The Perfect Wrong, page 20
I said enough.
I told her it was for them. The fallen.
Comrades in arms, men just like me who were only a little less lucky—victims of a fate I tempt every time I accept another mission with Enguard Tactical.
But I also told her it’s who I am.
It’s what I do.
It’s how I make sense of myself and my place in this clown car of a world.
It’s how I forget my rotten-ass days with a mother who always used me as a tool and the gaping chasm of civilian life built on the roofs of blood, sweat, and screams.
“You remember what I said last night? My ink, my life,” I tell her. “I was done with walls years ago, Delia. I don’t hide or water myself down for strangers. If that makes me rude, so be it. You know exactly who you’re dealing with.”
“Do I?” She quirks an eyebrow. “I guess you gave me a pretty good idea of what it’s like being you, and everything you deal with. But there’s a lot I still don’t know, Chris.”
I shrug, tucking into my filet mignon. “Just ask. You ought to know there’s no need for shyness after everything we’ve done this week.”
I lean in when I say the last part, grabbing her hand across the table.
Her fingers squeeze mine slowly.
That blush on her cheeks strokes me hard enough to drive nails.
I meant what I said, though.
The girl has no reason to be shy when we’ve been fucking like maniacs.
She holds her glass up to her lips for a long time, drinking slowly, like she’s stalling to find the right words.
“Okay, so, um, let me ask you this... Why is Evie such a bitch?”
The way she blurts it out makes me drop my fork.
It echoes loudly on my plate as I laugh.
“You’re asking the guy who’s wondered that his whole life,” I say, trying not to sound bitter. “If you’re worried about my ma, give me something specific.”
Bullshit, I know exactly what she’s asking.
Only, my mother is the last thing I want to dwell on during our last night in paradise.
This is supposed to be our night, even if I know that’ll only make a clean break harder once we head home.
“I’m just worried about Dad. We know they made a big mistake and it’s probably on life support...but he’s so blind, Chris. He doesn’t see trouble until it smacks him in the face.” She looks down and sighs before meeting my eyes again. “I’m afraid she’s already trying to screw him over, one way or another. I just haven’t figured out why.”
I stare at her, trying to comprehend why she gives a shit.
Our parents’ problems aren’t mine and they shouldn’t be hers either.
Then Delia clears her throat. “I didn’t tell you before, but I think she knows about us. Evie came after me one day—she warned me to stay away from you.”
Fuck, my appetite dies while I’m chewing the most buttery meat I’ve ever tasted.
I reach for my glass, sucking down the last of my wine and refilling it before I answer, needing the fire to calm the heavy ache in my gut.
“I don’t give a solitary shit what she says and neither should you. Ma’s always been a selfish, greedy, train wreck of a human. You’re right to worry if your old man’s got no backbone—that makes him easy pickings if she goes off the rails again.” I bite my tongue because I want to say when. “You could do the smart thing. Tell him to break it off now, throw her out, and pray to God he’s got himself an ironclad prenup before it’s too late. I’m the only one who ought to be stuck dealing with her bullshit because we’re blood.”
She shakes her head sadly, staring at her plate.
A waiter stops by to ask how we’re doing, and I wave him off with a few words.
“I can’t,” she says. “Dad thinks he’s in love—and maybe he actually is. That’s what makes this so hard. I haven’t seen him like this since before Mom walked out. Who am I to come along and call him delusional? He’s a grown man. He just... he has to leave her on his own. It’s not my place to push him out of a relationship, however weird or toxic it may be.”
My jaw tightens.
I could say a million things, all of them harsh.
Right now, it’s awfully hard to give a ghost of a shit about what Bruce Burr feels.
If he’d man up, sprout a pair, and leave the tornado bearing down on him alone, then maybe I wouldn’t have to amputate this sweet girl from my life the instant we’re back in California.
It’s going to be hell.
I want to camp out at the Enguard office if I have to, rather than share a wall with her night after night, knowing I can’t just step into her room and—
Fuck.
That house is a certified torture chamber, no matter how big and grand.
If she’s only a room away, I won’t think about anything except the infinite ways I want to keep kissing, touching, and fucking her senseless.
All the special wrongs that are way beyond anything we can condense into one final breathless night here in the city of lights.
“Princess, you all right?” I squeeze her hand again, demanding her eyes.
She gives me her honey-brown gaze so slowly it hurts.
“I’m just trying to figure this out, Chris. I know you’ve been dealing with it for years and I shouldn’t whine. But like, what’s her deal? Was she always like this? Can you tell me anything?”
I stab the last bite of filet into my mouth and chew like a wolf savoring its last bleeding morsel.
Where do I even start?
What the fuck do I say about a woman who’s been spiraling her entire life?
Who keeps spinning to new lows like a leaf down a canyon after blowing a fortune on her demons and an army of specialists trying to hold them back?
“Ma can’t handle failure. That’s her deal,” I say slowly. “Ever since her career stumbled and went to hell, she can’t stand getting old. She thinks she has nothing to look forward to besides a few more wrinkles and a few more exes—and maybe she’s right—assuming she doesn’t OD first.”
Delia’s mouth drops.
Her eyes swell with empathy.
“Don’t give me that look. I’m not asking for tears,” I say coldly. “I spent my last two summers home trying to get her off the junk for good before I joined Enguard and decided I was done. You can’t help folks who don’t give a flying fuck about saving themselves—and Evie stopped caring when I was five.”
“Jesus,” she says softly. “I read about her, you know. Before her career fell apart, she was pretty normal, wasn’t she?”
I roll my shoulders again, wishing this goddamn conversation would end.
“How should I know? I was a kid. I’m not sure I blame everything on her acting going to pieces, either. Her life went to shit after my old man walked out.” I pause, shocked that I’m even telling her that much. I sigh and continue. “She divorced his ass because he was no good for her—too poor, too savage, too violent. She wasn’t wrong. Ma always wanted a Hollywood gem to make her shine brighter. Some marriages in entertainment are damn near arranged. Honestly, I’m surprised it took her as long as it did to figure it out. Why she ever thought it could work with some biker from a sex club, I’ll never know.”
Delia almost chokes on her wine.
“What? You’re kidding. That’s really how your folks got together? Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course.”
I chuckle, shaking my head.
“Everything that could go wrong with two people did,” I say.
Delia winces.
She’s too innocent for life.
Slowly, I look her up and down, wondering if I’m drawn to her out of some fucked up subconscious desire to follow in my old man’s footsteps.
I’m certainly defiling a young woman who’s too good for me.
And part of me enjoys it.
I’m howling to wreck every inch of her, brand her as mine, no matter how wrong or crazy and sick in the head it is.
“Babe, you’re a smart chick, but there’s a lot to learn about the world. People don’t always get hitched and start popping out kids because they’re head over heels in love. Sometimes, they just make a big goddamned mistake because the sex is that good—and Mom’s drug was kink before she got into the other shit. I found out the hard way when I went sniffing around the old dives where my dad used to hang out.”
And what else did it teach me?
Here I am, desperately trying to tell myself I’ve got zero interest in corrupting a sweet, smart girl—my own frigging stepsister, no less.
Here I am, stuck on the little whimper she makes when my cock plunges into her, slamming her into the mattress, wanting to ruin her forever.
I wonder if I’m trying to fuck things out of my system that I should’ve dealt with years ago.
Horizontal therapy.
Regardless, it’s finished the second we’re on our flight home.
It has to be over, done, and kaput before I risk leaving us as screwed up as my parents.
“I’m not as naïve as you think,” she says with a pout. “Is that why she’s so torn up then? The breakup sent her spiraling into drugs? That’s really sad. If she had regrets—”
“My old man’s dead,” I bite off. “Road accident years after he disappeared—or so I heard from a dude in his club when I got older. He wound up joining the Grizzlies MC. You ever heard of ’em?”
She shakes her head.
“Major hardasses, especially in the old days. Whatever actually happened to Pops, who knows. Don’t care. It won’t fix how Ma fucked herself right off a cliff.”
“God. I have to keep Dad from getting hurt,” she says quietly.
“His problem, Delia. Not yours. He’s—what?—pushing sixty? Like you said, you’re better off letting a man make his own mistakes. He’ll find out she’s been after nothing but a sugar daddy soon enough.”
The waiter returns and interrupts us.
Great timing.
We get our last course before dessert, some kind of rustic French quail I can’t pronounce.
Damn if it doesn’t take the edge off as I tear the succulent meat from the bone, enjoying the way it pairs with the wine.
If only Delia wasn’t picking at her food again.
Fuck.
I hate that we had to go poking at bad memories, shitting up our night.
I want to fly home and drag Evie out of that mansion, kicking and screaming.
She’s not ruining this.
None of our parents’ fuckery is tainting our last good memory as lovers.
“I’m sorry if that got a little heated,” she whispers over her glass. “I never meant to pry.”
“Just dig in, princess.” I lean forward and reach across the table, setting her glass down and cupping her chin. I stroke her cheek with my thumb. “No sense in letting their toxic shit poison us. This is our night, Delia. The last night we get.”
A sad smile pulls at her lips.
I lean in closer and whisper, “Lady, don’t make me fuck the bad thoughts right out of your head on an empty stomach. Eat.”
She reaches for my hand. I let her pull it off her face.
For a second, she holds it softly between hers and then gives the back of my hand a little kiss.
“I wish this wasn’t ending...but you’re right. We have lives to get back to. Incompatible ones.” She flinches slightly when she says it. “God, do you know how hard it’ll be to let go after this week? Maybe things would be different if our parents weren’t married and just so...so effed up.”
Damn.
I’ve never heard her drop a near F-bomb in public.
That tells me how upset she is, already raw from losing this.
Still, I can’t lead her on, even when every part of me knows just how right she is.
“We deal with the hand we drew, babe. You want to help your old man sort his shit? Then you can’t let him find out his lovely daughter’s sharing a bed with her stepbrother. We’re doing the right thing.”
I want to believe that.
Only, if it’s true, why does saying it feel like a shot through the chest?
She nods like her head is a boulder.
There’s no denying the sadness in her eyes, hurt and melancholy over the thousand and one obstacles keeping us apart.
Fuck, there’s that us again.
Why can’t I chase it out of my head?
The very idea of us makes me want to punch myself in the face.
It’s not like she’s my girlfriend.
In the SEALs, we were trained to suss out the flaws in our own thoughts before they became fatal mistakes, and I’m catching myself now.
I don’t care how beautiful she looks, or how much I wish I could burn away the lonely regrets in her big brown eyes.
We’ve got one more night—and one night alone—to make memories worth keeping.
One more night of splendor, booze, and blinding passion before it’s back to the dark of reality.
And in that reality, relationships don’t fit.
I know she’ll be okay in the end.
Evie and Bruce will one hundred percent self-destruct sooner or later. She’ll help pick up the pieces and set things right.
When I gag the jealous little devil in my head, I even hope like hell there’s a good man waiting for her someday. A man with the patience and heart to help her sweep up the fallout of our family shit.
He just won’t be me.
He can’t be.
Delia’s future is too bright to end up with a military man who never learned how to hitch emotions to what lands on his dick.
Reality sucks, but reality rules.
I know what I need to do tonight.
For the next twelve hours, I’ll make Delia Burr happier than she’s ever been.
Then with one last biting, soul-shredding kiss, I’ll be gone.
* * *
We’re outside on the balcony, overlooking the Vegas skyline for the last time.
Even if it’s so beautiful it’s otherworldly out here, I can only drink it in with quick snatches before turning back to what owns my gaze.
Delia, curled up on my lap, her legs slung over me.
Her breath quickens as she breathes me in. I let her have her fill with her face buried in my shoulder.
The fingers I comb through her hair slowly form a greedy fist.
My cock wants to rip straight through my trousers and take her right here, right now, but the mutinous bastard beating in my chest tells me to slow down and savor this.
Enjoy her, you unhinged coyote.
Just this once, I let him win.
We actually cuddle—a word that was never in my vocabulary before—and I’m shocked to admit it isn’t half bad.
Shame I know having her under me is a thousand times hotter.
After twenty minutes of quiet and closeness, I can’t do tender anymore.
“Princess, look at me.”
“Yeah?” Tears are brimming in her eyes, reflecting the golden light below.
Part of me expected it, honestly, but seeing it still hits like a sucker punch.
“You can’t be upset. You know what’s coming tomorrow. It’s for our own good. Think about our futures, our careers and families. We can’t keep living what-ifs, Miss Delia. You need to live right now.”
“I know, I know... It just hurts, okay? I get it. There’s no way we make sense. But I still don’t like losing you, Chris. Why does it have to be so unfair?” She watches me staring, and I wonder if she’s lost her mind or if she really doesn’t understand. “We’re not even related. Not for real. When I’m with you, this thing we have doesn’t feel so crazy... How could it be?”
She twists her lips, deep in thought.
“Whatever.” She sighs softly.
She reaches for my neck, pressing her small hands to my skin. Her nails graze me, stroking more heat in my blood.
Christ.
I’ve seen women look at me lust-drunk before, but this is something else.
The intensity in her eyes almost makes me shoot off in my pants.
An overwhelming urge to rip her dress off and fuck her right here on the balcony darts through me.
I can’t make myself give a fuck who sees or hears us.
“I know you’re right. I just wish you weren’t so bad,” she hisses. “Take me like I mean something tonight. Make this last time the best. Make me remember you forever...”
Holy shit.
Her amber eyes twinkle like she’s possessed, and it’s not the wine from dinner.
I’m so hard it cuts me open.
With a breathless growl, my hand skims down her back and stops on her zipper.
I give her just enough space to fumble the dress off.
Delia doesn’t even protest. She just slides off my lap to stand and let it fall to the floor.
The race is on.
I’m ripping off my vest, my trousers, my boxers.
Anything and everything I need gone to get naked and sink down inside her.
By the time I’m freed from my clothes, she’s next to the wide glass door, one arm folded across her breast.
No fucking way am I letting Miss Modesty butt into tonight.
I grab her hand and pull her toward me, guiding us into the long deck chair, where I throw her down gently.
“Chris? Outside? Are you crazy?” she asks sharply.
I answer by holding her down, parting her legs, and pushing my face toward dessert.
“We shouldn’t—oh!”
Yeah.
Oh, fuck yes, we should.
The moan that jolts out of her when my tongue swipes her clit speaks volumes.
She shifts in the seat, restless like she wants to fight it, but a few more licks do a lot of persuading.
I want her to feel my obsession.
I can’t keep my hands, my mouth, my goddamned mind off her.
She doesn’t know, but everything’s coming down like an avalanche inside me as I tongue fuck her pussy for the last time.
I’m not supposed to feel this ache, this boulder in my chest—much less say anything about it—and I won’t.
Not with words.
That’s why I use my mouth the only way I know how, growling as I push her pleasure higher.
Her clit slides between my teeth. I suck like it’s candy, sweeping my tongue over her bud faster.
