Cuffed by His Charm: A Dirty Little Secrets Novel Page 4

  Determined to do the only thing that I think will make us both feel better, I stride forward into my fifteen-hundred square foot apartment. When I’d bought the historic building years back to open the first O’Keefe’s Pub, this floor of the building housed four bachelor apartments. That income had helped me when I’d first gotten started. When I could, I renovated this entire floor, taking out the four apartments and making them one large space. Sure, now I could live in higher luxury, but this is home. Everything from the exposed red brick walls around the bank of windows to the sitting area in front of the big screen television with black leather couches to the galley kitchen off to the left was all my style.

  “You’ll have to point me to the spare room,” she says, following behind me.

  I walk into the large open-concept living room and enter the kitchen lit by pocket lighting. “First, we drink and then we sleep.” When I reach the black cabinets to grab a couple of glasses, I glance over my shoulder to find McKenna surveying my apartment.

  Maybe she always wondered what my place looked like when she manned the bar down below. Bringing her here was a line I’d never crossed before. Too tempting. Too dangerous. I didn’t trust myself where it came to her being anywhere near my bed. Fuck, I didn’t trust myself now.

  Tense and lost in my thoughts about how to fix all this with her, I grab two tumblers out of the cabinet, then reach for the whiskey resting on the white marble countertop. After adding some ice from the machine in the freezer, I pour a shot and hand the glass to her just as she settles into a chair across from me on the other side of the kitchen island.

  She downs the drink in one swallow, as do I.

  Silence settles as I refill our glasses. While sipping my drink I notice she’s watching me over the rim of her tumbler, and I sigh at the odd discomfort between us. That’s not something we’ve ever felt. The comfort level I feel with her is what’s always made her so special. I want her to feel comfortable here, and although today got off to a bad start I attempt to offer a truce. “Tell me about your brother,” I say gently, easing us back into our long talks which have always been easy.

  She lowers her glass to the countertop looking very guarded. “Why?”

  “You’ve never talked about him before.” I lean against the cabinet, putting some distance between us, letting her breathe. “Or even mentioned that you have a brother.”

  “That’s because he’s a part of my life that I don’t want to share.” She moves around to the side of the island and slides onto the black leather stool, her hands hugging her glass. “He’s a lot of trouble for me.”

  I swirl the whiskey in the glass, the ice clanging, then take a sip. “Why is he your trouble?”

  “He’s younger.”

  I raise my brows at that little revelation. “You’re only twenty-six, so how young is he?”

  “Twenty-three.”

  “He’s still a grown man, so again, why is he your trouble?”

  “Because he just is.” She shrugs before taking another long sip then staring down at her glass. “I’ve always kept an eye on him, helped him out when I could.”

  Not surprising. That’s the McKenna I know. Which only makes me more ashamed that I doubted her loyalty and her character. Weight presses against my chest as I ask, “Where’s your mother in all this, or your father for that matter?” I take another sip, further ashamed I don’t know these things about her.

  “We don’t have parents.”

  I swallow the whiskey then frown at her. “You’ve never had parents in your life?”

  “I once had a mother in my life, but I never knew my father.” She finally looks at me. The strength in her gaze is what’s always endeared McKenna to me. It’s a real honest beauty, and it’s shining bright as she adds, “My mother was an alcoholic, a violent one.”

  “Now that’s quite the contradiction since you work at a bar.” I can’t help but point out.

  She gives a small but important smile. “Once I heard that it’s always best not to run from the Devil, but face him straight on; so that’s what I do every day. I drink and work in the belly of the beast, so to speak, to ensure I can’t be controlled by those things . . . so I don’t fear them.”

  I part my lips to respond but shut them, amazed by her. Christ, I’m stunned by her. When I see that she’s nervously awaiting a response from me, I force one and smile. “A good motto to have, I’m sure.”

  She nods and then takes another quick sip of her whiskey before adding, “Anyways, like I said, I did have a mother for a short time. When I was six years old, my grandmother came to visit us in Nashville—that’s where I was born—and she saw the conditions we were living in, and well, she took us with her that day.”

  The thought of a little McKenna being mistreated tightens my hand around the glass. Knowing her history takes all the anger I felt toward her earlier and places it onto myself. She’s been through so much. “Your grandmother sounds like she was a good woman. I take it since you haven’t mentioned her before, she’s passed on?”

  McKenna nods and sighs heavily. “Gran was the most amazing woman in life and even in death. When she died, she left us the house, her money, and because of her, she gave us a way better life.”

  All of this makes me dislike her brother more. “Do you still see your mother?”

  She shakes her head, swallowing her drink. “She died.”

  “When?”

  “Three months after Gran brought us to San Francisco.”

  I’m fighting against reaching out to comfort her. But I realize in the injustice of it all, I’ve been another person in McKenna’s life who’s hurt and disappointed her. And now her words to me in the bar make total sense: What have I ever done to deserve to be shit on all the time? I’ve done what every other person in her life has done to her, and I hate myself for that. “I’m so very sorry to hear that she passed.”

  “There’s no need for you to be sorry,” McKenna says without coldness or warmth, just matter of fact. “It’s for the better, to be honest. My mother would have affected our lives for years if she’d been around. Her death was our freedom.”

  I squeeze my glass harder, stopping the shaking of my hands. Nonetheless, I regard a woman who’s unjaded, even if I think she’s entitled to be. “So, then, I take it your brother didn’t follow you on the straight and narrow path?”

  She takes another sip then gives a dry laugh. “Not exactly. Back in high school, he got in with the wrong crowd, no matter how hard I tried to keep him out of it. Once he discovered how to earn money illegally, the legal path didn’t seem so interesting anymore.” She finishes her drink and waves me off when I motion for more. “Deep down, Evan’s a good guy, but a couple years ago he got into gambling. And well, like I’ve told you, addiction runs high in our family.”

  “So, you do suspect this is all about money?”

  “Seeing what our present situation is, I’m guessing so.” She half-shrugs, resting her arms on the countertop. “A year ago, I paid off thousands of dollars of his debt. It’s honestly disturbing how fast he can get into owing more money.”

  I know she’s not rich. I also know what I pay her, and what she takes home in tips. “You took out a loan?” I guess.

  She nods. “The first time I paid off his debt, I had to use my savings that Gran left me. The second time, I got a loan.” She rises and moves to the sink, dumping the ice cubes, then placing the glass into the dishwasher.

  When she turns back to me, all I see is how I’ve wronged her—how what I’ve done caused more pain to a woman who doesn’t deserve any of it. Shame is a cold thing lacing through my veins. “I think that’s enough questions for tonight,” I tell her, needing time to make right all that I’ve made wrong. “There’s a spare bedroom, first door to the right.” I gesture down the hallway past the kitchen. “There are towels in the bathroom if you’d like a shower or a bath. You won’t be bothered in there.”

  She gives a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Than
ks.”

  When she goes to walk by me, I realize I can’t let her. Not yet.

  “McKenna,” I say, and she stops, looks at me. “Before you go, I want you to know that I’m more sorry than I’ve ever been in my life for being another person who has hurt you.” I pause and sigh, aching to reach out and stroke her face, bring her close where I can keep her warm. “You’re so damn good, so damn sweet, and you deserve happiness.”

  She’s silent, staring at me, and that silence makes it impossible for me to hide the misery tearing me apart. Once, I controlled my world. I had a handle on everything. Now that’s changed because of the tabloids and McKenna’s brother. Most of all, I hate the distance I’ve put between us, and I hate that as my life spirals out of control, she’s involved because of me.

  “I don’t expect you to ever forgive me for doubting you,” I continue, lost in her soulful eyes. “But I hope one day you’ll understand that while I’m furious at your brother for what he’s done, I’m sorry that you’re involved.” I step closer, but not too close, cautious of hurting her further. “This morning, I thought that would be my only chance to ever be close to you. I wanted that. To touch you . . . to be near you . . . to finally have you . . .I needed that.” I pause, bleeding out my truth in ways I’ve never done before. “I needed it so much when I thought I had to say goodbye to you.”

  Tears well in her eyes but I can’t stop. I push on because she needs to hear this. Not to forgive me but because I can’t let her go to sleep thinking any of this should fall on her shoulders. “While it’s easy to justify that this morning happened because I thought you had betrayed me,” I add gently, “I should have known better. I should have stood by you, not blamed you. I should have known that you never would have done this, because it’s not the person you are. Why I couldn’t see that earlier, I don’t know. Why I trusted Ryder’s evidence instead of thinking it through and knowing that you could never have done this will forever be my greatest regret.”

  I turn, ready to give her the space and freedom I know she needs, when her soft voice flows across me. “You must hate me.”

  McKenna

  Gabe’s back is to me, head bowed and his shoulders visibly lift and fall with his deep breath. When he turns to face me, his eyes are haunted. “Please tell me how you came to the conclusion that I hate you from what I said?”

  “My brother did this to you.” I voice the thoughts I can’t run away from, forcing myself to talk instead of doing what’s instinctual for me, and that’s to shut down. “He did this to all of you. For weeks now, I’ve watched your friends go through hell. I’ve watched you go through hell. You trusted me with the code to your bar and because I trusted someone completely untrustworthy look what happened.”

  “You are not your brother, Kenna,” is Gabe’s reply.

  Tears well from frustration with this whole situation. He hasn’t called me by my nickname all day, only reminding me how fucked up things are. Neither Gabe nor I is at fault here, and yet we’re in the path of destruction.

  I’m not sure if it’s the warmth of the whiskey or the familiar warmth rising in his eyes, but I see now that we were both hurt. Gabe, first. Me, second. In the end, we’re both standing here utterly broken and bared because of what my brother has done to us.

  I fight back the emotion, knowing if we don’t talk now there will be no coming back from this. Ever. “Even if I’m not my brother, he’s the reason the world now knows your secrets.” Not that I make a habit of reading the tabloids—I have enough dirty little secrets of my own to worry about—but gossip in the bar was that the tabloids hounding Gabe was the reason for his terrible mood lately. “I should never have let this happen.” I pause. Then I say what’s really on my mind, “Stuff like this keeps happening over and over again, like I’m in this horrible time warp that won’t end. All the people who end up hurt are the ones who shouldn’t be hurt at all. But this is because I can’t say goodbye to my brother. I trust him again and again, letting him in, when I know, deep down, he’s going to fuck everything up again.”

  Gabe moves closer, but keeps his distance as he obviously reads between the lines of all the things I’m not saying but feeling. “You are not responsible for this, McKenna. Your brother broke your trust. That’s on him, not you. Please tell me you know that.”

  All I know is the distance between us is killing me burns across my heart, yet the words to explain properly don’t come. Instead, I speak another truth, “It’s not something we can ignore either. If I’d never trusted my brother when he came to visit me that night, never let him see me entering in the security code, this wouldn’t have happened. If I’d never trusted him . . .” The coldness in the air between us is so foreign my tears spill over. The iciness now breaking into all the heat I usually feel around him.

  “Goddammit,” he snaps.

  He’s suddenly there, his arms in a vise grip around me, and I feel it then. It’s there in the tremble of his body, in his strong grip. He wants to touch me. He wants to own me. He wants to make me his for right now. And there’s nothing I need more than him right now. The strength, and the heat of his body engulf me, and the tears I’ve been fighting break free, raining down my cheeks. Because all of this is unfair.

  And I know neither of us knows how to fix all that’s gone wrong.

  He finally leans away, brushes the tears off my cheeks and murmurs, “Please tell me what you’re thinking.”

  In the depths of his eyes, I see so much. Regret, anger, pain, rage. It’s all there, breaking me apart with equal fervor. Because this isn’t how we should’ve started. “I thought today . . .” I swallow the words, unable to say them aloud.

  He sighs, eyes soft, thumbs stroking my cheeks. “You thought you had me.”

  I nod, my breath catching on a sob.

  “You do have me.” His hands tighten around my face, the hard planes of his body quivering against mine, voice lowering, “For Christ sakes, McKenna, if you want me, take all of me.”

  “I don’t only want you, Gabe,” I speak my truth. “I need you.” Because right now nothing in my world is right. Not with Evan missing. Not with my steady life suddenly in shambles. Gabe has always been a constant, all that warmth a much-needed necessity in my life.

  He draws in a deep breath, staring intently before addressing me. “But . . . what I did . . . I can’t touch you again, Kenna, not so soon . . .”

  “You thought you lost me,” I whisper, stepping closer, offering myself. “You were desperate and scrambling to right your world, just like I’m scrambling to right mine. We were both burned today. Please, Gabe, please don’t let Evan break us.”

  Everything changes in his expression then, and I’m looking at the Gabe I know. All the distance between us is sucked away by his heat. The walls he put up, protecting himself and me, come crumbling down. He lays himself bare, and it’s what I need to recover, because it’s emotion he’s been hiding, too. Today we were raw in ways we’d never been raw. We’d been bared, then broken, and now reborn into something we weren’t before because the urgency to be together is there, and these were truths I simply believe wholeheartedly when his lips seal across mine.

  His kiss is hot and potent, and everything I need. His hands are tangled in my hair, running over my back, stroking my arms, touching me until I’m wiggling against him, begging for more. He angles my head, deepening the kiss, and he drags a hand down over my hip until he’s reaching between my legs, cupping my sex. Teasing me for what’s to come, he squeezes his hand, and I moan, hot desire pulsing over me. His lips brush against my pulse point, and I sense his grin as he murmurs, “I feel you shaking, beautiful.”

  I don’t wait for an invitation or for him to act first; I’m so desperate to feel something besides pain and fear that I reach for his pants, unbuckle his belt, thrusting those and his boxer briefs down. He groans when I reach for his cock and stroke him. Both of his hands move to my ass, squeezing my cheeks, but I want to own him. At least, for as long as he’ll a
llow. Frantic to control a world falling apart around me, I push on his chest until he steps back against the kitchen counter, one hand on my hip, the other resting on the island next to him.

  One brow arches, a sexy smile on his mouth, as I eagerly stroke his hard shaft. With that grin in place, he grabs my shirt and lifts it over my head, then pulls the cups of my bra down, exposing my breasts with none too gentle hands. He leans down, sucks a nipple to the roof of his mouth before releasing me. “All right, McKenna,” he says gruffly, “we’ll do this your way for a little while.” He places his other hand on the counter, obviously agreeing to let me have my fun. “Go on, love, play.”

  Giving a smile of my own, I lower to my knees right there in the kitchen and stare up at him, holding the tip of his cock near my mouth. God he’s big, and his cock is nothing short of beautiful, the perfect width to length, and oh-so-perfectly hard, making me feel wanted and desired.

  I lick just the tip, and his smile darkens a little as he strokes his knuckles across my cheek. “It’s there for you, sweetheart. Don’t make me wait.”

  I open my mouth and take him in deep, tasting the saltiness of his pre-cum against my tongue. His groan slides over me as I play, exactly like I want to, teasing him, pleasing him with swirls of my tongue. His balls, his shaft, the tip of his thick cock are mine to enjoy, and I taste all of him, until I feel the tremble of his legs, the telling sign he’s had enough of my teasing.

  With a deep chuckle rising goosebumps on my arms, he leans down and cups my face, kisses my mouth as passionately as I sucked his cock. Then he backs away, and I’m on my feet again. He’s turned me around, my arms resting against the island in the middle of his kitchen. He’s kissing my neck, opening my jeans until they’re down to my ankles, and I’m kicking them away. Overwhelmed by the intense presence at my back, I’m on my tiptoes, and he’s sliding his touch over my hips. His fingers tuck into my panties, and soon they’re gone, too. My eyes roll into the back of my head as he’s kissing my bottom, nipping at my cheek.