The Revenge (The Insiders Trilogy #3)(53)

The interior of the house had the usual low lights they kept on during night hours, but none of the staff was around. Just Peter, and he had a coffee cup in hand. I raised an eyebrow. “You brewed that yourself?”

“It’s four in the morning. Don’t be a jerkface.” He grinned. “Cyclone is teaching me the current insults. Dickface. Assface. I used the tamest one of those three.”

I grinned back.

It was good to be home. “She’s in bed?”

His grin got bigger, but the bags under his eyes told me he’d been waiting up the whole time. “You can see for yourself.” He took a sip. “Do we need to have a debriefing before you go and do that?”

I frowned, lowering my duffel bag. “Not unless some form of emergency has come up I should hear about now.”

He didn’t say a word. I knew what that meant.

“Okay.” I gestured ahead. “Your office, I’m assuming?”

“My office.”

Peter filled me in on everything.

Bailey I was dreaming about Kash, and it was a delicious dream.

I could smell him. I could hear him. I was feeling him.

He was carrying me. We were moving. Then there was warmth, more warmth, and I was in bed .

He wasn’t there, though. I didn’t like that, and I reached for him.

I was searching. The bed was empty. The bed shouldn’t have been empty. And then he was back.

The mattress depressed under his weight, and his arms were around me.

I was being pulled back into his chest.

His legs were around me.

He was folding me into him, and his lips skimmed my shoulder.

He ran a hand down my face, his lips brushing my cheek, my lips.

A whisper from him. “Sleep. We’ll talk later.”

So, I slept again.

Best dream in a long time, but that night, it was my best dream ever.

Wait a second …

My eyes snapped open.

My entire body froze before I flipped over in bed.

Two very angry eyes were glaring right back at me. A very large and very rigid body was lying next to me, arms and legs wrapped around me.

Not a dream at all.

Kash was back.

Kash

She looked so goddamn good.

She smelled good.

She felt good.

Jesus Christ, she even sounded good.

I moved before I could stop myself.

I wanted to talk to her, question her, lecture her, but my mouth was on hers.

Lecturing would wait.





MULTIPLE WITNESSES FOR THE PROSECUTION MISSING

On Monday, the prosecution against Quinn Callas found themselves shorthanded when multiple witnesses did not show up for their testimony. The district attorney says investigations have been opened as to the whereabouts of each witness.

A GoFundMe page has been established to help support Quinn Callas’s defense team. Sources say she “didn’t fight her divorce to Peter Francis, leaving her with almost nothing.”

—Inside Daily Press





THIRTY-ONE

Bailey


“We need to talk,” he said as he came out of the bathroom.

God.

He was wearing track pants that fell low on his hips, and the rest of him was shirtless and barefoot. That body, those muscles. I could glide my hand over every dip and valley of his body and I’d never get enough. He had the V leading under his pants, and when he turned around, which he was doing as he was reaching for a shirt, I saw the back dimples, too.

Back dimples.

Time apart had made me an obsessed woman.

His words came to me, and I lay back down, closing my eyes. “I don’t want to talk.”

We had gone on a normal date, or normal for us, the last time I saw him.

I missed that. Making out in a movie theater. I wanted to do that again.

“Do you know anyone who had a normal childhood?” I sat up and scooted back to rest against the headboard.

Kash threw me a small frown. Henley in place, he was putting on socks and shoes. “Normal? Define ‘normal.’ ”

“Two parents. Middle class. A home.”

“That’s your problem. I don’t think we have normalcy anymore. I don’t know anyone who had that and only that. Why are you asking?” He stood, coming to stand beside me. I expected him to sit on the bed, but he didn’t. He remained standing, his head tilted to the side, and those eyes studying every angle of me.

I didn’t know how to say it so I just waved my hand at him.

He frowned. “What?”

“I don’t know.” I lied. I did know, so I started to scramble off the bed.

He caught my hand as I did and pulled me back to him. “Hey.”

God. I closed my eyes. He said that word so soft and quiet. It felt like a whole other caress from him, and he doubled down. His hand came up and he trailed a finger down the side of my face, lingering over my mouth, and then falling to my throat.

He murmured, so soft again. “What is it?”

I shook my head, coming out of my lusty daze. “You see everything.” I looked away, feeling exposed once again, but this time I was doing it. I was explaining myself. I was exposing myself. “I—you see all of me, and sometimes I don’t want to feel all of me. And I’m just having a moment, but it’ll pass, and right after, I’ll be flooded with appreciation because I know how amazing you are. I know how supportive, loving, caring, and I’m totally and completely aware of how utterly blessed I am to have you in it. But right now, I’m just having a moment.”