Dirty Little Lies: A Men of Summer Novel (28 page)

After creating another digital file, she began to log each piece of information and notate it back to others that tied in with it. It kept her busy, kept her from considering other suspicions, other lies, while Zack met with her uncle and cousins and the men watching the house.

Kin wasn’t just a title given to some covert group. They were called Kin because family ties, loyalty, and a belief in the preservation of freedom bound them. Politics weren’t an agenda with them. If the time ever came that America was betrayed by its own government, then the Kin would stand against it as well.

It was hidden in layers upon layers of secrecy, behind individuals, some supposedly not so patriotic, others with less-than-sterling characters. All tied to the family but with no obvious link to them.

Illegitimate children marrying into political families, while others laid out their own paths to place themselves in a position of strength, defined the Kin.

There had always been those who tried to betray them. What stopped them was that with the exception of the main family, no one knew what everyone else was doing or what they were really a part of. It was how they stayed safe.

But now, someone in that family was far too close to possessing information that would allow them to use it, to sell the secrets built upon over generations to weaken the defenses in place.

It came down to control. Someone believed they should have it, and hated Vince because he was strong enough to keep it.

The fact that the answers she’d needed to find hadn’t been readily apparent during the earlier meeting bothered her. She could sense them, something she’d glimpsed in an expression that wasn’t clear enough, kept teasing at her memory. A flash of guilt or knowledge. But so much had been going on, all of them talking at once in some cases, and all of them angry, that keeping up hadn’t always been easy.

The information laid out around her kept her so deep in the past that when Zack came up to inform her it was time for supper, she looked up in surprise, realizing she was starving.

Grilled steaks and potatoes waited on the deck in the backyard, the succulent meat and fluffy potatoes grilled perfectly. A light breeze flowed off the water and made into the protected area, whispering through the mountains and easing around them.

“Come inside and talk to me for a bit.” The request was more an order after they cleaned up.

Grace nodded hesitantly and followed him into the house, through the kitchen, and into the television room behind it.

A pool table stood at one end of the room, an old pinball machine not far from it. A large-screen television hung on the opposite wall with a large, overstuffed L-shaped couch and two recliners positioned for optimal viewing.

A well-stocked bar was placed close to the double doors, the mirrored shelf behind it filled with various bottles and glasses. He moved behind the bar, took down a short whiskey glass, and uncorked a bottle of whiskey before splashing some into the glass.

“Want some?” He held the bottle up in invitation.

Her brow arched. “I really don’t think that’s a good idea. You want me sober for this discussion, don’t you?”

His lips quirked at the reminder that she didn’t handle alcohol well at all.

“You really haven’t gotten to have a lot of fun lately, have you?” he asked, the gentleness in his voice immediately capturing her attention.

Lifting the glass to his lips, he sipped the liquor, watching her closely, the thoughtful expression on his face causing her heart to pick up in speed and a sense of nervousness to rush through her.

He and Cord both had expected more from that meeting today, she thought. She had, as well. It was there, she just had to figure out everything she’d begun tying together.

“I expected Cord to call by now.” She raked her fingers through her hair, fidgeting as he rested his elbows on the bar and just watched her silently, sipping occasionally at the whiskey. “He’s a little harder to read than most. Kind of like you,” she told him. “But I can’t stop feeling he didn’t get something he wanted, something he expected. I thought he would have come up and talked to me about it before leaving.”

“Hmm,” Zack murmured, sipping at the amber liquid as she pushed her hands into the pockets of the soft, flowing skirt she’d changed into after arriving back at the house. “I like that skirt. It looks pretty on you.”

The compliment threw her for a moment. She hadn’t expected it. “Uh, thank you.” She cleared her throat, her hands clenching in the hidden pockets of the pale cream and sapphire blue chiffon and silk.

When paired with the light, sleeveless summer knit top that buttoned just above the cleavage of her breasts, it gave her a soft, feminine look she liked.

“You always dress pretty,” he murmured, shifting behind the bar as he continued to watch her with that thoughtful look. “I’d like to see you in cut-offs, a T-shirt, and sneakers, though. Just for the hell of it.”

“I wear those to work in my flower garden.” She shrugged, frowning. “We were talking about Cord, though.”

He grimaced at the reminder. “I don’t want to talk about Cord. He pisses me off enough whenever I’m forced to talk to him. I’d prefer not to talk about him.”

He finished his drink, then fixed another, his movements unhurried, almost relaxed.

“That isn’t what I’ve seen when the two of you are together,” she told him, ignoring the dark look he flashed her as he sipped at the drink.

“It’s complicated,” he admitted. “But still, not what I want to talk about tonight.”

She stepped to the barstool at the farthest end of the bar from him and gripped the seat back as she watched him warily. “What do you want to talk about, then?” she asked, her fingers clenching on the wood of the barstool. “Besides my clothes, that is.”

His lips quirked at that, his lashes shielding his gaze for a moment as he stared at her. “Your clothes are far more interesting, I have to admit.” He grinned. “The lack of your clothes is even more interesting.”

Grace could feel herself flushing. She wasn’t certain how she could actually blush after the things they’d done together sexually. The heat moved from her neck over her face though at the same time her breasts swelled further, her nipples peaking harder beneath her bra.

Not that her body wasn’t already primed for him—it was. She stayed primed for his touch. But at the mention of lack of clothes, it kicked into an accelerated rate of arousal. It was highly disconcerting.

He finished his drink, set the glass aside, and returned to his previous position, elbows resting on the bar as he leaned forward, catching his weight on them. His expression was still far too thoughtful, too watchful. He was looking for something without giving away so much as a hint of what he wanted or what he was thinking.

“Is that what we’re discussing, then?” she asked, fighting to hide her nervousness. “The lack of my clothes?”

His lips twitched in amusement. “Only if you’re taking them off.”

“Take yours off first,” she suggested, suddenly far too interested in this conversation. “Then we’ll discuss whether or not I take off mine.”

He laughed, surprised pleasure flashing across his expression as his teeth flashed in amusement. “You got me on that one,” he admitted. “I’d personally prefer you take yours off first.”

“Personal preference doesn’t mean you’ll get your way,” she sighed teasingly, barely able to keep her heart from pounding out of her chest, it was racing so hard.

He wagged his finger back at her, the sensual intent on his face increasing as he watched her. “I owe you a spanking.”

“So you said, on several occasions.” She smiled, resting her arms on the back of the stool before laying her chin against them. “And I keep telling you I’m a good girl. Ask anyone.”

“Hmm, but you wanna be bad, don’t you, baby?” he drawled. “You like it when I make you be bad. Admit it.”

Oh God …

She couldn’t breathe. She could barely think.

He was far too dangerous, far too sexy.

“I’m still deciding.” She gave a teasing little wrinkle of her nose and decided she liked him when he was playful like this.

Never admit to anything when it comes to the opposite sex, her Aunt Mary had laughingly advised her on more than one occasion. They don’t need to know too much too soon.

A crooked grin tilted his lips before he scratched at his cheek thoughtfully. “Think it will take you long to decide? I was considering other ways you could be bad. If you wanted to be, that is?”

“Now, Zack, I’m always open to suggestions,” she assured him breathlessly, far too hot and creaming her panties like never before. “You’ll just have to let me know what you have in mind. When the time’s right, of course.”

He eased closer until he was directly across from her before resuming his previous position, glanced behind her, then met her gaze with seductive intent. “Has a lover ever actually spanked you?” he questioned her softly. “Spanked that pretty ass as he fucked you from behind? Or at your sweet pussy until you were crazy to be fucked, only to spank it instead until you screaming for release?”

Her heart rate was going to strangle her any second. “No.” Grace swallowed tightly. “No, can’t say I have.”

Anticipation filled the smile that tugged at his lips. “I could show you how bad you want to be, Grace,” he offered, wicked, knowing hunger gleaming in his eyes. “If you wanted to stick around for a while.”

If she wanted to stick around for a while?

Her heart stopped for precious seconds; she swore it did. She lost her breath, her ability to function or even think until it suddenly jumped back into action and slammed into her throat. “I could be convinced to stick around for a while,” she finally answered, staring back at him, terrified she might be misunderstanding something.

Did he actually mean he wanted her to stay, even after all this was over?

“It could take a while.” He nodded then. “Being bad isn’t an overnight process, you know?”

She nodded at that. “I would imagine it isn’t.” Grace licked her dry lips nervously.

“And it would be understood there is to be no experimenting with anyone else.” Something hard and possessive flashed in his eyes. “It would be just between us. Period.”

Grace lifted her head from her arms and drew in a hard breath. “Zack, are you asking me to move in with you, after this is over?” She had to be certain. If she let herself believe it, then found out he’d meant something else, it would destroy her.

“I’m asking you to belong to me—just me, Grace. Beginning now,” he amended, his eyes darkening with far more than simple lust.

“I already belong to you,” she whispered.

He nodded at that. “No more running to the guest room because you’re pissed. You sleep in my bed, we’ll work out any problems that come up. We’ll take things slow and easy, but we work at making it work. Agreed?”

Okay, that sounded easy enough. “Agreed.” She finally nodded.

“Promise me,” he urged, that sensual, dark hunger gleaming in the depths of his eyes. “Promise me, Grace. We work out any problems and make it work.”

She felt dazed by her own arousal, and that look of wicked intent she could see on his face. “I promise,” she agreed. “We work out any problems and make it work.”

Just like any relationship, she thought. Not that she’d heard of Zack having many of those. Hell, she hadn’t really had an intimate relationship herself. Having a lover wasn’t the same thing. And Zack would never be like any other lover.

Straightening he stalked from behind the bar, Zack came around to her and as she turned to face him reached behind her to swing the barstool around. Strong, broad hands gripped her hips and lifted her to the seat, moving between her thighs, his hips pressing into the vee of her legs, the hard wedge of his cock cushioned against her sex.

“You know,” he murmured, one hand lifting to cup the side of her head. “I’ve fantasized for years about corrupting all that innocence I see in your eyes.” His head lowered, lips brushing against hers as he continued to stare down at her. “It might take me a long, long time to do that.”

The all-too-brief kiss he gave her just left her hungrier for more.

“A long time,” she whispered, her breath catching as the material of her skirt was pushed to the furthermost point of her thighs.

Grace held on to his arms, loving the feel of his biceps flexing beneath her fingers, the way the muscles of his shoulders rippled beneath his hard flesh.

She stared up at him, biting her lip to hold back everything she wanted to say, to confess as dazed anticipation rocked her senses.

“Sweet Grace.” His lips brushed against hers again. “Love me, baby. Just love me.”

Just love him?

“I always have.” She fought to speak as she fought for breath, excitement stealing her ability to process much beyond the sheer, overwhelming implications of the request. “Don’t you know, Zack? I always have.”

His head tilted, one hand cupping the back of her neck, the other bracing against the bar behind her as his lips came overs with such heated, hungry demand that it rocked her senses. He kissed her like he was dying for the touch, the taste of her. For all of her.

And she could only give him all of her, not that she’d held much back to begin with. All she’d tried to keep from him was that part of her heart that would keep her world from collapsing entirely if she lost him. But she’d lost even that part of her heart already, she admitted.

Holding on to him, her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers burrowing through his hair to hold him to her, Grace reveled in him. The feel of him, the heat of his hard body, the sexual intensity that became so focused on her.

One hand moved to her thigh, lifting it along his, giving him better access to press the hard, denim-covered length of his cock into her sex. Heat spilled from her vagina, sensation tightened her clit and sent those spirals of pleasure rushing through her body and her senses. Drugged, drunk of the high his touch gave her, Grace reveled in every second of it.

So much so that the strident, irritating sound of Zack’s cell phone didn’t immediately register. Not until his lips pulled from hers, a frustrated curse slipping from his them, did she even acknowledge the distinctive, discordant ring.