Rival (23 page)

I clasped Fallon’s hand tighter and whispered, “I need a few minutes alone.”

Her watery eyes sparkled, and she nodded her understanding. Walking past me, she headed for the kitchen.

Pushing the door open, I saw my father in his desk chair, leaning on his knees with his head in his hands. Katherine was kneeling in front of him, comforting him, I assumed.

“Ms. Trent?” I called, slipping my hands into the pockets of my jacket. “Can I talk to my dad alone, please?”

Both of their heads popped up, and Katherine stood.

She looked beautiful in a cream-colored forties-style house dress with red polka dots on it. Her chocolate dark brown hair—the same shade as Jared’s—hung over her shoulders in loose curls, but pieces were brought up in two barrettes on each side of the top of her head.

My father, on the other hand, was a mess. Disheveled hair he’d probably been running his fingers through, a wrinkled white shirt, blue silk tie hanging loose, and he’d definitely been crying.

He sat there, unmoving, and actually looking a little afraid of me.

Katherine cleared her throat. “Of course.”

I stepped out of the doorway as she walked past, but I reached out
and grabbed her hand, stopping her. I kissed her cheek and gave her a grateful smile. “Thanks,” I whispered.

Her eyes shined, and she nodded before leaving.

My father hadn’t moved from his chair, and I did a sweep of the room, remembering that I was never allowed in here as a kid. My father wasn’t hiding things. Not in here anyway. But he once said “his whole life” was in this room, and it wasn’t a place for kids.

I think that was the first time I realized that I wasn’t my dad’s top priority. There were things he loved more than me.

But looking at him now . . . his weary eyes, his physical strain, and the silence that told me he didn’t know what to say to me offered up a different conclusion.

Maybe my dad cared.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped toward him. “I never liked you, Dad.” I spoke slowly, taking my time. “You worked too much, and you never showed up when you said would. You made my mother cry, and you thought money could fix everything. And the worst part is that you’re not stupid. You knew the void you left in your family, but you did it anyway.”

I narrowed my eyes, challenging him to say something. Anything to account for himself.

But his eyes had dropped to the desk with my first words, and they had stayed there.

So I continued, straightening my shoulders more. “I love Fallon. And I love this house. I want you in my life, but if you’re going to throw your weight around like it matters, then you can go to hell.” I paused, coming up in front of the desk. “We don’t need you. But I do love you, Dad.”

My jaw tightened, and I blinked away the sting in my eyes.

He raised his eyes, and it was a look I’d never seen before. They shimmered with tears, but they were hard. My father wanted to fight.
In his head he worried about my education, Fallon and me having jobs, dealing with marriage when we were still growing up, but that’s what he didn’t notice.

I’d stopped growing up when Fallon left.

And I started again when she came home.

You have to have something to love. Something to fight for to make living a goal instead of a job. Fallon wouldn’t keep me from tomorrow. My father had done that.

I held his stare, ready for whatever he wanted to throw at me, but he should know better. If he didn’t support us, we were doing it without him.

Finally standing up, he ran his hands through his hair and tightened his tie. I watched him as he went to his safe, dialed in the combination, and took out some papers. Returning to his desk, he signed the document and handed it to me over the desk.

I hesitated. It was probably a new will leaving me in the cold or some such bullshit.

“I’m keeping the other two-thirds of your trust and doling it out as was already planned,” he explained. “But here’s a wedding gift . . . if we can fight hard enough to keep it.”

Confused, I unfolded the papers again, and a sliver of a smile escaped my lips.

“The house?” I asked, surprised.

He’d given me the deed to the house, but it wasn’t in my name. Excitement and confusion rushed through my very clouded brain.

Did I want the house?

Yes.

Forever and ever and ever?

Hell yes!

I loved it here, and so did Fallon. If we could keep it in Caruthers
hands, we would. But what did this mean for my father? I didn’t necessarily want him gone.

Kind of.

No, not really.

“Patricia’s trying to take the house. I’m sure you know.” My father’s eyes clouded in an expression I was more familiar with. “But I’ll drag her through court for as long as I can. It may take a year, but I’ll win. The house is in my name, but as my wife, she has rights to it until a court says she doesn’t. I’ll transfer the house to you officially when I take away that threat.” He stood up straight, reaching out his hand to me. “But the house is yours for all intents and purposes. I know you and Fallon—and Addie—love it here, and I want you to have your home.

I took his hand, and the furious flow of blood through my veins relaxed. I wasn’t sure if my father was really giving up, if he was just that tired of drama, or if he was bluffing.

But when I looked at him, I saw his relaxed eyes turn bleary, and before I knew it I was yanked in for a hug.

“Whoa,” I grunted against the crush of his arms and almost laughed. I wasn’t sure if this was a joke or if it was supposed to be funny, but rare and weird things are funny. To me.

But as I tried to catch my breath, I kind of realized that my dad wasn’t letting go. His arms were as tight as steel around me, and I couldn’t remember the last time he’d hugged me.

And I don’t think it was ever this tight.

I found my arms slowly wrapping around him and returning the embrace.

“Katherine’s right.” He stepped back and squeezed my shoulders. “You can’t stay away from her, can you?”

“If you could go back with Katherine and redo things—”

He nodded. “Then you and Jared would’ve been stepbrothers a long, long time ago,” he finished, understanding.

“I won’t live with those regrets. I’m doing this, Dad.” I held my position. “We’ll be fine.”

Fearing the breakup of his marriages or contending with Katherine’s alcoholism in the past were things my father had let get in his way. From him I learned that mistakes can be dealt with. Loss of time can’t.

He slapped me on the back and let out a heavy breath. “So where’s Fallon?”

FALLON

K
atherine had come into the kitchen shortly after me, and I wished I could shrink away.

Until she came up and hugged me.

I held my breath, completely confused.

Yeah, hi
. I’m the girl that nearly threatened to expose your affair on TV, and I’m solely responsible for your boyfriend’s divorce chaos right now. But sure, I’ll take some hugs!

Once she let go, I sank into the barstool as she dug out all of the fixings for sundaes from the refrigerator.

There were lots of questions I wanted to ask her. She was, after all, having an affair with my mother’s husband. I should despise her. Or at the very least dislike her. I definitely shouldn’t respect a home-wrecker.

But for some reason—or many reasons—I felt like my mother was the sleazy one out of the group.

And one thing could not be denied about Katherine. A nearly eighteen-year affair was love.

She was very beautiful, too. And young. Still young enough to have more kids.

“I’m surprised you’re so calm about this.” I picked at my vanilla and caramel sundae.

She shrugged, still scooping a serving for Madoc. All chocolate. “I started young, too,” she conceded. “But unlike me, you and Madoc have an excellent support system.” Yeah, she was right. I still didn’t know where my dad stood on this, and I planned on calling him first thing in the morning. But Madoc and I had means to live, and we had Addie at the very least. We were lucky.

“Aren’t you afraid Jared will get inspired and propose to Tate?” I teased.

Her head fell back as she laughed softly. “No.” She sounded sure.

“No?”

“I think you and Madoc have overcome . . . more mature issues, shall we say? I can understand how marriage feels like the natural next step. Jared and Tate on the other hand? They were in so much heartache for each other for so long that I think they just want to be left alone for a while. They need their calm.”

Just then we heard Madoc’s and his dad’s voices coming down the hall, and Katherine and I turned to see them enter with smiles on their faces.

My stomach pinched with anticipation, but my shoulders relaxed a little. Seeing Jason head straight for me, I pushed my hair behind my ears, taking inventory of everything I was wearing. Jeans and one of my black fitted, long-sleeve T’s, but I was still wearing my Burberry coat. My hair was still in loose curls from the “wedding,” and it still looked good last time I checked, despite the twenty-four hours Madoc and I had spent in bed.

Jason’s eyes were relaxed and welcoming, but he looked like he wasn’t breathing. His expression was pleasant but guarded.

Tipping my chin up, he placed a quick, gentle kiss on my forehead and then took my hand, looking down at the ring.

“Looks good on you. Congratulations.”

Huh?

That’s it? That can’t be it.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, searching the floor for my jaw.

“If you both want some advice from a man who’s about to have two divorces behind him . . .” Jason looked between Madoc and me. “Fight. Fight through everything. Don’t leave the house angry or go to bed mad. Fight until it’s settled. The end of fighting is the beginning of giving up.”

And then he looked at me. “Don’t let him off the hook. You understand?”

I swallowed and gave him a small nod.

“Mr. Caruthers?” I asked.

He raised his eyebrows at me. “Jason.”

“Jason. I owe you an apology. This mess with the divorce—”

“Had to happen, Fallon,” he finished, cutting me off. “It’s fine. Well, it will be fine eventually,” he offered.

With a nod to Katherine, they walked out the way they came in. “Katherine and I are going to her house for the night,” he said. “We’ll see you Friday night at the charity auction.”

And they left.

Madoc plopped down on the stool at the bar. Pulling me in between his legs, he nuzzled my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

“Madoc?” I closed my eyes, leaning in to his spectacular kisses. “Baby, I am sorry, but I think I need to get back to school tomorrow.”

He stopped. Like stopped so fast, I thought he was dead. Taking his head out from my neck, he flashed slightly pissed blue eyes at me.

“Why?” It sounded more like a dare than a question.

“Oh, I got an e-mail from a professor.” I picked up my phone, gesturing with it. “He’s fine with me missing a few classes, but I’m going to miss a guest lecturer tomorrow and a test on Friday. They’re both really important.”

I’d already missed three days of classes.

He finally heaved a sigh. “All right. I’ll crash with Jared, so we don’t have to be separated. You go to class, I’ll work out getting transferred to Northwestern, and we’ll start looking for apartments. We have to be in Chicago for that charity thing on Friday anyway. We’ll leave early in the morning.”

Hanging my arms over his shoulder, I joined my hands behind his neck. “Thank you.”

Sinking into him and his man scent, I took his top lip between my lips, and he took my bottom lip between his. It’s the kiss we always ended up in. All four lips, layered as one as we just stilled and breathed each other in.

Can I just say how much I loved to smell him? I loved that he wore cologne, and he always would. Or else.

“Come on, let’s go shower,” he whispered into my mouth.

I shook my head. “No, you go.”

“No, I mean I want a shower with you.”

I backed away, unbuttoning my coat. “I’ve got other plans. Go get your shower, and find me in ten minutes.”

His forehead wrinkled. “Find you?”

I said nothing more. After about twenty seconds, he realized I was done talking and walked off upstairs grinning.

I smirked to myself. He thinks he’s the only one capable of mischief.

Grabbing some printer paper from the fax machine in the kitchen, I scrawled a riddle to Madoc—knowing how he looooooved riddles—and left it on the bottom of the bannister.

Back in the days when we used to go to war,

I’d wait for the nights when you’d knock on my door.

Now you’ll have to look for me in a room on this floor,

Where the vampires hunt and from your lips I was torn.

Slipping off my coat, I dropped it in on the floor next to the stairs. Taking a few steps away, I started stripping off the rest of my clothes and dropping them at small intervals on the black-and-white tiled floor. My flats, my jeans, my shirt, and then I unclasped my bra and dropped it in on the plush, beige carpet leading into the hallway to the right.

Clad only in my red lace thong, I walked down the dimly lit hallway and entered the theater room, thankful that the chill on my body distracted from the drumming in my chest.

I hated this room.

And I loved this room.

Slowly turning the dial on the wall, I brightened the area only enough to cast a soft glow. As I looked around, I took account that nothing had changed. Not that I expected it to.

This room was used rarely, but it was built for a crowd. Several black leather recliners and two long black leather couches all sat facing a massive flat screen mounted to a wall that was adorned with three smaller screens on each side. Family photos and more sports paraphernalia dressed the coffee-colored walls, and with the cream-colored carpet, everything looked cozy and cavelike in here.

Madoc and I used to watch TV in here a lot, even though we rarely said anything nice to each other. And the only time Jason Caruthers came in here was for Super Bowl Sunday.

Walking up on soft feet, I ran my hand over the cool, smooth black leather of our couch. The one we watched the
Vampire Diaries
on. The one we ignored each other on, despite the thick cloud of
tension between us. And the one we last slept on together before I was taken away.

My womb tightened, and a shock weaved down between my legs, making my jaw tingle with a smile.

This place should be intimidating to me. This was the place I’d been shocked awake by one screaming parent and another one so angry, he couldn’t even speak. My mother had hauled me off the couch nearly naked, wearing only Madoc’s shirt. Jason Caruthers had stood in the hallway, refusing to even make eye contact when I was dragged past him. Madoc was nowhere in sight, and within twenty minutes, I was dressed, packed, and driven away, unknowingly carrying a child inside of me.

This room should’ve been bad news to me, but it wasn’t.

This couch had felt good on my skin, and I remember being so grateful Madoc had talked me out of finally leaving my room that night.

Climbing onto the sofa, I knelt up against the back and rested my forearms over the top. I wanted to see Madoc when he found me. When the door handle started to turn, I had to swallow down my smile and curl my toes to keep my excitement at bay.

As Madoc opened the door, his eyes shot straight to me, and I gave him a sexy, little smirk, hopefully coming off as playful and not the nympho I’d become. He wore black pajama pants that hung low, and his golden skin looked so warm and smooth that my mouth was watering. The little hills of his six-pack flexed, and I trailed my eyes up to his pecs and further, loving the way his kind-of wet hair stuck up like it’d been styled that way. When I got to his face, though, his ever present amusement was gone.

He swallowed and held up the riddle I’d left. “The theater room.”

Why wasn’t he looking at me? His eyes were shifting around.

“I’m . . . a . . .” I stammered. My heart was starting to pump too fast.
Shit!
Was he mad?

“I’m glad you figured it out,” I said, cocking my head to the side, trying to entice him to come in.

“Yeah, well . . . the last line helped.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Look, Fallon. I don’t want to be in here. Can we just go to bed?”

What? Why?

“Madoc.” I rushed to stop him. “I know that this is the last place we saw each other before I left, but we don’t have to be afraid of it.”

I got off the couch and stood up next to the arm, my hands folded in front of me. His steamy blue eyes fell down my body and then trailed timidly back up to my face.

He walked over to me, every hard step vibrating through my veins. Taking me by the back of my neck, he kissed me deep, slipping his tongue in immediately and making every part of me warm.

“Madoc,” I gasped when he pulled me up off the ground. As he cupped my ass, I wrapped my legs around his waist.

I loved that he picked me up.

But I didn’t like that he started walking us to the door.

“We leave in six hours,” he threatened, “and that may or may not be enough time to taste every part of your body. But I want to get started right now. We’re going to bed.”

“Madoc, no!” I shot out my arms and caught the door frame, stopping him in his tracks. “No! I want to be in here.”

He pushed a little, and I tightened my grasp on the door frame against the stretch in my arms. If he wanted to get me out of here, he only had to push a bit more. He was going easy on me.

“Well, I don’t,” he shot back. “Come on. We’re not kids anymore. We’re going to do it in a bed like grown-ups and not on a couch like horny teens.”

“We are horny teens.”

He scowled up at me. “Let go, or I tickle.”

My chest tensed, and I almost closed my arms with the threat, but I didn’t.

Squirming out of his grasp, I lowered myself to the ground and slammed my hands into his chest, pushing him backward. Reaching over, I grabbed the door and threw it shut.

Madoc’s wide eyes locked on mine as I walked the few short steps over to him, backed him up against the back of the sofa, and started to maul him. My hand dug into his hair, my lips kissed him hard and fast on his mouth and then his neck, and my other hand shot down to his thick erection already pulsing in my hand.

“Fallon, Jesus,” Madoc cursed.

But his head fell back as the pleasure overtook him, and he threaded his fingers into my hair as I trailed kisses down his chest and stomach.

Setting down on my knees, I freed him from his pants and, taking him in my hand, I circled my tongue around his tip, my tongue ring bumping with his piercing. He jerked, and his eyes popped open, looking down on me with fierce eyes and bared teeth.

“Fallon,” he warned.

“I want to. Please?” I asked softly.

He squeezed his eyes shut and the grip in my hair loosened.

Coming down on him again, I drew him in long and slow, savoring the smell of body wash that made me so hungry. I swayed my tongue from side to side on the underside of him, so he could feel the ball on my tongue. His cock twitched in my mouth, and I got more eager with the taste of him and his silver. Bringing him in slow, I relaxed my throat, taking in all of him down to the base.

“Babe,” he whispered, sucking in air through his teeth. “You better not have learned this on another guy.”

I drew him out and sucked hard and fast on the tip about ten times before answering. “Tate and I got a book for research last month.”

“Really.” It wasn’t a question. “That’s hot.”

If I knew Madoc, he was probably imagining Tate and me practicing on cucumbers.

She had wanted to do this for Jared, but neither of us had had any experience. Obviously, she wanted to blow his mind, so I suggested watching some porn. She gave me a huge “no,” saying she wasn’t watching seedy videos on the Internet. So we went online and bought a book.

I sucked him all of the way into my mouth again, slowly down to the base, and swirled my tongue around him.

Reaching behind him, I pulled his pants down just below his ass and held his hips for support as I moved faster up and down his length. My roots stung from where he was fisting my hair. He was fully hard—I hope, because I couldn’t take anymore—as I savored the feel of every inch of his skin.

He groaned and inhaled sharp, fast breaths, and I loved the sight of Madoc worked up. With his face pinched and eyes shut, looking like he was in pain, I had a sudden urge to crawl up his body.

My head was pulled away, and Madoc looked violent.

“Stop,” he gasped. “I want you. But not on this couch.”