Busted

He growled her name just before his mouth caught hers in a deep, drugging kiss.

*   *   *

He would move.

At some point.

Back braced against the door, Ressa lying half sprawled, half draped over him, Trey knew he couldn’t stay on that miserable, hard floor for too long, but for that moment, he was just fine. More relaxed than he could remember feeling in too long, and if he had his way, he’d talk her into letting him stay for a while, and he might end up even more relaxed.

Ressa was limp in his arms. Turning his head, he pressed a kiss to her neck.

She sighed, curling one arm around him, hugging him tighter. He worked up the energy to look at her, but she had her eyes closed.

“I’ll move. In a minute. Ten tops.”

“I was thinking in an hour,” she said, her voice rough.

“That sounds good, too.” He kept studying her, hoping she’d look at him. He wanted to see her eyes.

She just traced her fingers along the tattoo on his lower abdomen, a slightly ticklish sensation. It made his skin prickle and even that light touch had his body stirring. He could see himself flipping her onto her back, sliding between her thighs, burying his dick inside her, but for now . . .

All he wanted was this.

This very moment.

*   *   *

“You didn’t call tonight.”

The minute she said it, she wanted to jerk it back. She was still half-sprawled against him and her body ached in the sweetest way, and instead of inviting him to her bed, instead of pressing her mouth to his neck, then moving down, instead of doing any number of wonderful things, she had to go and say that.

The last thing she wanted to do was sound like a needy, desperate woman. Except she felt terribly needy and desperate right now.

Trey had texted her. She could have called him back, except she’d been too busy letting her cousin mess her head up. Again.

But the words were already out, hanging there between them and there was nothing she could say or do to unsay the words.

All Trey did was skim a hand down her side. “I . . . uh . . . well, you probably need to be prepared for this kind of thing if you’re going to get involved with a writer. We don’t always live on planet Earth. I kind of got lost in another world and didn’t surface until after seven. Travis was there to take care of Clayton and . . .” He shrugged. “It was the first time I’ve been able to lose myself like that in a while. I was going to call but they were watching a movie and Clayton . . .”

Now she felt like a pathetic loser. She’d been feeling sorry for herself and brooding, while he was simply spending some time with his brother and his son. “Hush. I just . . . I missed you. I should have called you. Nothing was stopping me.”

Except the fact that I’m a mess.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to talk to you. I sent you that text, but you didn’t answer and I thought, hey, I could always call tomorrow. But then I . . . well. I wanted to see you.” He rubbed his cheek against hers. That simple caress made her heart melt. “I miss you. Seeing you a couple of times a week doesn’t feel like enough.”

It made her heart melt a little.

At the same time, it made her heart break a little.

Because she remembered why she hadn’t texted.

And the fear that had rushed through her when she’d seen him at the door. She’d thought he was here because Travis had dug into her family’s past, that Trey knew.

She’d kept this from him. She couldn’t anymore. Once she dropped this on him, would he feel comfortable watching Neeci? Oh, he’d probably do it, because he was just that kind of guy. But she wouldn’t ask him.

She could already imagine what would happen—she’d seen it play out several times once it had happened with a guy she’d really cared about.

Nobody had ever mattered as much as Trey.

But she couldn’t put it off anymore.

I have to tell him.

Tucking her head against his shoulder, she barely managed to keep from clutching at him, holding tight.

“Can I stay?” Trey murmured, unaware of the nerves already tangling inside her. “At least for a while.”

She swallowed. It didn’t keep her voice from being husky when she answered, “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

Then, before she could chicken out, she finished in a rush. “I think there’s something I need to tell you anyway.”

*   *   *

Trey felt like he’d just gotten off one of the coasters at Busch Gardens—he’d gone up, then down, then up . . . and he was about to crash down again, he knew it. The adrenaline high he’d been riding on was about to give out, too.

They were downstairs now, in her kitchen, because she’d wanted a glass of wine. She’d offered him one, but his mind was already spi

He wasn’t going to push his luck, considering the look in Ressa’s eyes.

She stood on the far side of the room, a glass of the red wine in one hand, her gaze on the floor. She opened her mouth, closed it. Then abruptly, she said, “Let’s go back to my room.”

Once there, he gathered up his clothes, tugging on his jeans. He had a feeling this wasn’t going to go well and if he was right, he wanted to be able to just get dressed and leave.

He didn’t know what she was going to say, but it wasn’t going to be fun.

He’d seen that look too many times—it was the look that said, I’ve got bad news and you’re not going to like it.

Besides, bad news and being naked just didn’t mix well together. There was something about being dressed that just made hard news a little more tolerable, he decided.

Taking any kind of bad news naked was just a double punch to the gut.

Apparently, she agreed. She pulled a black robe over the sexy blue sleep shirt she wore, but she left the robe untied and the black framed her goddess-like body as she started to pace.

“I . . .” She pursed her lips and blew out a breath. “Look, this isn’t the easiest thing to tell you. It’s not something I generally talk about much. There’s not really a graceful way to work this into a conversation. If all we’d had was Jersey, then it wouldn’t matter. But now . . .”

He just waited as she looked down, her shoulders slumped, the coils she’d twisted into her hair falling to shield her face.

Slowly, she looked up and took another breath, deeper this time, like she was gathering herself.

Her eyes were solemn.

She looked like she was braced for a blow.

What is this? he wondered.

A taut, heavy silence stretched out, and then finally she threw the words out, almost like a challenge.

“My cousin is in prison . . . and it’s my fault she’s in there.”

Chapter Twenty-three

Trey just stared at her.

She crossed her arms over her chest and started to tap her foot. “Did you hear me?”

“Yeah.” He hooked his hand over his neck, rubbed the muscles there for a minute, and then he stood up, moving to stand in front of her. “Is this Neeci’s mom?”

“Yes.” She lifted her chin, almost in challenge.

“Okay.” Then he scowled. “Well, I guess it’s not okay—it’s got to be hell on you all, but . . . I don’t see what this has to do with us.”

She just stared at him for a long moment and then she tossed half the glass of wine back, like it was pure moonshine. “Are you serious? Didn’t you hear me?” she asked when she was done. She thumped the glass down with so much force, he was surprised it didn’t break. “My cousin is in jail—we were like sisters and I am the reason she’s in there and you don’t see what it has to do with us?”