearson was a complicated man.

I knocked again, still with no answer. Grabbing the knob, I turned to find that the door was unlocked.

"Nick?" My whisper disappeared into the thick, humid air. Steam curled around the bathroom door frame like beckoning fingers, carrying the crisp scent of his soap—cedar and something sharper, maybe citrus. The rhythmic percussion of water against tile echoed off the walls, punctuated by the occasional squeak of wet feet against the floor. The carpet beneath my toes gave way to cool tile, each step forward raising the temperature another degree.

My hand trembled on the doorknob.

Walking away would be safer, smarter—but I was tired of playing it safe. If he pushed me away again, at least I'd know where we stood.

Steam filled the large bathroom as Nick stood under the water, eyes closed, vulnerable in a way he never allowed himself to be fully clothed.

Water traced paths down the planes of his back, following curves I'd memorized with my fingertips in darker rooms, in moments we never talked about after. His muscles shifted beneath golden skin as he moved, unaware of my presence—or pretending to be. With Nick, it was always hard to tell where the performance ended and truth began. I wanted him, yes, but more than that, I wanted the version of him that existed in these unguarded moments, before the walls came back up.

Slowly, I removed my clothes without making a sound. He didn't open his eyes until I stepped into the shower. He didn't say a word. He didn't move a muscle. Except for his large erection that grew longer and harder, letting me know he was as excited to see me as I was him.

Stepping up to him, I traced my fingertips over the curves of his defined muscles, slowly caressing down to grip his thickness. He sucked in a breath as my fingers tightened around him. I paused, waiting for him to stop me, but he didn't.

Stroking slowly, I knelt in front of him. I wanted to do this. I wanted to bring him the same pleasure he'd brought me. Keeping a grip at the base of his long, thick length, I slowly placed the mouth over the tip. He groaned, throwing his head back and thrusting his hips forward. Continuing to stroke faster and tighter, I rolled my tongue around him, savoring the taste. Looking up at him, his eyes locked on mine, dark and hungry.

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