Decadent (Wicked Lovers #2)

Damn, the man could flat out kiss. The finesse…wow. The way he raked his tongue across the roof of her mouth sent a shiver through her. Then he nibbled erotically on her lip. A tilt of his head later, and the kiss changed, deepened, as he swept through. He had full command of her mouth now, and she tingled, felt…taken. It would be easy to melt against him. But it would give him false hope.

She pulled away. “I’ll be leaving in the morning.” Luc’s fingers tightened in her hair, and he looked like he wanted to argue.

Instead, he gritted his teeth and released her. “Where will you go?”

“I need to check in with my brothers. My dad should be coming home from the hospital soon, and they’ll bring him to Logan’s place when he’s released. They’ll need my help. My place isn’t too far from his, and my poor neglected apartment…

Bet all my houseplants are dead.”

“Will you leave me a number? I want to be with you. I want to be as involved as you’ll let me.”

She smiled. “Sure. I have no doubt I’ll need a hand to hold along the way, and neither Logan nor Hunter can be classified as warm guys. It’ll be fitting if you’re involved. Even if we’re not married, there’s still a little bit of you inside me, and I’d never take that from you. Ever.”

Three a.m. Shit.

After five hours away and a half-dozen whiskey shots chased by a handful of beers, Deke still couldn’t outrun the barrage of emotions shredding his guts.

He quietly let himself into the house, bracing himself for the sight of Kimber in Luc’s arms, in his bed. Better get used to that. Once they got married, he’d be confronted with it—and know exactly what he was missing—for the rest of his fucking life. Unless everything that had happened with the baby, the arguments, the revelation, had driven Kimber over the edge of sanity. Panic flashed like the stab of a cold blade into his heart.

No, Luc wouldn’t let that happen. Luc would save her. Even though he couldn’t father children, of the two of them, he was the whole man. Even so, knowing that they were a couple, that Luc had the right to touch her, stroke her, fuck her… God, it was going to eat him up.

It’s for the best. Suck it up and get over it.

Swallowing, Deke set his car keys in the foyer, locked the front door behind him, and started the long walk down the hall toward the bedrooms. Every step felt like one closer to his execution. His gut twisted in tight knots, strangling his stomach into something painful. His palms began to sweat.

Oh, hell. The house seemed still, but what if they were having sex? Or were naked and entangled and had obviously had sex tonight? You’d better get used to it…

He reached the open door to Luc’s room, drew in a deep breath, and braced himself for the worst. Instead, he found his cousin sprawled out across his king-sized bed in an obviously restless sleep. Alone.

Relief and fear both sucker punched him at the same time. Where was she? His knees buckled, and he tore down the hall toward his room.

Please be there. Please be okay.

Deke rounded the corner and charged into his room. And came to a dead stop.

Wearing some pale-colored tank top that showed the graceful slope of her shoulders, Kimber slept in his bed, with her head on his pillow, clutching one of his T-shirts in her hands.

He braced himself against the doorframe and stared at the gentle rise and fall of her chest, visible by the streetlamp’s glow slanting through his bedroom window.

A million thoughts assailed him at once.

Had she turned Luc’s marriage proposal down? Deke had no doubt that his cousin had issued one. Maybe she hadn’t answered. Or maybe Luc had given her last night to deal and would ask her today. Yeah, that seemed likely. And maybe Kimber had stuck around just to give him the ass chewing he deserved for getting her pregnant in the first place, then handling it so badly. Whatever the reason, he didn’t deserve her and he knew it.

How had life gotten so fucked up? No, life wasn’t; he was. And that wasn’t going to change. It was what it was, and Kimber was better off with Luc. Even if seeing the two of them together was going to kill him. She whimpered in her sleep.

Pushing aside all the reasons he should leave her alone and let Luc take care of her now, Deke stumbled across the room, to the edge of the bed.

A glance at her red nose and the silvery paths down her cheeks told him she’d been crying. Damn, he’d rather be punched in the stomach for a week by the heavyweight champ than see that. And despite everything, he wanted nothing more than to crawl up in his bed beside her, tuck her against him, and sleep. Then wake slowly with her, stretching together, kissing, maybe…

No. It wasn’t going to happen. Unless Luc participated, there was no way Deke could make love to Kimber. Would it make a difference if she was already pregnant? Maybe…but he wasn’t sure. Maybe the mental crutch of the ménage was just too embedded into his psyche. Even if he could make love to Kimber alone while she was pregnant, what about after the baby was born?

She didn’t want to be shared anymore, and Deke couldn’t picture calling Luc again to join the party. After last night…there wouldn’t be any more parties with him and Luc and this luscious woman—or any other. With Kimber, they’d shared their last. He’d come to that conclusion after about his fourth beer. He’d have to find someone else to share with and make sure every woman between them was utterly meaningless. But after Kimber, he didn’t think the last part would be a problem. Eventually. The utter disinterest in sex he’d experienced with Alyssa wouldn’t happen forever, right?

He was also going to stop being a chicken shit and get a vasectomy. Ensure there’d be no more issues. Ensure he never fucked up another woman’s life again.

And he was going to have to move. Leave Tyler, Texas. He couldn’t see Luc and Kimber together day after day, year after year. After he ensured that she didn’t take the pill-bottle way out of life, leaving was the only way he could deal. And there was no fucking way he could watch them build a life together.

Even now, when he knew all was well and that he should leave them, he couldn’t make himself walk away from her. Instead, he knelt by the bed. Kimber’s sleep-lax hand was right in front of him, and he took it gently so he didn’t wake her. But even he felt the desperation in his touch as he brought her fingers closer to his lips and pressed a bittersweet kiss to the back of her hand, trying not to crush her.

God, he loved her. Somehow, even when he’d worked for the Colonel and she’d been seventeen, some part of him had suspected even then that she’d be his weakness. Now, not only was he going to have to do without her, but know she belonged to a man he regarded as a brother. And the sad fact was, Kimber was better off without him.

With that harsh realization, emotion rattled in his chest, exploded inside him.

Damn, he hated this shit, but he couldn’t stop it. The sting of tears attacked his eyes with the subtlety of an ice pick. Then they were falling and wouldn’t stop. Deke drew in great big lungfuls of air, trying to get on top of the tears and shove them back inside. But his breath stuttered as he tried to inhale. He closed his eyes as liquid heat poured down his face and he gripped Kimber’s hand in his.

What was he going to do without her? Looking back, she’d given him her complete trust, her tart sense of humor, her ability to be tough when necessary and soft when he’d needed it. He loved that feminine way she asserted herself, the way she could make him hard with just a smile.

Deke buried his face in the blankets next to her thigh and let the sobs happen.

Quietly. He didn’t want to wake her. Didn’t want anyone to know. But, oh fuck, he was bawling like a goddamned baby, and he couldn’t stop. His life had been one giant screwup. For years, Heather had been top on his list of regrets. Now he could add Kimber. She was going to hurt like hell for years to come, and he had no idea how to make the situation any better. Except have the most rational discussion they could about the child growing in her belly, then leave her in peace.

CHAPTER 19

In Luc’s car, Kimber floored her way into Dallas by eight that morning, the same tiny suitcase in hand that she’d left with. Only now, she had a broken heart.

When she’d awakened shortly before five a.m. alone to find Deke crashed on the sofa in their “man den,” Kimber couldn’t help but get the picture. After all, she’d been sleeping in his bed, which was big enough for the two of them if they cuddled.

Instead, he’d chosen the leather couch at the other end of the house. Kimber didn’t need him to draw her a picture; she understood the implication perfectly.

Sniffling as she eased the car from one highway, across the interchange, to another, Kimber turned on the radio and determined to think of the future—

without dissolving into tears.

She was going to have a baby. She was going to be a good mother, a nurse, live near her family. Her he-men father and brothers would no doubt hit the ceiling when she eventually announced that she was having a baby and not getting married. They were horribly old-fashioned. But they’d get over it. If they insisted on beating the crap out of someone for knocking her up and not “doing right by her,” she’d simply point out that Luc had proposed and she’d refused. They’d have plenty to say about that. The fact Deke was actually the baby’s father was none of their business.

As she approached home, she called Logan. She didn’t really want to deal with him, but he was the information source about her dad and his release from the hospital, especially since

Hunter was still behaving with all the warmth of a glacier. He answered on the first ring and barked out, “Kimber?”

Lord, spare her caller ID. “Morning.”

“Where are you?”

“Nearly back to my apartment.”

“Really? You finally found your brain and left the tagteaming twosome in Tyler?” No, she’d finally gotten in over her head and ruined the lives of two perfectly wonderful men, one of whom she’d never get over. “It’s over. By my choice. Let’s leave it there.”

She’d tell him about the baby later. When she was stronger. When Dad was better. When they weren’t on the phone. And not until she was absolutely ready to face them all.

“Glad to hear it.”

His tone intimated that she’d finally done the right thing and hadn’t it been obvious. No. She felt wretched, and Logan’s attitude stomped all over her last nerve.

“Why? What did you have against them?”

“You’re kidding me, right? You, of all people, should know exactly why I wouldn’t want those kinky bastards anywhere near my sister. I want to throw up every time I think about the things they probably did to you—simultaneously, no doubt. The same things they’ve done to dozens of other—”

“Kinky?” Oh, Logan always knew the perfect way to hop up her temper, and she shouldn’t take the bait but… “That’s rich coming from you. Do you have to whip a woman and cause her pain to feel man enough to have sex with her?”

“Fuck,” he snarled. “No. That’s low, damn it! And it has nothing to do with”—he took a deep breath—“We’re off topic. You left them and you aren’t going back?” Kimber felt more like arguing, but figured that hitting his sex life was every bit as low as him hitting hers. In both cases, it was uncalled for. The realization deflated her. In the wake of her anger, she didn’t feel anything but crushed and damn tired.

“Right.”

She parked the car and collected her mail from its overstuffed box.

“Sorry,” Logan finally muttered. “I know you’re an adult. Deke and Luc were your mistakes to make. I’ll try to stop being a prick.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry, too. How’s Dad? When is he coming home from the hospital?” she asked as she let herself into her apartment. It was stuffy and had that closed-in smell. Though the morning was muggy, she opened a few windows for air.

“It’s looking like tomorrow. We’ll get some more test results back today, which will give the doctors a clearer picture of his condition.” He paused. “Dad would appreciate a visit.”

“Now that the assbite who set the bomb is locked up and off the streets, I’m free to see him.”

“I don’t know how much longer they’re going to be able to hold Ronald Fusco Jr.

That’s his name. Dad helped send him to the big house about ten years ago. Ronny keeps saying he didn’t set the bomb. There’s no physical evidence tying him to it.

There is a shitload of evidence to support the fact he was harassing Dad, but nothing more concrete.”

Alarm jumped under Kimber’s skin. “Do the police still think he set the bomb?”

“Depends on who you talk to. Besides, doesn’t matter what they think, only what the DA can prove. Right now, they don’t even have enough evidence to get an indictment, much less go to trial. The guy might walk.”