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“Thank you,” Mom says softly. “That means a lot to me.”
“Of course.” I shake my head, running a hand through my hair. “I just want what’s best for you. Always.”
That part, at least, is true and has always been true. It’s just that I used to have a severely fucked up concept of what was best for my mom. For years, I thought she would’ve been better off if she’d stayed with my dad. It was only my recent trip to visit him in San Diego that helped me see that Mom is honestly much better off without him in her life.
Paul cares about her. He’d move mountains for her without a word of complaint.
I don’t think my dad was ever like that, and certainly not in any recent memory.
“I love you, Trent. Come by for dinner sometime soon, will you? I know you’ve been so busy dealing with all of that hacking nonsense, but that only means you need a night of normalcy and a good, homemade potpie even more.”
A chuckle escapes me, but she’s not wrong. “I will. Love you too.”
I hang up and toss the phone down on my nightstand. West and Reese are home, but Emma’s still at work. She should be arriving any minute now, and I wonder if she’s heard the news too.
As if I’ve called her up by my thoughts, I hear the door open a half-second later.
Emma.
Pivoting on my heel, I head toward my bedroom door. It only takes me a few strides to reach it, but the moment I pull the door open, I stop in my tracks.
Emma must’ve been walking even faster than I was, because she’s already outside my door. Her hand is raised like sh
e was about to knock, and there’s an expression on her face that I can’t quite read.
I may not be able to read it, but I know I don’t like it.
It’s pinched, tense, closed-off.
Like she’s scared.
My teeth grind together, and before she can speak, I grab her wrist and yank her into the room. The door closes behind her, and a second later, I’ve got her up against it, her back pressed tightly to the wood as my lips devour hers in a bruising kiss.
My leg slides between hers, grinding up against her so that her pussy rides my thigh, and her response is immediate. She whimpers breathlessly, her hands latching on to my arms for stability as she gets swept up in the kiss.
The tension I saw in her before slowly melts out of her as her body molds to mine, her hips undulating against me with unconscious little movements.
Finally, I break the kiss, reluctantly pulling my mouth away from hers. My hand reaches up to clasp her chin, fingers and thumb splaying across her jaw and part of her neck.
“What’s that look for?” I growl.
The tight expression is gone from her face, replaced by something dazed and pliant, but I know she understands what I’m talking about.
She swallows. I’m holding her chin so tightly that I can feel the play of muscles underneath my fingertips as she does. Then her pink tongue darts out to wet her lips, her eyelashes fluttering as she gathers her thoughts.
I’m already hard from our kiss, from grinding against her and feeling the heat of her pussy against my thigh. But that small glimpse of her tongue darting out, the gesture innocent and sinful at the same time, makes my cock throb, aching to bury itself inside her.
“I… I got a call from my dad at work today,” she whispers. “He told me—”
“—he and my mom are getting married.”
I finish the sentence for her, and her gorgeous brown eyes flare wide in surprise.
“You knew? Then why did you—”
Using my grip on her chin, I tilt her head up a little, pressing my lips hard against hers. I know what she’s going to ask. She’s going to ask why I kissed her the way I just did if I knew our parents are engaged to be married. Why I’m not angry at her instead.
And I don’t want to hear her say those fucking words. I don’t want to live in the past, where she feared my retribution and reprisal for what I saw as her wrongs.
