Lie to You Page 7

  For a moment, I forget myself. Releasing my hold on him, I move to straddle his legs, ready to throw myself back into the deep end, but Rebel’s forceful hands on my shoulders bar me from getting any closer.

  Confused, I break our kiss and sit back to give him a questioning look. “Bedroom?”

  “After,” he says, a wicked smile crossing his face. “Get down on your knees, pussycat. I want to see that pretty mouth wrapped around my cock.”

  NINE

  I’m on my knees before Rebel. He’s making incredible sounds from deep in his throat that spur me on, fueling my own desire and raising it to a fever pitch. With my fist pumping his shaft, I form a tight seal with my mouth and take him to the back of my throat.

  My jaw is tired and a strand of my hair is caught in my eye, but I don’t stop. I don’t slow down. I keep up the punishing pace, my head bobbing faster at his command. Rebel’s fingers spear my hair, and he forces my face down as he thrusts his hips up. His cock fills my throat, and I gag. At the sound, Rebel’s takes over completely, driving himself down my throat with each brutal thrust. The more I choke on it, the faster and harder he goes.

  Despite my inability to breathe and the sloppy sounds of saliva dripping from my mouth, I feel him thicken against my tongue, taking up any negative space there might have been. Tears leaking from my eyes, all I can do is brace myself. With one final thrust, Rebel shoves my head down. His cock fills my throat, forcing it open, and I hold my breath as a hot wash of semen pours down the back of it.

  When he’s finished, Rebel releases me. I sit back, wiping my chin and the corners of my mouth and picking hair from the sides of my face. We’re both out of breath, and I’m so turned on I can feel the wetness coating my inner thighs.

  Rebel’s eyelids are heavy, and he watches me from beneath the thick fringe of black lashes with the satisfied look of a well-loved man.

  “Well, now that that’s done, you can put your dick away long enough to tell me what the fuck is going on here.”

  At the intrusion of another voice, a startled squeak leaps past my lips and I scramble closer to Rebel, hiding beside his long legs. Until I realize who spoke.

  Ransom is standing at the head of the couch, his dark eyes murderous. He glares at me so hard I feel a pit of fear open in my stomach.

  Rebel, however, is completely unaffected by his brother’s presence or the fact that he’s virtually naked in front of him. In as relaxed a manor as he can muster, Rebel pushes his cock back inside his pants and reaches for me, drawing me into his lap and tucking my long hair behind my ears.

  Rebel’s always been excellent with aftercare, so his careful attention is exactly what I need to help calm my frayed nerves.

  “You’re home early,” Rebel says, his voice rough. His hand drifts to my back, his fingers trailing up and down my spine, eliciting goose bumps over every inch of my skin. “I thought you had a hot date tonight.”

  My eyes snap up at this, colliding with Ransom’s. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so upset before, but right now, I feel like I’m staring down the business end of a shotgun and the finger on the trigger is dodgy.

  “Since when does Mom qualify as a date?” Ransom growls.

  “Ah, my mistake.” There is this gleam in Rebel’s eyes that leaves no room for doubt that he’s in a mood to play with fire.

  “I thought we had a deal,” Ransom states, eying us both for an answer.

  I frown at this. After the way we left things at his parents’ house and in class? “I didn’t think you were interested anymore.”

  Upper lip curling back from his teeth, Ransom shouts, “What the fuck gave you that idea?”

  “Watch your tone, brother,” Rebel warns. His fingers continue skating down my spine, but instead of it being comforting, it unnerves me. I can feel the animosity radiating from him, the leash on his control straining. How the hell can he act so calm?

  “Watch my tone? Like I’m not supposed to be pissed when I come home to find my girlfriend on her knees with my brother’s dick in her mouth?”

  “I think the question you should be asking yourself is where else my dick has been,” Rebel states. Grabbing my waist, he pushes me to my feet and rises up behind me.

  “You have a lot of nerve,” Ransom clips out. “You think you can just swoop in and seduce my girlfriend away from me?”

  “Whoa, wait a minute here,” I say, holding up my hands in a stop motion. There is way too much of this “girlfriend” stuff being thrown around for my taste. I’m pleasantly unattached at the moment, and if these two are going to continue to go at it like this whenever we’re all in the same room together, then I’ll happily remain that way.

  Like the dominate man he is, Rebel speaks right over me. “Girlfriend? Let’s not forget who she belonged to first.”

  “You might have fucked her,” Ransom argues, “but I’m the one who loved her.”

  “Ha! Is that the bullshit you’re spouting now? You loved her? The only thing you know how to love is yourself.”

  “I should leave now,” I mutter.

  Rebel takes hold of my arm before I can take a single step, and holds my back firm against his chest. “No, pussycat,” he says, his gaze still firmly locked on Ransom. “You’re not going anywhere. I’m not even close to being done with you.”

  Using my arm to guide me, Rebel steers me through the living room toward the short hallway containing the two bedrooms and single bath I got acquainted with last time I was here before taking the lead and dragging me along the rest of the way. I don’t like where this is going, and I pull back, planting my feet.

  Rebel’s dissatisfaction with my refusal to cooperate is evident in the way his head swivels around and his eyes narrow. “Move your ass, Josephine. This isn’t a time to play.”

  “I’m not going to allow you to stick me in the middle of some sick dick measuring contest,” I say, struggling to pull my arm free of his bruising grip.

  “Of course not,” he scoffs. “I’d win.”

  “Your ego is completely out of control,” Ransom says, coming up to stand behind me. “You really think dragging a woman to your bedroom like some kind of primitive animal is really going to earn you points?”

  “Do you really think that stand-up-guy routine is going to work in your favor forever?” Rebel volleys back. “I told her all about your penchant for stealing what isn’t yours, by the way.”

  “And yet here she stands.”

  The temperature in the hallway drops noticeably, the chill skating down my spine as the men stare each other down. I don’t like nor appreciate the position they’ve put me in, so rather than continue standing here and be a part of it, I decide to remove myself from the situation.

  Taking advantage of Rebel’s distraction, I free myself from him. His gaze drops to me in silent warning, but I wave him off, annoyance making me bold. “I’ll be in your room. You two have fun with your pissing contest, and try not to make too much of a mess while you’re at it.”

  I walk away with the sensation of eyes on me, but I don’t look back. Closing myself inside Rebel’s room, I don’t even bother assessing my surroundings. The giant California king is calling my name and I throw myself on top of it.

  Staring at the cherry red fan mounted on the ceiling, I ask myself why I didn’t just keep walking when I had the chance. Why did I turn around and acknowledge Rebel instead of hitting those stairs running like I originally planned?

  Now I’m trapped here, in his bedroom, while he and his brother argue just outside the door. I could leave anytime I want. Despite what he says, I know without a doubt that Rebel isn’t the kind of man to keep a woman prisoner. He has too much integrity for that. Yet I also know how much he enjoys a challenge, and it’s part of the reason why I like pushing back.

  It’s the thrill of the chase.

  Maybe that’s why I chose to stay. Maybe, deep down inside, I know the only way to get Rebel to back off is to give him what he wants.

  I’m doz
ing off when the door opens and Rebel slips inside. My eyes follow him as he strides around the side of the bed and climbs on to lay down beside me. Both of us positioned on our backs, we gaze up at the ceiling.

  “I pictured this night going differently,” he murmurs, a twinge of disappointment present in his voice.

  I hate that he’s feeling this way. Rebel is always so sure about everything. To see that he isn’t makes me want to offer him comfort. Finding his hand on the covers between us, I lace our fingers together. It’s a level of intimacy we don’t normally share. The closest we’ve come is sleeping in the same bed together, but I want this. I need it. And I think, deep down inside, Rebel does, too.

  Rebel doesn’t react, other than to allow the connection. It’s that small piece of acceptance that spurs me on. Turning onto my side, I curl my arm beneath my head and study his profile. He’s stern, his gaze focused above, his jaw tight, but he’s calm as ever.

  “How did you see tonight going?”

  He sucks in a breath and releases it slowly. “You, me, a couple of drinks, and no clothes between us.”

  “You’re so romantic,” I tease.

  “If you’re looking for romance,” Rebel says, his gaze cutting to mine, “it’s out that door and down the hall.”

  Just like that, he’s back to being angry. I prefer neutral Rebel over angry Rebel any day. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  “Do I? Because you looked pretty damn horrified when Ransom caught you sucking my cock.”

  My eyes widen in shock. “That’s because of the situation! I know you think I’m a whore because of what I do to pay my bills—”

  I don’t get to finish my sentence. In one swift move, Rebel rolls over me, gathering my hands over my head and pinning me to the bed. His face is in mine, the look in his eyes fiercer than I’ve ever seen them.

  “I don’t give a flying fuck what you do for cash,” he growls, his hands biting into my wrists. “If I considered you a whore, I wouldn’t have claimed you for my own. The only reason I kept you a secret was because I wanted to keep my personal and professional lives separate for as long as possible...and to keep Ransom from finding out about you.” His gaze bores into mine, making sure I understand him.

  I do.

  He couldn’t possibly be any clearer, and the note of fear thrumming through my veins tells me to keep my mouth shut.

  With a sharp jerk that presses my wrists deeper into the pillows, Rebel releases me and leaps from the bed. Storming toward the door, he reaches for the handle and pauses.

  His heavy shoulders rise and fall dramatically as he attempts to reign in his emotions. Carefully, I push myself up, wanting to go to him, to apologize for upsetting him, even as my instincts cause me to shrink away.

  “Rebel…”

  His hand slices through the air, cutting me off. “Don’t ever put words in my mouth again, Josephine,” he says, his voice low. “I won’t stand for it.”

  “I didn’t mean to,” I tell him earnestly. Feeling the moment beginning to spin out of control, I throw my legs over the side of the bed, intending to go after him.

  “Stay the fuck away from me.” His words cut straight to the marrow and I freeze, doing exactly what he says.

  Hugging myself, I whisper, “I thought we were spending the night together.”

  He shakes his head, releasing a choked laugh. “Right, well, that’s the beauty of making plans,” he says caustically. “They change.”

  Unable to form words, I watch him walk out the door. Sliding back on the bed, I draw the blankets over me and wait for him to return.

  He doesn’t.

  Rebel has walked out on me, and as the hours pass, I kick myself harder for not having listened to my instincts when I had the chance. This whole night is fucked, and all I want to do is go home.

  Instead, I fall asleep sitting up, watching that damn door for any sign of Rebel’s return, telling myself that when I wake up, everything will be better.

  But it only gets worse.

  TEN

  It’s still dark when I wake up. Turning my head, I look to the spot next to me. Empty.

  Bothered that Rebel was so affected by my comment, which seemed so innocuous at the time, I leave the warmth of his bed behind to seek him out. If Rebel won’t come to me, I’ll go to him.

  Soft music plays in the background as I enter the living room. Casting my gaze around the room, I almost don’t see Rebel at first. He’s slumped down in the recliner, his dark head barely peeking past the top of the brown leather. One arm hangs off the side of the chair, and in his hand his loose fingers barely hold on to a tumbler with less than a half inch of scotch at its base. A soft moan carries over the music, and I realize he’s lost in a bad dream.

  I go to him, my nose taking in the spicy scent of the alcohol’s rich perfume—one that I’ve come to associate with him. Having ditched my shoes long ago, my bare feet make no sound on the hard wood floors. I’m thankful for that because when I get close enough to see over the top of the chair, my world stops.

  Horror washes through every cell in my body as I watch the red mop of hair move between his spread thighs. I know the shade instantly. Can place the face and name without pause. Here I thought Rebel was drowning his sorrows in booze, when he was getting sucked off by this tramp.

  He lied to me. I asked Rebel flat out if there was anyone else, and he denied it. It’s a total slap in the face, and it’s breaking my fucking heart.

  How can he do this to me? How could he invite this woman over while I slept in his bed and do…that?

  I am beyond disgusted. Beyond humiliated. Beyond everything. Not wanting to interrupt, wanting absolutely no part of what is going on, I back away slowly. When I’ve placed a safe distance between us, I spin around and rush back to Rebel’s room.

  I don’t make it there.

  Just as I reach Ransom’s door, it opens, and he steps into my path, blocking my escape. Surprised to see me there, he begins to apologize, but one look at my face and his expression hardens. “What did he do?”

  “He—he brought her here.” My voice trembles and I realize that I am on the verge of crying. I can’t allow myself the luxury of doing that. Not here, not in front of them. I won’t allow my emotions to overtake me. I won’t.

  Filling my lungs, I close my eyes and force it all back down. There’s no room in my life for weakness. Not now, not ever. Once I’ve regained control, I open my eyes to find Ransom glaring down at me.

  His anger’s not directed at me, though. Oh, no. As he lifts his eyes and stares over my head with a deadly calm I’ve only ever seen in his brother’s eyes, I know I’m not the person he’s thinking of now. “Go in my room and shut the door,” he says with more of that terrifying calm that invites no argument. “Don’t come out, no matter what you hear.”

  I step sideways into the room, watching him the entire time. I’m scared. I don’t like where this is leading. I’m upset and hurt and angry, but I don’t want to see anyone get hurt, especially not over me. “What are you going to do?”

  “What I should have done a long time ago.”

  Whatever that means, but I can tell by the look on his face that Ransom isn’t open to any more questions. I close the door softly and back away from it until my knees hit something soft and I drop down to sit on the edge of his bed.

  The door is nothing but a rectangle of shadow outlined by an even darker shade of gray from the lack of light. In the absolute quiet, all I can hear is the steady drum of my heart and the low hum of voices coming from the other room.

  I can’t make out actual words or who they belong to and my imagination fills in the details. They’re probably fighting, over me, over her, I don’t know, but with the way Ransom spoke before he left, it’s the only sensible option. Still, the shouting I expected never comes. The longer the silence goes on, the more I hate myself. I’m causing a rift between these brothers. I’m tearing a family apart. What kind of person am I that I am willi
ng to ruin lives to satisfy my libido?

  My nose tingles and my eyes water, but I manage to hold back the tears. When I hear the bump of the front door closing, I suck in a breath and hold it. The waiting seems to take forever. I don’t know what to expect or who will walk through that door.

  When it finally opens, it takes me a moment to assess the man who comes inside. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see that he’s wearing a white t-shirt and boxers.

  I shoot off the bed and rush to Ransom. “What happened? Is everything okay?” It’s so dark in here that no matter how hard I strain to see his eyes, it’s impossible to read him. “You didn’t kill anyone, did you?”

  Grasping my wrists, he breaks the hold I have on the front of his shirt and sets me away. I pivot on my heel and follow him back to the bed. Sitting down on the edge of it, Ransom drops his head in his hands and releases a heavy breath.

  “Everything is fine now. I kicked her out.” He curses under his breath. “I can’t believe he did that. With you here?” He shakes his head, at a loss for words.

  I know exactly how he feels. I can’t erase the image of Florence on her knees. Even though the angle prevented me from seeing much, my brain was more than able to fill in the missing details.

  Dropping down next to him, I clasp my hands together, pinning them between my knees. “What did he say?”

  “Not much,” Ransom laughs humorlessly. “He’s pretty drunk. In fact, he was passed out cold when I found him. I tried to wake him up so I could punch his lights out, but I couldn’t get much from him. He was pretty out of it. I’m not even sure he knew what was happening.”

  “Well, I hope he remembers it in the morning,” I grumble because I intend to plant my fist in his balls and I want him to know why it’s happening.

  “I doubt it. Not that I want to sound like I’m on his side, because I’m not, but from what I saw, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that Florence might have taken advantage of him.”