Reveling in Sin Read online

  When he snaps the elastic on my panties, the only barrier between us is gone.

  He takes his time, licking and stroking, bringing me all the way to the edge and pushing me over again and again until I’m not sure I can hold back another scream. But he doesn’t stop.

  Lincoln’s determined to make me beg, and if this is the way he wants to cope with his grief, there’s no way in hell I’m going to stop him.

  As long as the orgasms don’t kill me.

  17

  Lincoln

  When I finally push inside Whitney, my balls are drawn up so tight, I’m afraid I won’t last beyond the second pump. I force myself to slow down and look into her eyes. They’re hazy with the remnants of her last orgasm, and her lips are curled into a feline smile.

  I will never tire of that expression for as long as I live.

  “I love you, Blue, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving to you just how much.”

  “I told you, you don’t have anything to prove.”

  “I do, and I will. Just wait.”

  I drive into her three more times, and when her inner muscles clamp down tightly on me, I lose myself in her body.

  The rest of my life won’t be long enough. I need forever with this woman.

  When dawn breaks, I regret the fact that I didn’t pull the drapes closed last night, because the bright morning light is impossible to sleep through. My body is curled around the woman I never want to let out of my arms again. The woman who gave me solace last night when I would have otherwise sworn I wouldn’t find it.

  As much as I want to avoid the feelings of grief trapped inside me forever, I know I’ll have to deal with them eventually. But not yet.

  Whitney stirs and lifts her head. “So bright.”

  “I know. I’ll close the curtains, and you keep sleeping. I’ll come back to wake you up in an hour.”

  She must only be partially awake, because she mumbles something and tugs the blanket closer to her face. In seconds, her breathing shifts back to the even pattern I’ve memorized.

  I wish we could rewind to the morning we were at my house, and I could leave her sleeping in my own bed, except this time I wouldn’t fuck everything up by jumping to conclusions when I read the news headline.

  What’s done is done. The only thing I can do is move forward and prove to her that I’m not going to fuck up again. Never again.

  I pull on a T-shirt I left in the drawer the last time I stayed here and my pants from yesterday, then leave the room quietly. When I venture downstairs, I find my grandfather and my sister both in the dining room. McKinley has her laptop next to her plate, and she works while stealing bites of toast. Commodore reads the paper as steam rises from his coffee. Both of their heads lift when I step into the room.

  “Anything new this morning?”

  McKinley glances up at me. “Not yet. I have an idea I want to run past you, though.”

  My grandfather narrows his gaze over the paper at her. “What kind of idea?”

  “The kind that both of you are going to think is crazy, but I think is smart. And since I’m in charge of the resort . . .”

  “What are you hinting at? Might as well just tell us,” Commodore says.

  “Whitney’s cousin’s wedding and reception is next week, and I want to empty the main wing of the hotel, the tower, so there’s absolutely no chance that anything or anyone could possibly ruin her day.”

  “You want to cancel the reservations?” I ask, disbelief in my tone.

  “Not cancel them, move them all to the garden wing. I’ve already written a letter to send to the guests whose rooms would be impacted. Anyone who isn’t going to get the view they requested will receive a free night’s stay for their next trip. Since we never run sales or specials of any kind, I don’t think most will object.”

  My brain finally catches up to my sister’s logic. “That way we could arrange security to block off access to the main tower. Close the restaurant, and only offer dinner that night in the garden to other guests.”

  “Exactly. Then we wouldn’t have to worry about the media somehow sneaking inside, because we can practically lock down the entire hotel.”

  Harrison appears in the doorway. “You’re going to do all that for Cricket Gable’s wedding? That seems like overkill for a pot-smoking hippie.”

  McKinley’s attention cuts to where he stands in the doorway opposite me. “It’s not just for Cricket. It’s for Whitney. She’s family now, and we’re closing ranks to keep her safe. Isn’t that right, Grandfather?”

  Commodore lowers his paper to the table and studies my sister. “You’re going to be the one facing the guests who are inconvenienced. Are you sure that’s the smartest business decision?”

  “Yes,” McKinley replies, showing wisdom and strength when talking about the resort. She’s in her element as she continues. “Because the last thing we need is another incident, and at the end of the day, I’m the one who’s in charge of making sure Whitney’s cousin has the best wedding day she can imagine. And that’s exactly what I’m going to give her.”

  “This is why I should’ve been in charge of the hotel.” Harrison steps into the room, adding a punch of resentment to each word. “You’re too damn sentimental to realize you’re making a huge mistake.”

  Commodore looks from him to McKinley. “I approve of your decision. That’s exactly what I would do.” His gaze flicks back to Harrison. “And your attitude is another reason I didn’t put you in charge of anything.”

  My brother sputters. “But you only care about the bottom line. When have you ever given a damn about anything else?”

  My grandfather raises his chin. If Harrison were smart, he’d be afraid of whatever is going to come out of Commodore’s mouth next.

  “Protect and preserve the legacy goes far beyond business. We uphold our principles, our name, and our honor, leaving everything we touch better for the next generation than when we were given control of it.”

  “And now the next generation is going to be Ricky Rango’s goddamn bastard kid that’s out there somewhere, or one that’s half fucking Gable.” Harrison’s tone drips disgust. “Great goddamn legacy you’ve got there.”

  Commodore’s good elbow hits the table and the china rattles. “Get out of this house. Take nothing but those things you actually paid for yourself. I’ll have your credit cards shut off within the hour. Let’s see how you handle life in the real world without that legacy.”

  My brother’s face morphs into a picture of rage. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  “It’s time for you to learn, boy. Your brother went off and made his mark before he came back, and we should’ve done the same with you, but your mother didn’t want you to be away longer than you had to be.”

  My brother’s glare skewers each of us. “I’m glad she didn’t live to see the day when a Gable was welcomed into this house and her son was thrown out. That would’ve killed her.”

  “You’re officially fired and homeless, Harrison. Get the hell out.” Commodore’s declaration leaves absolutely no room for misinterpretation. “Come back when you can prove that you’re worthy of the Riscoff name.”

  “Fuck you. Fuck every single one of you.” Harrison stomps out of the room, and a vase smashes to the floor as he brushes past it.

  “He’s going to make a mess,” McKinley says as she shoves her chair back and pushes to her feet.

  “Then let him. It’s time for him to grow up and learn how to act like a decent human being. Whatever he destroys will be something he’ll have to replace in the future.”

  A feeling of foreboding settles over me as I hear more glass shatter.

  This isn’t going to end well.

  18

  Whitney

  The sound of doors slamming and things breaking jerks me out of sleep. My body tenses as I blink and remember the crashing and banging of Ricky destroying everything in the house when I wouldn’t come out of the safe room that fateful
day.

  My heart rate skyrockets and my breathing speeds up.

  No. Ricky’s dead. I’m not in the safe room.

  I blink in the darkness, working to get my bearings.

  I’m at the Riscoff estate. Commodore ordered us to stay here. I reach out and feel the bed. The sheets beside me are cold, and I vaguely remember Lincoln’s voice earlier this morning.

  Another door slams, and it sounds like the force should have been hard enough to crack it.

  I pop out of bed and throw on my clothes before I rush out into the hallway. There’s no war going on that I can see, but someone is definitely throwing a fit of rage. I bet I only need one guess as to who that is . . .

  As soon as I see a suitcase being tossed into the hallway and Harrison’s furious face follow it out of a doorway, I wish I’d stayed in bed.

  He straightens when he sees me, his chest heaving and nostrils flaring. “This is your fault. You couldn’t keep your goddamned legs closed, and now you’re fucking ruining everything.”

  It’s still early, yet I can’t help but wonder if he’s already drunk, because he’s not making any sense.

  I know better than to embroil myself in confrontations I don’t understand, so my first instinct is to pull myself back into the room and lock the door until whatever enraged Harrison Riscoff passes. But that’s the old Whitney, whose first instinct is to curl into a ball and protect herself. Maybe this is the wrong time to take a stand, but something that feels a lot like confidence keeps my spine ramrod straight as I face Harrison.

  “I don’t have a clue what went wrong in your privileged world, but I do recognize a grown man throwing a temper tantrum when I see it.”

  He drops the bag he’s holding and stalks toward me.

  Shit. Maybe this was a bad idea.

  “I hope you’re happy that you’re destroying this family one generation at a time. I don’t know what you did to make my grandfather think you’re holier-than-thou, but I guarantee it won’t last. My brother is only with you because he wasn’t supposed to be. Now that he’s got the green light to bang your skank ass, he won’t stay with you long. The appeal is gone. You’re not a challenge anymore. Don’t get used to being lady of the manor, because you’ll be outside the gates looking in again before you know it.” Harrison’s glare sharpens. “I predict it won’t even take a week. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

  He turns and marches back to his bags, and I can’t help but wonder what exactly I missed this morning.

  Is Harrison really leaving in protest?

  Lincoln comes up the stairs as his brother drags his expensive luggage down the hall, and I have to wonder if it’s the first time he’s carried his own bags in his entire life.

  “What? You checking to make sure I didn’t take anything I wasn’t supposed to? Go ahead, search my bags. See if I fucking care.” Harrison spits the words like venom at his brother.

  “I don’t give a damn what you took. I only hope you lose the attitude.”

  Harrison glances at me. “I didn’t want to be under the same roof as your whore anyway. Commodore thinks I can’t make it on my own? He’ll regret this.”

  Lincoln steps out of his brother’s way as he heads for the stairs. “I’ll text you the funeral plans. I’m sure Commodore wouldn’t want you to be excluded from those.”

  “I don’t give a damn what Commodore wants anymore. I’m not missing my mother’s funeral, and he can go fuck himself if he thinks differently.”

  As Harrison drags his suitcases down the stairs, Lincoln stands with his back toward me, watching the bags thump from one step to the next.

  As soon as he turns around, I rush toward him. “What the hell happened? Did Commodore kick him out?”

  “Until further notice. He told Harrison it was time he prove he’s worthy of the family name.”

  “That’s a little harsh.” I’m shocked I’m speaking up for Harrison, considering all the hate he’s spewed at me, but he did just lose his mother yesterday.

  Lincoln nods. “But it might be the best thing to ever happen to him. Other than college, he’s never lived anywhere else. He’s never had to earn a paycheck to make sure he has a roof over his head and food on his plate.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “And you did?”

  “From the day I graduated from college until a few days before I met you, I was cut off completely. No family money there to cushion my fall if I failed. It taught me something that Harrison desperately needs to learn—what it is to be your own man.”

  The front door slams and I wince. “He doesn’t sound like he agrees with you.”

  “Doesn’t matter. He’ll figure it out, or he’ll have to swallow his pride and come crawling back to Commodore and apologize. Enough about my brother. There’s something I wanted to tell you about your cousin’s wedding at the resort.”

  I have so many more things to say about this subject, but none of it is going to be helpful right now, so instead I smile.

  “What about Cricket’s wedding? Is there an issue?”

  “No issue, but wait until you hear what McKinley’s going to do for her.”

  19

  Lincoln

  With Renee Rango’s death, the exhumation of my father’s body has been canceled, but part of me wonders if that was really the right choice. I can’t escape the nagging feeling that maybe we should have done it anyway, but Commodore made the decision, and I’m not going to argue it right now.

  The last thing we need in this family is more potential for disaster, and removing my father’s casket from the mausoleum seems like an invitation for it. Besides, with Harrison in charge of security, it was going to be a clusterfuck.

  The fact that Whitney and I are in the library instead of dodging press and dealing with the past is vastly preferable. I’m working through contracts as she writes, at least until her phone buzzes on the table between us.

  I look at the name on the display. Asa.

  Fuck. Whitney’s brother.

  I’ll never forget the beating he gave me, or how he threatened to kill me the day of her wedding.

  “Are you going to answer that?” I ask as she stares at the phone and then looks up at me.

  “What am I going to say to him?”

  “Tell him the truth.”

  Whitney’s face pales, and there’s no doubt she remembers exactly how much her brother hates me too. He probably hates me more than my brother hates her. Obviously, our family issues are going to take some time to work out.

  She answers the phone. “Asa?”

  “Where the hell are you? Where the hell is everyone?”

  Even though it’s not on speaker, I can hear every word, and I grimace. He has to be here in Gable. Fuck.

  “What do you mean? Where are you?” Whitney asks, and I don’t know if she’s hoping he’s not really here or if she hasn’t put it together yet. I’m going with the former over the latter.

  “I’m standing in front of Aunt Jackie’s house, and there’s a guy here who just told me one hell of a story about what’s been going on with the family that no one else bothered to mention. Where the hell are Jackie and the twins?”

  Well, that answers my question.

  “Aunt Jackie, Karma, and her kids are staying at The Gables right now. Cricket is with her fiancé.”

  “And where are you?”

  Whitney swallows, and I know she’s not looking forward to breaking the news to her brother. She glances at me as she straightens in her seat.

  “I’m at the Riscoff estate.”

  Asa doesn’t answer for several moments, and when he does, his tone is tight. “Jesus fucking Christ. You better tell them to let me in, because I’m on my way.”

  20

  Whitney

  “I don’t want to be here either, but you better show me where my sister is.”

  Asa’s voice booming from the front door is impossible to miss, even though I can’t see him from the entrance to the library.

  “I apologize i
n advance if this turns into a mess,” I say to Lincoln. Asa can be a loose cannon, and I can only imagine what he’s going to say now.

  Lincoln squeezes my hand. “He’s a good brother. I can respect that.”

  The last time I saw Asa was in LA three days after Ricky died. The fact that he’s only now showing up in Gable doesn’t surprise me. Asa is often cut off from communication and news from the civilian world as part of his job.

  What that job is exactly, I don’t know and he won’t tell me. He was only in LA for a few hours, because that’s all the time he could spare from whatever he was working on. He offered me money, but I turned it down out of pride and told him Ricky left me plenty. When he finds out I lied to him, it’s not going to be pretty.

  Lincoln and I head for the foyer and meet Asa.

  “Fucking hell, Whit. You’ve got a lot of goddamn explaining to do.” He strides toward me and scoops me up in his arms in a hug.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about any of this. I figured you were way too busy.”

  “I’m never too busy for my family. Ever. It might take me a few days to get back to you, but it’s not because I want it that way. I heard the news. What a fucking mess. There’s no way Ricky was really a Riscoff. No fucking way,” my brother says quietly. “I don’t believe it. He never said a word. And then his mom . . .”

  It’s easy to forget that Asa and Ricky were friends for years, especially when my memory of Ricky has morphed into something so different.

  “I’m so sorry about Renee,” I tell my brother. “I know you knew her . . . before.”

  “She was batshit crazy from day one. Definitely crazy enough to make up a story like this. I don’t think there’s a chance in hell it’s true, though,” he says.

  “Ricky might not have known.”