Reveling in Sin Read online

  “I know you don’t know me that well, but can I hug you?” When McKinley nods, I cross the room to wrap my arms around her. “I’m so sorry about your mother. I’m so sorry that—”

  “No, please don’t apologize,” McKinley says on a sniffle. “She shouldn’t have put Lincoln in that position. It wasn’t fair to him or you or any of us. And then there’s whatever my father did or didn’t do. So much of this mess rests on his shoulders, and he’ll never be able to tell us what really happened.”

  “I’m still sorry,” I whisper and hug her tighter.

  She lets a few more tears fall before she pulls back. “Mother wouldn’t want me to make a scene out of grief. She’d be disappointed.”

  “You’re entitled to whatever you feel. If you want to scream and take books off the shelves and throw them across the room and break furniture, I’m not going to judge. Feel what you need to feel. Say what you need to say.”

  McKinley smiles, and her hazel eyes that look so much like Lincoln’s shimmer with unshed tears. “You’re a good influence, Whitney. I’m glad my brother has you. I’m glad he’s brought you into all our lives again.” She gives me one last squeeze and lets me go, then settles in front of her computer and gets back to work.

  I suppose everyone deals with grief differently, and like I learned last time, life always goes on, no matter what. Even when we don’t think it should.

  My heart breaks for both our families and all the pain and loss we’ve had to bear. I think we’re all due for a spell of good luck.

  If only wishing could make it happen.

  13

  Lincoln

  Not surprisingly, Commodore refuses to go to the hospital. The bullet grazed his arm, and the wound doesn’t look as bad as I expected. Still, I know there’s no chance he’ll change his mind. I call his doctor, fill him in on the situation, and he promises he’ll be at the house within the half hour.

  In the middle of my call, my brother finally appears, and of course, nothing he has to say is helpful.

  “This is all Whitney Gable’s fault! She has to go! This never would have happened if she weren’t here. None of this would’ve—”

  “Shut the fuck up, Harrison,” I snap as soon as I end the call, and my grandfather turns to look at him as he rolls toward the house.

  “I don’t want to hear another word out of you for the rest of the goddamned day,” Commodore says to my brother as he continues ahead of us, manipulating his chair with his good arm.

  As soon as our grandfather is out of earshot, Harrison starts up again. “I can’t believe you brought her here. Mother is screaming from the heavens knowing that woman is in our house. A fucking Gable. Leave it to you to be just like Father. If you think you’re going to move her in here like she’s lady of the manor—”

  My jaw clenches so hard, it threatens to crack my teeth. I speak in a measured tone to make sure my brother doesn’t misunderstand me.

  “She’s here because I want her here, and Commodore wants her here. If you have another thing to say about her, I’ll beat the hell out of you in front of all the reporters that are still out front.”

  Harrison is spoiling for a fight, and I’d be glad to give it to him, but I care a hell of a lot more about making sure Commodore is patched up quickly than I do about sparring with my brother. I leave him behind in the driveway and head inside the house.

  After I make sure Martin has made Commodore comfortable while he waits for the doctor, I find McKinley and Whitney in the library after borrowing a fresh shirt. My heart squeezes tighter in my chest when I see how she’s watching over my little sister. Thankfully, someone delivered food because it’s been a long goddamned day.

  I meet Whitney’s gaze and smile at her. “Everything okay?”

  “How’s Commodore? What did the paramedics say? Is he going to the hospital?”

  “The doctor is on his way here, and he’ll probably need stitches and antibiotics, but he’s way too stubborn to go to the hospital.”

  Her expression creases with concern. “Are you sure that’s the best idea?”

  “It was a graze. He said he had worse in the war.”

  “What about . . . Mrs. Rango?” McKinley asks.

  “The deputies blocked off the area, and the coroner arrived before we came inside.”

  “I still can’t believe this . . .” Whitney trails off.

  “I know. But it’s not your fault.”

  She shakes her head as I wrap an arm around her shoulders. “I just want it all to be over. I don’t want to lose anyone else. I don’t care who it is. There’s been too much loss.”

  “It will be over. I promise.”

  “Ricky’s fans are going to be so angry when they hear about Renee,” Whitney whispers.

  “And that’s not our problem.” I close my arms around her and pull her into my chest. “It’s going to be fine. I’m proud of you. You were amazing.” I press a kiss to her forehead.

  McKinley’s cell phone rings, and she pulls it from her pocket to look at it. “I’m sorry, I have to take this. Will you excuse me?”

  “We’ll leave you here in peace. I’ll be close if you need me, Mac.”

  “Don’t call me that,” my sister says before she answers the phone.

  She starts talking, and I lead Whitney toward the door.

  “I’m worried about her,” Whitney says. “She puts on a good front, but she’s still a little girl who just lost her mom and then saw her grandpa get shot.”

  My hand tightens its grip on Whitney’s. “I know. But I also know my sister. She’s not playing. She’s strong. She’ll grieve, but it’ll happen in her own time and her own way.”

  “What about you?” she asks.

  “I’ve been grieving the loss of my mother since the night my father died. We lost part of her then, and we never got her back.”

  Whitney’s arms wrap around me. “I’m so sorry, Lincoln. I could apologize a million times and it wouldn’t be enough. I just hope Commodore—”

  I interrupt her before she can keep saying she’s sorry. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t do any of this. I didn’t do any of this. That’s what we have to remember. We did nothing wrong. Please tell me you understand and believe that.”

  Whitney is quiet for several moments. “I’m not going to run, if that’s what you’re asking.” She looks up at me, and the conviction in her expression gives me a punch of strength. “I’m done running. I’m staying here. With you. If you’ll still have me.”

  “I’ll always have you.” I lower my forehead to hers and breathe her in as I squeeze her tighter. “You leaving is the one thing that would break me, Blue. With you, I can take on anything. Without you, I’d go back to being a shell of a man.”

  I pause for a beat, and I know this isn’t the time to share what else I’m thinking, but if today has taught me anything, it’s that there is no guarantee of tomorrow. I pull back to meet her beautiful blue gaze that sucked me in from that very first night.

  “Someday soon, I’m going to ask you a really important question, Whitney, and I want you to say yes.”

  14

  Whitney

  He’s going to ask me to marry him.

  As I sit at the ridiculously long table in the dining room of the Riscoff estate, it takes the remaining reserve of my strength after this marathon of a day to keep my expression calm. Inside, I’m grappling with everything that has happened. Could I have misunderstood him?

  Shivers ripple across my skin, and I don’t know what to think. If Lincoln meant what I thought he meant . . . Everyone who told me he’d never want to marry me was wrong.

  I reach for my water glass, needing to do something with my hands as we wait for Commodore to position himself at the head of the table and finally speak. His fresh shirt is snowy white beneath the navy-blue sling, and his eyes are clear despite the pain he must be in, since Lincoln told me he refused drugs other than antibiotics.

  “I asked you all to have dinner with m
e this evening because I want to make it very clear what matters to me at this phase of my life—especially after the circus earlier—and that’s family.”

  Commodore’s serious gaze moves from McKinley and Harrison on one side of the table and to me and Lincoln on the other. His attention seems to linger even longer on me.

  “She’s not family,” Harrison says, staring at me. “She’s a Gable—”

  “When I want your opinion, boy, I’ll ask for it.”

  Harrison shuts his mouth, and I’m certain Commodore just gave him another reason to hate me more than he already does.

  “Lincoln has made it clear that Whitney belongs with him, and I suspect it’s only a matter of time before her status in this family is official.”

  “Yes, sir,” Lincoln says. “You’re correct.”

  My cheeks heat as everyone looks to me. This is really happening. I didn’t misunderstand anything about what Lincoln said.

  If you had asked me two months ago if I’d ever get married again, my answer would have been hell no, absolutely not. No way. No how. But Lincoln has always been the one. I gave him up once, and I’ve been lying to myself if I thought that I’d ever be able to do it again.

  “Regardless of her last name, she’s shown herself to be strong, resilient, loyal, and intelligent. Maybe with this union, the feud between our families will finally be put to rest—before any more losses are suffered on either side.”

  Harrison scoffs, but Lincoln raises his glass.

  “I can drink to that.”

  Commodore nods and we all raise our glasses high, except Harrison, whose whiskey tumbler hovers near his lips.

  “To the next generation. May they not be touched by the tragedy we’ve suffered.”

  We all toast to Commodore’s words, and I tip back the wine in my glass.

  “But what if there’s already a next generation? I thought we decided that Ricky Rango already has a kid running around out there, or there’s no way his crazy mom would worry about a paternity test after all this time.”

  Of course Harrison can’t let us have one single moment of relative peace, but I can’t say I haven’t been wondering and worrying about the same thing.

  “Unless someone else comes forward, we may never know the truth,” Commodore says. “But regardless of the answer to that question, nothing changes. Lincoln will lead this family and the company after I’m gone.”

  “And McKinley gets the resort and I get nothing. I see how it works.”

  Commodore’s hard stare sharpens on Harrison. “You will get what you deserve, and only your actions and effort will dictate exactly what that is.”

  “I already know what you’ve decided, old man. There’s no question there.” Harrison rises from the table, whiskey glass in hand. “It’s always been bullshit. Enjoy your dinner. I’ll be mourning the loss of my mother while I get drunk.”

  We all watch him as he stalks out of the room.

  “I’ll never understand him,” McKinley says quietly.

  Commodore glances at her. “That, my dear, is what entitlement looks like. He will never work for what he wants. He’ll always expect it to be given. As long as that continues, he’ll be given nothing.”

  Through the rest of dinner, the tension at the table is thick enough to cut with a knife. Commodore tells stories about his childhood, but everyone’s laughter sounds brittle and forced. After what McKinley said about her parents, I can’t help but wonder if there’s ever been real laughter in this house.

  Maybe . . . just maybe . . . that’s something I can change in the future.

  I have no idea how, but I just made myself a new goal.

  “Are you sure about this?” I ask as Lincoln leads me up the grand staircase, and all I can remember is the room from a decade ago when his mother caught us together.

  “You’re not staying in a guest room. You’re with me. Even my grandfather understands and has given his blessing—not that we needed it. Besides, after today . . . I need you close.”

  He pulls me into his arms, his chin brushing the top of my head. The stiffness of his posture seems to melt away as he simply holds me in the middle of the hallway.

  Maybe I can give him exactly what I was seeking—peace.

  We stand there for long moments, and by the time he releases me, every inch of my skin buzzes where it touches his. Despite the fact that I should be exhausted, part of me is alive and anticipating what’s coming next. Lincoln never fails to send my senses into overdrive.

  My brain may be caught up in everything that has happened today, but my body is already moving beyond it.

  Still, when we continue down the hallway, I have to ask, “Are you sure you don’t want to spend more time with your sister or your grandfather? I don’t want to take you away from your family tonight.”

  Lincoln pauses in front of a large wooden door and drops my hand in favor of resting his palms on my shoulders. His hazel stare is serious when he speaks.

  “I don’t know how long it’ll take you to accept it, Blue, but you’re my family too. And tonight, I need you.”

  15

  Lincoln

  It’s been the day from hell, and I’m raw. There’s only one thing in this world that can soothe me, and that’s Whitney. Her blue eyes go soft when I tell her exactly what she means to me, and her lips part.

  I lower my mouth to hers, taking the smallest taste. It’s not enough. With Whitney Gable, enough isn’t a concept. I’ll never tire of kissing her lips, worshipping her body, and hearing her say my name when she comes.

  What I need tonight is everything that is her. I reach behind us and wrap my fingers around the handle. As soon as the door swings open, I pull her inside.

  I haven’t had a designated bedroom at the estate since I moved out, but on the rare occasions I’ve stayed here since, this is my room of choice. Of all the guest suites, it’s the simplest. But tonight, all that matters is that it has a bed where I can spend the night wrapped around the woman I love.

  The woman I’m going to marry.

  A sense of possession rushes over me and I kick the door shut behind us, never taking my lips from hers. The slamming echoes in the room, bouncing off the high ceiling and dark green walls, but I couldn’t care less. Whitney’s tantalizing scent, a sweet mix of warm vanilla and coconut, invades my senses, and I can’t wait to see if her skin tastes like it smells.

  I drop my hands from her hair and wrap them around her waist to pick her up and carry her to the bed. “I don’t give a damn what happens tonight, we’re not leaving this room. I don’t care if the entire estate is burning down around—”

  Whitney pulls her mouth back to press a finger against my lips. “Don’t say that.”

  “Fair enough,” I say as I press a kiss to the pad of her finger. “But I’m going to say this. I love you, Whitney Gable, and there’s nothing I want more than to spend every night of the rest of my life with you.”

  16

  Whitney

  His words have the power to make me swoon.

  “I love you, Lincoln.”

  His features soften and his eyes drift closed. “Say it again.”

  “I love you. I’ve always loved you. I will always love you.”

  Lincoln bows his head to rest against my forehead. “I don’t deserve you. Not after everything I—”

  “Don’t say it.” I press a kiss to his lips. “Because you’re wrong.”

  Lincoln takes control of the kiss and presses me back against the bed. His lips skim down to my jaw and up to my ear. He pauses there.

  “I’ll prove it to you. I’ll show you I deserve you. I’ll be the man you’ve always needed me to be. No more letting you down. I promise you. I love you so fucking much, Blue.”

  “You don’t need to prove anything to me. All I’ve ever wanted is your love.”

  “You have it, but that’s just the beginning,” Lincoln says before he turns ravenous.

  He’s on a mission tonight, and even if he does
n’t realize it, I do. He’s trying to escape the grief of what happened today, and there’s nothing I won’t do to help him. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him, period.

  It’s a simple fact now. No questions asked. Our path may never be smooth and easy to navigate, but we’ve been through too much in finding our way back to each other to give up again.

  Lincoln Riscoff is mine.

  His lips coast down my neck, leaving a wake of heat. He slips my shirt over my head, then cups my breasts in his hands.

  “So beautiful. So fucking beautiful.”

  With a tug, Lincoln frees my breasts and thumbs my nipples. The buds tighten into even harder nubs, desperate for his mouth next. He rolls them between his thumb and forefinger, and I writhe on the bed beneath him as heat builds between my legs.

  “I don’t spend enough time on your gorgeous tits. That all changes now.” He pinches them tighter between the pads of his fingers, and a bolt of pleasure shoots through me as I buck my hips up toward his body.

  He covers one nipple with his mouth and sucks hard enough to steal a gasp from me. When he switches to the other side, the sparks of heat grow to the point where I think I might actually come from this alone. I never have before, but Lincoln has proven to be the exception to every rule.

  When he scrapes across the tender skin with his teeth and pinches the opposite nipple, something breaks inside me and a rush of pleasure sweeps through.

  “Oh my God. Oh my God.” I grip his shoulders hard as I ride it out.

  When I finally release him, Lincoln lifts his head. “You’re so beautiful. I need to see that again.”

  He lifts up from the bed and his fingers go to the waist of my pants. Within seconds, I’m naked but for a thong, and Lincoln presses his mouth against the lace, breathing me in.

  “Please, I need . . .”

  “Everything. You need fucking everything from me, and I’m going to give it to you.”