Текст книги "S.O.B. "

Автор книги: J. C. Valentine

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

30

I’ve been trying to call Vista for a week, but she won’t pick up the damn phone. I know why she’s not answering—she saw the news. She saw me with Calista.

              The media are a bunch of savage dickheads with nothing better to do than to try and tear people down. Now it’s more bullshit and more fires I have to put out. They saw her and me together and assumed we were an item.

That couldn’t be further from the truth.

Calista and I are…well, I wouldn’t call us friends exactly. More like two ships passing in the night. We’d hook up whenever we happened to be in the same city at the same time. It wasn’t anything more than that, and we were both cool with it. But all that’s over now.

So even though we’re not friends, we’re also not enemies.

I was doing an appearance at Boulevard3 when I ran into her. We shared a couple drinks and talked a bit, caught up. We ended up getting pretty deep. I confided in her about Vista and the baby, and she told me that I was fucking up a good thing. I informed her that Vista was the one who told me not to come back, and she quickly reminded me that she also said not to leave. I’ll never figure women out. They say one thing and mean another. In the long run, though, she helped me open my eyes to what an asshole I’ve been, and now I think I can finally see where Vista is coming from.

She was testing me, and I failed. Miserably.

I was pissed off at her for shutting me down. No one, aside from my father, has ever told me to get my head out of my ass and be a man. Which, I guess, is why I took it so wrong. Vista reminded me of my father, harping in my ear, and I resented her for it.

When I left, I had convinced myself that I was doing what was best for her and the baby. With me out of the picture, they could be normal. But that’s not the case. They’re no safer from the media than I am. If anything, they’re even more vulnerable. At least I can outrun it. All it takes is hopping on a plane.

I’ve been telling her and myself that I’m working my way back to her, all I need to do is tie up some loose ends, make good on my commitments so I can come home. But the truth is, that’s not what I’ve been doing at all.

Talking with Calista has opened my eyes wide. She made me see that what I’ve really been doing is running. All this time, I’ve been the dickhole who’s ruining Vista’s life.

Even my father, bastard that he is, had enough of a moral compass to stick around and raise me.

I send one more call through, begging Vista in my mind to pick up the damn phone. Now that my blinders are off, it feels as if the distance is eating me alive. Every second that passes, it’s as if I can literally feel myself losing her.

I can’t fucking lose her.

Vista is the only real thing I’ve ever had in my life. She’s the only person who’s ever taken the time to really get to know me and accepted me for who I am, warts and all, something my own parents couldn’t manage to do.

With her, I have a family, and I refuse to let it go without a fight.

“Three minute warning.”

I glance up at the stagehand or whatever he is and nod. I’m doing another fucking interview. This one is for Jimmy Kimmel. It used to be that I would blow a gasket, I was so excited to do shit like this. This time, nothing. It’s like I’m on autopilot. None of this registers. I’m just going through the motions, blindly following instructions as they’re dished out.

It’s Kimmel for crissake! I should be a nervous wreck, and instead, I’m thinking about ditching out and jumping on the first plane back to Ohio. Vista is taking up every thought in my head. I just need her to pick up the phone so I can explain. I need her to know that I choose her. I need her to know that I love her and I haven’t given up on us.

“Mr. Black,” the stagehand hisses as if this isn’t the first time he’s called my name, “you’re on.”

Standing, I straighten my suit jacket and follow up to the edge of the curtains. He waves me forward and I walk out onto the stage following the general intro music and screaming fans. Kimmel stands and shakes my hand, and then I sit in the chair closest to his desk.

“How are you?” he asks as the audience winds down.

As soon as I tell him I’m good, the audience roars louder than before. He chuckles. I chuckle. Then we get on with the interview.

“I think the ladies here tonight are a little excited to see you, Levi.”

They roar again and I grin at them, playing up the part of the sexy bad boy they crave so much.

“Does this ever get old for you?’

“Nah, how could it? Isn’t it every man’s fantasy to have so many beautiful women love him?” They scream again, catcalling me. We go back and forth a few more times, riling up the audience, before Kimmel digs in.

“You’ve been making headlines lately,” he informs me as he leads the conversation into deeper waters. “Is it true you’re going to be a father?”

I nod hesitantly but no less proud. “Yeah, yeah. A little less than two months to go.”

“That’s wonderful. Congratulations.” I thank him accordingly, already sensing where the line of questioning is headed—the same place it always does. “Now we all know the tabloids have a propensity for stretching the truth. So why don’t we clear something up tonight.” I nod for him to go ahead. I’m ready. Leaning into one arm, he tilts his head and says, “Some people are claiming you’re dating your sister. In fact, they’re claiming your sister is actually the mother of your child. Is there any truth to that?”

I am so fucking glad that David and Lara’s divorce was finalized yesterday. Now I can speak with total truth and without having to dance around definitions. “No, that’s not true.” And then I toss in for good measure, “Vista and I were never related.”

“But isn’t it true that your parents are married, making her your stepsister?”

“For a time, yes, but that’s no longer the case. And being stepsiblings doesn’t actually make us related. We were never connected by blood, and we weren’t raised together, so we never looked at each other like that.”

“So what do you look at each other like?”

“Just a man and a woman.”

“Are you in love?”

For this, I look directly into the camera, hoping that she’s watching this, and say, “One hundred percent, yes.”

“I’m sure that comes as a disappointment for all the women out there to know you’re off the market,” Kimmel grins widely.

“I’m sure,” I reply with a tight smile of my own. Frankly, I don’t give a shit about other women. There’s only one that I care about.

“You said you’re expecting in a couple months?” I nod. “I’m sure you keep a tight schedule now that you’re in the off-season. What does Vista think of all this traveling? Is she enjoying the sights?”

I shift in my seat. “She’s at home, actually. Running a business takes a lot of time and commitment, so we thought it best for her to stay back.”

Kimmel’s brows shoot up. “Sounds interesting. What kind of business?”

“Physical therapy.”

A knowing smile spreads across his face. “You just came back from some time off following an injury that sidelined you for a couple months. Does her profession have anything to do with how you two got together?”

“I’m going to have to plead the fifth, Jimmy.” I laugh, sparking everyone else’s laughter. It’s better to keep them on their toes, smiling along, so they don’t turn this into some kind of witch hunt. As long as they feel connected in some way, everything will run smoothly.

“We have to take a break, but before we go, is there anything you’d like to say to Vista in case she’s watching tonight?”

I suck in a large breath, gathering my thoughts quickly. Finding the right camera, I stare into it as if she’s right there, looking back at me. I picture her tear-stained face the last time I saw her and tell her, “You were right, princess. It’s you and me. So don’t lock that door just yet. Make sure you leave a light on.”

As messages go, mine is pretty cryptic, but with a little thought, I hope if she’s watching she gets it.

After a few more minutes of shooting the shit, I leave Kimmel’s stage and climb into the back of the limo, giving my assistant instructions to take me straight back to the hotel and to book me on the first flight out. I’m not staying in L.A. another second. It’s time to go get my girl.

***

I step off the plane and stretch my limbs before I head off to baggage claim. It’s past midnight. I’m not sure how many hours I’ve been in the air, but it’s enough that I’m tired, sore, and grouchy. It feels so damn good to be back on solid ground. It feels even better knowing that Vista is less than an hour’s drive away.

Urgency grabs hold of me as I meander through the terminal and locate a cab. I was so focused on getting back, I didn’t bother setting up any travel plans. It’s probably better this way anyway. I don’t have to answer to anyone.

The streets are fairly clear of traffic at this time of night, and I don’t have to tell the driver to hurry. He has a natural lead foot and nothing is in his way, so I sit back and pull out my phone. I’m sure she’s asleep by now, and I don’t want to disturb her, but there’s a little part of me that’s too impatient to hear Vista’s voice to wait.

“I’m sorry. The person you are calling isn’t answering their phone. Please leave a message and they will get back to you as soon as possible.”

Sick of hearing that generic, robotic message, I jamb my finger on the “end” icon and tuck the phone back in my pocket. Staring out the window, I watch the city lights zip past, counting down the minutes until we arrive.

When we finally do, I toss a chunk of cash at the driver, throw my bag over my shoulder, and leap out. When I burst through the lobby door, Manny, the security officer I hired to watch over Vista, pops up from his reclined position.

Startled, he shouts after me. “Hey! You have to check in first!” I jerk my head to the side so he can see my face, but I don’t stop for a second.

“It’s okay, Manny. It’s me, Levi!”

“Oh, hey, Mr. Black!” he greets as I rip open the door to the stairwell. If he says anything else after that, I don’t hear it.

I take the stairs two at a time. The elevator probably would have been faster, but right now stopping for anything feels like a death sentence. I have to keep moving. Standing still for any length of time is an impossibility.

When I reach her floor, I barrel through the door and pound down the lengthy corridor until I reach hers. She’s probably asleep by now, but I’m prepared to wake up the whole damn building if I have to.

Banging my fist on the solid wood, I wait, huffing as I struggle to drag oxygen back into my lungs. She doesn’t answer right away, and I imagine all types of scenarios. Did she look through the peephole, see it was me, and decide to let me stand out here and rot? Is she hurt? Is she even here?

I check the number on the door. 236. Definitely the right apartment. I pound on it again, more demanding this time. Then I pick up faint movement on the other side.

When the door opens, I release a relieved breath. There she is, her hair a ratted mess on top of her head, dressed in nothing but a long black t-shirt that strains over her swollen belly. Goddamn, she’s even more beautiful than I remember.

“Levi, what the hell are you doing here?” she asks, her voice raspy from sleep.

Definitely woke her up. My gaze tracks over her once more, and then I get annoyed. “Do you always open the door to strangers in the middle of the night? What if I was some crazy axe murderer?”

She rolls her eyes in that huffy way of hers that drives me crazy and gets me hard all at once. “I have a peephole,” she informs me, pointing to it. “And for the record, even though I saw that it was you, I almost called the cops anyway. Why the hell are you pounding on my door this late at night? Are you trying to get me evicted?”

Pushing the door open, I invite myself inside since she’s clearly not going to. Setting my bag down on the coffee table, I turn to her and ask, “Did you catch the show tonight?”

After closing the door and securing the locks, Vista crosses the room, bypassing the couch and climbing back into bed. Not that it makes much of a difference. They’re practically the same room.

Still, after all this time apart, even that small amount of distance is too much. Kicking off my shoes, I crawl in beside her.

Her eyes pop open and she hisses, “What are you doing in my bed?”

“Talking to you. What does it look like?”

“Like you’re in my bed. Get out.”

“No. Now tell me, did you see the show or not?”

“Since I’m not a glutton for punishment and I have no clue what you’re talking about, obviously not.” She releases a huge yawn that makes me smile. Dammit she’s adorable. How did I stay away this long?

Digging out my phone, I type in my name and Jimmy’s and instantly get a hit. Just as I thought, someone’s already uploaded it to YouTube. Damn, I love technology sometimes.

Handing the phone off to her, I tell her, “Here, watch it,” figuring it’ll make more sense if she sees it than if I try to explain it.

Casting me a suspicious frown, she takes it and rolls onto her back, getting comfortable. Holding the phone in the air, over her face, she starts the feed.

While she lays there watching, my attention drifts lower to her abdomen. It’s fuller than it was last time I was here. Rounder. Without thinking, I reach out and rest my hand on it, earning a sharp look, but Vista doesn’t tell me to stop, so I don’t.

I listen to the interview progress with half an ear, until I feel a strong bump directly beneath my palm, then I’m not listening at all. My attention is one hundred percent riveted to what’s happening in her stomach.

Several sharp jabs hit the underside of my hand and right before my eyes, I watch her basketball of a stomach roll and shift, bulging and sinking in this crazy ass dance that has my heart trying to beat clear out of my chest.

I have never seen anything like it. To imagine a whole person inside there, moving around, is mind-blowing. I have a million things that want to burst from my mouth right now—namely, a shout of pure elation—but I keep it bottled up, afraid that if I make even the slightest sound, she’ll boot me out the door.

I’m not stupid. I know I fucked up pretty bad. But I’m here, and she’s here, and this is happening, and I’m hoping to fucking God that she still feels something for me.

“Just one more chance,” I hear myself whisper as I move down the bed and curl my arms around her belly, holding our son the only way possible. “I know you hate me right now, and you have every reason to, but please don’t send me away. Please tell me we can still fix this.”

The plea shutters out of me and I’m shocked to realize that I’m crying. Like real fucking tears. My fingers swipe at the moisture coating my cheeks and I stare at them, dumbfounded because I can’t recall the last time I cried.

I’ve broken bones and smiled through the pain.

Feeling something soft touch my hand, I look up to see Vista’s fingers curling around mine. Her face is obscured by the phone, but what I can see of her is set aglow. I don’t know if she’s responding to my whispered plea or the video. I don’t even know what it means, but that single touch gives me a shred of hope.

Afraid to move, afraid that if I do it will break the spell and she’ll take her hand away, I hold as still as possible. The only thing that moves is my head, because I can’t help myself from kissing her hard stomach, from running my lips tenderly across it. It’s so unbelievable that we made an entire person together. The love I feel for both of them can’t be described.

I listen closely as she gets to the part where Jimmy asks me if I want to say anything. Her hand squeezes in mine as we listen to my words together.

“You were right, princess. It’s you and me. So don’t lock that door just yet. Make sure you leave a light on.”

The video jumps ahead to the rest of the interview and Vista presses the button on the side of the phone to shut it off, taking the light with it. The room is dark and full of shadows now, but I can still make out her general form. Setting the phone down on the blankets beside her, she asks softly, “Keep a light on?”

There’s confusion and a touch of humor in her tone, and I feel what some might describe as a bashful smile curl the corners of my mouth. “Yeah, well, I never claimed to be a poet.”

There’s a long pause and I hold my breath, bracing myself for whatever she has to say.

“When was the interview?”

“Tonight. Well, last night, I guess. I lost track of my days on the flight. I left as soon as the interview was done.”

“You flew all the way from California?”

I nod against her stomach, realizing the way that I’m curled around her, with her hand in mine, is about as intimate as two people can get without having sex.

“What did you mean by the light thing?”

Shit, I knew I should have been clearer. That’s what I get for trying to be clever. Groaning at my own idiocy, I explain. “It was just my way of saying that I was on my way and to wait up for me. I guess I fucked that all up, huh?” I grimace, glad for the darkness. If she could see my face now—“Hey!” The room is suddenly brighter than the sun, forcing my eyes into narrow slits.

“You trying to get back at me for leaving by burning my eyes out of their sockets, woman?” I complain, rubbing them furiously. It takes some time, but they eventually adjust to the light.

When I can focus, I see Vista is laying there, nestled in a mound of pillows, staring at me with this unreadable expression. I can’t tell if she’s happy or if she’s about to rip my balls off and serve them to me for dinner.

A slow smile breaks out and, using the hand that’s holding mine, she pulls herself up to sit. The action forces me to sit back on my knees, bringing us inches apart.

“Sorry,” she says with a smile that tells me she is anything but that. “I was just keeping a light on for you.”

My jaw drops and I study her for any indication that she’s pulling my leg. Maybe this is just her way of punishing me, getting my hopes up before she drops me on my ass. But when I look into those soft brown eyes, all I see is sincerity.

“Am I hearing you right?”

“Depends on what you think you’re hearing.”

“I think I just heard you say that you forgive me and that you can’t live another second without me.”

Rolling her bottom lip between her teeth, Vista replies, “I think you might be right.”

My heart fucking soars. With a growl, I lunge, tackling her back onto the mattress. Her stomach means I can’t climb on top of her like I want to, but that’s not going to keep me from sucking on those plump lips.

Cupping the side of her neck, I pull her to me and take her mouth with force, plunging my tongue inside and swirling it with hers. She tastes like a dream, one I never want to wake up from. When her fingers tunnel into my hair, her lips and tongue dancing eagerly with mine, it’s nearly impossible to restrain myself.

I tell her I love her between each kiss, tell her how fucking sorry I am for being such a son of a bitch, and she kisses me back eagerly, telling me without words that she forgives me. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it, but I’ll take it, because without her my life means nothing.

Drawing back slightly, Vista presses a delicate hand against my chest and peers up at me with a vulnerability I’ve never seen before. “Tell me this isn’t a dream,” she says breathlessly.

“If it is,” I tell her as I settle in beside her and wrap her up tight in my arms so that we’re facing one another, “then I don’t wanna wake up.”

EPILOGUE

One year later…

“Rotate your shoulder. Now come forward. Back. Again. Good!” I help Keyon, one of my best clients and arguably the football world’s best player, lower the weights back to the floor. He’s a big guy, towering over me by a good half foot. He hasn’t been injured—yet—and he’s hoping that by coming to me, he’ll lessen his chances of gaining any serious injuries on the field.

Smart man.

Shaking out his long limbs, Keyon strides over to the bench where he laid his towel and picks it up, swabbing the light sheen of sweat from his flawless ebony skin. “Great workout, boss.”

“I keep telling you, Keyon, I’m not your boss.” I laugh, earning a wide, toothy grin. “Are you ready for the game Sunday?” He’s the star running back for a team that is, according to Levi, headed for the Super Bowl this season.

“The other team isn’t going to know what hit ‘em,” he boasts. “Hey, are you and your husband planning to make it out?”

I promised him that Levi and I would make at least one of his games. It’s a thing I like to do to show my clients that I’m invested in them as a sort of thank you for investing in me. Marquis Rehabilitation wouldn’t be the overnight success it is today without them.

“I’ll have to talk to Levi, but I’m pretty sure we can.”

“Great, then I’ll make sure to leave a couple tickets for you at the front.”

I thank him and as he walks out, I see my gorgeous husband walk in. Levi looks damn fine in his Tuesday best—a pair of tight black jeans and black riding jacket worn over a black Henley. His beard is freshly trimmed and his sexy as sin smile is in full effect. Chase is strapped securely to his chest like a little papoose, fast asleep.

He crosses paths with Keyon, pausing to shake hands and exchange a few words before he heads my way and drops a sweet kiss on my lips. “Hey, princess. Ready to take off?”

“Just gotta grab my purse.” I pause before turning away and look meaningfully at the bundle of baby cuddled up to him. “You did bring the car, right?”

Levi’s eyes widen in mock offense. “Babe, come on. What do you take me for?”

I raise my brows, then change the direction of the conversation. “So a Mohawk, huh?” I reach out to run a finger across the blond hawk running down the center of Chase’s round head, only to have my hand slapped away before contact.

“Never mess with a man’s hair, princess.”

Shaking my head, I turn and walk away. Levi and I have been married for ten months now, and I dare say I know him better than he knows himself. Still, as ornery and mischievous as the man is, I haven’t regretted a second of our time together.

The day we said our vows to one another was the day Chase entered the world. In true Levi form, he couldn’t wait and do things in the right order or at the right time. He proposed during the most brutal contraction, citing his cleverness in distracting me from the pain, and he pulled in a man from the hospital chapel who looked the part and had him marry us as I began to push. I never thought my marriage vows would be punctuated by panting breaths or a crying baby, but I have to give Levi credit. He certainly made the event a memorable one.

Mom was right, too. She told me he was a good guy, and he really is. When I first moved in with Levi, he was the bad boy, womanizing, son of a bitch I’d pegged him for. Now, he’s the sweetest, most charming, if not completely over-the-top wonderful husband I knew he could be.

A week before our son was born, Levi announced to the world that he would be taking time off to be with us, his family. He then made it his mission to get Marquis Rehabilitation some much needed recognition. Employing his connections in the sports world, he singlehandedly shoved the business into the limelight. In a few short months, my business has reached heights I never would have imagined possible. There’s even speculation that it might make Forbes.

So I guess you can say that I’ve learned to take help where it’s needed.

So now, while I’m working to build my dream, Levi is working on becoming father of the year—his words, not mine. I’d say he has that in the bag.

We hit the road and arrive at my mother’s townhouse a few minutes later. I gather the diaper bag while Levi removes Chase from his car seat. The door swings open before we reach the sidewalk and I see Mom step out in a pair of slim fitting red capris and white, off the shoulder sweater.

She certainly doesn’t look like a grandma.

“There’s my little man!” she squeals as Levi passes her the baby. “Oh, would you look at that?” she gushes, inspecting his hairdo. “That has got to be the cutest thing I have ever seen in my life.”

“Levi’s bright idea,” I laugh. I move to step up onto the porch with her, but Levi’s hand on my arm holds me back. I pass him a questioning look as he relieves me of the diaper bag and passes it off to Mom.

“Are you sure you’re good for the night, Lara? We can swing by later on the way home?”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, confused.

“I have raised a child before. I think I’ll survive the night,” Mom cajoles. To me she says, “You two have fun tonight.”

I’m barely allowed the time to kiss Chase’s forehead before Levi is dragging me back to the car. Only it’s not the car he takes me to. I failed to notice his bike parked at the curb when we pulled up.

“What the hell is happening right now?” I ask again as Levi slings his leg over the motorcycle and hands me my helmet saying, “No time for questions, babe. Hop up on the bitch seat.”

I slap his arm is mock offense, and he smirks. “Who are you calling a bitch?”

“Not, you, princess. Never you,” he feigns innocence as he grasps my chin and draws my face to his for a placating kiss.

I shake my head when he releases me and stay put to allow Levi to adjust the helmet on under my chin…just like he used to do. We haven’t ridden this thing in…almost a year. I hadn’t realized just how much I missed being on the back of it until right this second. As confused and lost as I feel right now, because our plans for dinner at my mom’s house have apparently been cancelled, I can’t deny the thread of excitement creating butterflies in my stomach as I climb on behind him.

“Change of plans, princess.” Reaching back, Levi grabs my thighs and tugs me in for a tighter fit. “Tonight…we ride.”

I chuckle at his dramatic delivery. As he kicks his foot down and the bike rumbles to life, I decide that whatever he has planned, it’s not worth ruining the surprise. We get so few of them anymore. So I wrap my arms tight around his lean waist and hold on tight as we jet off.

We ride for what is probably a couple hours, but it still feels too short to me. I love the feel of the cool, crisp air in my face. I love the smell of Levi’s leather jacket in my nose. I should be mourning the distance from my little man, but I’m enjoying myself with my big man far too much. Feeling exhilarated, I allow my hands to wander a few times, groping Levi and laughing in amusement at the low rumble of frustration that vibrates through his chest.

That’s probably why he’s crossed state lines. At first, I was worried. Being in the dark, not in control, already had my head spinning. So when the sign indicating we were leaving Ohio flashed by, I definitely needed answers.

Answers I never got.

Entering Chicago was an even bigger mystery. We haven’t been back since Levi cleared out his apartment in the sky and we set up our new life together in Ohio, the adjustment made even easier when my mom moved to be closer to us.

Without a reason to come back, my mind immediately jumps to David. But that idea is quickly cast aside when I feel the firm bulge beneath my questing fingers.

If we were going to visit Daddy Dearest, I doubt Levi would be hard as a rock.

Just as I suspect, Levi has something entirely different in mind. Only, I couldn’t have predicted just what that was until he takes us down a road less traveled that holds meaning for both of us.

After coasting down the bumpy path, we climb off the bike and take a moment to soak in our surroundings.

“Well, the house is still here,” Levi comments.

I study the dilapidated structure. The first time I laid eyes on it, I thought it was creepy as hell. Now, it somehow feels like home.

“Come on.” Taking my hand, Levi leads us around back to the water’s edge and selects a spot that’s flat and covered in a light cushion of dark green grass.

“So what’s the occasion?” I ask, looking out over the pond. This was his place, someplace to let go of his worries for a while. I still feel privileged that he thought enough of me to share it. Come spring, the aging structure behind us will be gone, making way for construction to start on a new cabin where we’ll make new and lasting memories together.

Raising our combined hands to his mouth, he kisses the back of mine. “Does there have to be one?”

“No,” I chuckle. “It’s just not every day that we travel so far for a date night. Something is up. I can feel it.”

“Never could get anything past you,” he teases and pecks me on the nose. Drawing my arm across his lap, he pulls me into his side and wraps his strong arm around my shoulders. “It’s been a hell of a year, hasn’t it?”

I think about all that we’ve been through and how far we’ve come, and I can’t disagree. “Yeah, it really has.”

“You make me happy, Vista,” he says softly, pressing his lips into my hair. I try to tilt my head back so I can see his eyes, but his grip on my shoulder hardens and his chin presses down on top of my head, holding me immobile. “No, don’t look at me when I say sappy shit. It makes it weird.”

Grinning, I stay put and just listen. “Anyway, I’m happy. And for a guy who used to think he was happy, that’s saying something. You’re, like, the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Oh, Levi—”

“No, no. Just shush and listen or I’ll never get this out.” Rubbing his bearded cheek across my hair, he continues. “So you’re probably wondering why I brought you here. Like any good criminal, I wanted to return to the scene of the crime.”

“What crime?”

“The first time we sinned together,” he purrs seductively in my ear. Unbidden, my body shudders and wet heat floods between my legs. Grasping my chin, Levi tilts my head back, finally allowing me to meet his heated gaze. “Now that we have Chase, you don’t get nearly as much quality time with me as I know you’d like.”

His wolfish smile has me laughing. “I like how you twisted that around.”

“What? You don’t!” he defends. His thumb tracing my jawline, his expression softens. “I thought it would be fun to get back to our roots and maybe…revisit old memories. So, what do you say?”