Page 124 of Jensen
The door creaks. I press one last kiss to his forehead, even though I know I could never hug and kiss him enough times to make up for everything. Then, I go out into the hall and let Leland shut the door. He’s dead silent, watching me from the corner of his eye. This is the part I’m scared of, when we figure out what happens between us at night.
“Leland,” I say, “I—”
“I think it’s better if you sleep in the guest room,” he says stiffly.
Relief washes over me, and I dip my head. “That’s fine.”
There’s a step below us, and I look over the railing to see Georgie. She comes upstairs with a stack of sheets in her arms. Our eyes meet. She dips her head and skirts around us, going to the guest room down the hall. I’m going to talk to her the second I can get away from Leland. I have a feeling that’s going to take longer than I imagined.
He stands in the doorway as Georgie gets me settled in. She leaves, hands folded over her stomach. Then, it’s just him and me. He clears his throat, hand on the doorknob.
“Was there anyone else?” he says finally.
“What?”
His eyes flash. “Did you fuck anyone after you left?”
A dozen images tumble through my head, but the one my brain settles on is the first night Jensen fucked me in the loft. Frantic hands, hips rising and falling, blood on my fingers, pain stinging up my arm. The heat—Lord, he’s pure hellfire, burning me up for the sin of wanting him so bad.
I shake my head. Leland’s shoulders sink.
“No,” I whisper. “There’s only been you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
JENSEN
Brothers leaves after dinner, taking two of his men. They’re lean, versatile types, like me. He’s got a particular kind of man he recruits to his team, the kind that fights hard and works well without rules. I have nothing to do but go to bed, so I return to my old room upstairs. This is what I imagine coming home as an adult to feel like. Everything is the same, even the sheets on the four poster bed.
I pour a bourbon and sink against the headboard.
I’m wishing I was back in Montana, where my past was locked behind bulletproof glass. But more than that, I wish Della was here, safe in my arms.
The moon is a pale sliver over the magnolia trees outside. It’s getting late. I empty my glass and set it aside, sliding to my back, but I can’t sleep. There are too many memories in this house. I toss and turn until almost three in the morning. People come and go, then things settle to silence.
I get up, pulling on a pair of sweats. Brothers had a maid leave me some clothes. Of course, they all fit perfectly. Then, I leave the room and wander like a ghost down the empty hallway. Downstairs, the kitchen is shut down. The dining room feels like a graveyard, chairs like markers in a row.
I lean my temple against the doorway.
I lost my innocence in this house at the hands of people older and more capable. Maybe that’s why it’s important to me that Della gets her boy back. I’ve never seen him, I might never put eyes on him, but he reminds me of myself.
I push off the doorway and circle around to the back staircase. There’s a faint sound from the door on the opposite side. It’s dark down there, but it leads up and around to the second floor. Curious, I move silently down past the open door. There’s a faint glow coming from inside. Tucked away in the shadows, I pause and look through the gap.
It’s Brothers’ office, I knew that. Half the desk is visible. Brothers sits on the edge, disheveled. The whole front of his Sunday shirt hangs open. He’s talking quietly, a glass in his fingers. There’s a disturbance, like someone getting up from a couch, and then the sound of heels on the floor. A woman in lingerie walks into view and goes to stand between his knees.
She says something, touching his jaw. He smiles and puts his hand on her waist, absently playing with her garter belt.
I’m taken aback by the way he’s gazing up at her. Is Brothers Boyd…human? There’s a softness to his face that only deepens when she leans in and kisses him, blocking my view with her dark curtain of hair.
That’s…Kayleigh Caudill.
If I bet on what kind of woman would have Brothers Boyd wrapped around her little finger, this one wouldn’t even make the list.
She’s everything I thought he resented. Lexington bourgeoisie—young, spray tanned, luxurious brown hair falling to the middle of her back, neon pink nails holding a crystal glass. Her lean body is curvy with a little waist, highlighted in full lingerie the same shade as her nails. I think I can see the Victoria’s Secret emblem in rhinestones right above her ass.
I shouldn’t be here, and yet, I can’t move.
My brain kicks into overdrive. Brothers said he wanted to topple the Caudill empire and take their territory a long time ago, but is it possible there’s something personal in this for him as well? I know he’d never admit to having feelings, but I’m not sure he has to say it out loud.
