First Verse (Second Verse Book 1) (7 page)

That word was so dirty, so primal, that I had to catch my breath before I responded. “I don’t know, I’ll probably—” I started, but he decided to answer the question himself, his mouth hot and demanding as it greedily devoured my core. My legs stiffened around his shoulders. I felt the vibration of his teasing laughter against my flesh, and a second later, the velvety softness of his tongue as it pushed inside of me. He flicked it in and out, his mouth memorizing me, his fingertips rough on my thighs.

When I felt a long finger join his tongue, I bucked my hips. “Oohhh!” I cried out. He murmured something, and even though I wasn’t sure if Emmett was asking if I approved, I couldn’t help nodding my head feverishly. By the time the orgasm pulsed through me—and it didn’t take long—I was biting down hard enough on my lip to taste copper and tangling my hands in his curly dark hair.

When I loosened my grip, I let out a noise that sounded nothing like me. “Oh. My. God.”

Looking up at me, Emmett grinned cockily. “You want more?” he asked. My earlier reservations temporarily forgotten, I nodded. He licked my center. And every muscle in my body tightened. “What do you want, Angel?”

How the hell could he even ask me that when I was still writhing beneath him? “You!”

“For me to what?” Another lick—this one long and teasing and drawing a deep moan from the back of my throat. Dear Lord, this man was blessed with an epically talented tongue, and I was dangerously close to coming. Again. “Let me hear you say it like before.”

“Touch my pussy, Emmett. Just ...
touch
me.”

He sucked in a breath. “Do you know how sexy you are when you say that?”

“Show me.”

He gave my sex one last kiss before sitting up. He was still in a pair of black boxer briefs, but that didn’t hide the impressive bulge. Noticing my wide-eyed stare, he chuckled and pressed the palm of my hand to his cock. “You did this. You’ve been doing this since I laid eyes on you.”

My throat was dry as I scrambled to get up, but I still managed, “Do you want me to—”

“We’ll do that later, Angel. For now, I want you on your knees and elbows.” When I started to question him, he pressed a finger to my lips, repeating slowly, “On your knees and elbows.”

Nodding, I barely registered what he said next as he repositioned my legs, his fingers spreading me apart all over again, turning me into a trembling mess. “Please,” I murmured.

He leaned over me and pulled a gold condom packet out of the back pocket of his jeans. It took him twenty seconds flat to get himself ready, and then I sighed at the sensation of him rubbing himself back and forth over my sex. “Say that one more time,” he whispered. I looked over my shoulder at him, and he pushed himself a little inside me. He was deliciously thick, and I clenched myself around him and bucked my hips. He gripped my ass, stopping me. “Damn, you’re going to be my undoing.”

I didn’t think of how many times this gorgeous, insanely talented man might have said those exact same words to other women, because right now, he was mine.  I just wanted his hands on my body. I wanted his body in mine.

I wanted him
everywhere
.

“Please,” I murmured.

Then he was all over me—filling me, his teeth skimming my shoulder, his lips against my ear. I reveled in the sound of our bodies moving together and the squeak of the bed. And later, after we left the hotel room and he took me home, he kissed me softly as he helped me out of his truck. Then he said three words that made my heart soar:

“You are mine.”

E
mmett was
mine
during the next few weeks, and I couldn’t remember a time in my life when I was so ...
happy
. It didn’t matter to me that his sister refused to slither back to Texas or that whenever Mrs. H saw us together, her brow furrowed in a worried frown. The only thing I could think about was him. The way he was slowly learning my body during other times spent at that same hotel or in his truck or wherever else we could find a moment alone to devour each other. The way he said my name just after he kissed me. The way my chest tightened every time he looked in my direction. 

I was falling—hard. So damn hard that somehow, I’d forgotten that all good things had to come to an end. For me, it wasn’t the end of July, but a week before, when I came home from the nursery to find Hazel ransacking my bedroom.

“What are you doing?” I demanded. Before I could stop myself, I was halfway across the room, my hands on her shoulders as I jerked her to her feet. “Get the hell out.”

She shoved her face close to mine, a cruel gleam making her green eyes look like shiny marbles. “You stole my necklace, you trashy little bitch, so give it back before I call the cops.”

I froze, my brows drawing together in confusion. I released her shoulders and dragged my hands through my hair. “Okay, what is your deal with me? I haven’t touched anything of yours.”

“Right.” Pushing me aside, she stomped toward my closet, but I blocked her. “Move, slut,” she snapped. I put my hands on my hips and lifted my chin in defiance. Oh my god, this woman was a piece of work. Eventually, she shrugged a shoulder and smirked. “Fine then, have it your way.”

A few seconds after she pulled out her phone and punched in the numbers, making sure she jabbed all three buttons slowly and dramatically, I knocked the phone out of her hand. It landed on the braided rug between our feet.

“How can you call the cops when I have no idea what you’re accusing me of?” I shouted.

“Because if you didn’t do it, you’d move out of my way to let me in the closet.”

The sound of shuffling at my bedroom door dragged both our attention toward Mrs. Hudson. She gripped the doorway with one hand for support and flicked her gaze from me to her granddaughter, and then back again.

“What’s wrong?” she asked tiredly.

Since I was still at a loss, I held up my hands, shaking my head helplessly, but Hazel breezed past me to stand in front of her grandmother. “The Tiffany necklace Mom and Dad gave me for my birthday? It’s missing.” She rubbed her palm across her collarbone, and I held back the urge to roll my eyes at the theatrics. This was a serious accusation. One I was relieved had
nothing
to do with me. “Considering McKinsey’s had no problem taking things in the past, I wanted to make sure she didn’t—”

“Are you fucking with me?” I blurted out at the same time Mrs. H harshly whispered, “Do you know how serious it is to accuse McKinsey of something like that?”

Nodding, Hazel turned her back to Mrs. Hudson. Her green eyes were full of triumph as she waltzed to my closet. “Of course I know, but if she didn’t take anything, she wouldn’t have a problem with me looking, right? After all, I’ve already searched the rest of the room.”

“Without my permission,” I said through my teeth, and Mrs. H cast a disgusted look at Hazel.

It didn’t even faze her. “If Kinsey’s clean, I’ll apologize.”

Slowly Mrs. Hudson walked into the room and approached me. She took my hands into hers, and even though I knew what would happen next, my heart still felt like it was sinking when she said, “I know you didn’t take anything.” She took a deep breath, and I could see just how much this was hurting her. “But please, just to keep the peace ...”

Because I was sure there was a bottle or two leftover from the night Lyra stayed here, I was terrified of what Hazel would find in the closet, but I moved my head up and down. Mrs. H finding out I’d snuck alcohol in the house was so much better than leaving her to think I was a thief.

“Fine,” I whispered.

Wearing the most insincere forlorn expression I’d ever seen, Hazel knelt down on her hands and knees and poked her immaculately styled face into the closet just as the sound of heavy boots thundered up the stairs. I was already so mortified that I wanted the floor to swallow me. I wasn’t sure I could handle Emmett witnessing his sister make a fool of me.

When he popped his head into my room, I shot him a pleading look, but as soon as he took in the sight of Mrs. H and me—and his sister rummaging through my belongings—he was fully involved.

“What the hell is going on?”

“My Tiffany necklace is missing,” Hazel snapped. He walked into the room, stopping just a few feet away from me. I lowered my eyes to the floor. “Just wanted to make sure our resident thief didn’t get bored.”

“Don’t be a bitch,” he growled, and Mrs. Hudson gasped. “Sorry, Mim, but it’s true. Hazel’s had it out for—”

“What have we here?” his sister interrupted him, the surprise in her voice sounding unmistakably gleeful. The sound of bottles clinking together made me cringe, and when she plunked the half-empty box of wine coolers on the floor next to Mrs. Hudson’s feet, shame washed through me. A second later, Hazel threw something else out of the closet, and I was horrified when I focused in on a box of condoms.

“I’d remove the vibrator,” Hazel said, “But who knows where it’s been.”

“Please,” I whispered. “Stop.”

But she climbed as far into the closet as she could, making little oohs and ahhs, until Emmett rushed toward her, gripped her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. “This shit has to stop,” he roared.

But she shook her head. “I’m sorry your bang-buddy is a thief, little brother.” Despite Mrs. Hudson’s groan and the look of sheer disappointment that crept into her dark eyes, Hazel continued, “Who knows what else she’s stolen while living under this roof.” She lifted her hand so everyone in the room could see and slowly opened her fist.

At first, I wanted to believe she wasn’t holding anything.

She shouldn’t have been holding anything.

But then I saw the same necklace I’d given back to her after she dropped it on the porch a couple weeks ago. The one with the diamond olive leaf. My fingerprints were all over that thing, and who the hell knew what it was worth. Dread spread through my body as I backed toward my bedroom door and three sets of eyes turned to look at me.

Hazel’s conquest.

Mrs. Hudson’s disbelief.

And Emmett’s shattered heart.

♫

“I didn’t take anything,” I told Mrs. H frantically a half an hour later as Hazel talked to the cops. I’d been instructed not to leave the couch, so my foster mother sat a few inches away from me, staring numbly at the giant black and white blow-up of her wedding portrait that hung over the fireplace. “I swear I didn’t take it.”

Emmett had refused to listen to me—had refused to even look at me—but Mrs. H’s hand found mine, and she gave it a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll get this worked out, McKinsey.”

She believed me. I almost let out a sob of relief as she held my hand, but I said nothing. I said nothing when one of the officers told me they needed to take me in. Or when I walked past Hazel’s smirk. Or when Emmett turned his eyes from me as I was escorted to the squad car.

I said nothing, and hours later, as I sat in a holding cell because Hazel Hudson was most certainly pressing charges, I wished I would’ve opened my mouth.

♫

“Jesus, what the hell are you doing in here, girl?” the voice speaking to my back stopped me cold in my tracks, and I clutched the threadbare towel closer to my chest, breathing deeply before I gathered up the courage to turn around and face her. This was my third day here—the first I’d ventured into the general population.

I should’ve expected I’d run into
her
.

Two women stood in front of me, but my gaze zeroed in on the one I knew. The one who’d always left. I hadn’t seen her in nearly eighteen months, but she hadn’t changed a bit. Same smirk. Same mahogany hair hanging limply around a face that had gotten too old too soon, thanks to too much partying. Jessica Bell was a couple inches shorter than my five foot seven, but I still felt as small as a child when she swept her denim blue eyes over me.

“Mom,” I said, my voice raw.

“Give me minute,” she told her friend, who smirked at me before nodding and heading away. Putting her hand on her hips, my mother shook her head slowly in disappointment. “Come on, girl. Let’s go sit down.”

From our new spot on the floor with our backs to the wall, Mom gazed out at a group of women playing cards and rubbed the tips of her thumb and middle finger together—the same way she always did when she was deep in thought. At last, she looked at me. “I’d told myself you were smart enough not to end up in here.”

“Wasn’t I bred for this?” I snapped, and when her eyes hardened, I stared down at the floor, shuffling my feet until a scuff mark formed on the slick surface. Mrs. H would be so disappointed in me if she heard me talk to my mom like that. I twisted the collar of my shirt between my fingers, wishing my key necklace hadn’t been taken during booking. “Sorry.”

“I probably deserve it.”

She did, but that didn’t mean I needed to be rude to her. I licked my lips. “I didn’t do it, Mom.”

She snorted. “That’s what they all say, sugar.”

“Is Dad in here too?”

When she laughed, I felt the sharp slap of ridicule taking in her incredulous expression. “Do you see your dad?” She held her arms out wide, gesturing to all the women around us. “How the fuck should I know where he is?”

Which meant he was the reason why she was behind bars in the first place. Why wasn’t I surprised? Clearing my throat, I brought my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms tightly around them. “Are you going to be here for a while? Just in case ...” But my mother moved her head from side to side. Coldness whooshed through my chest.

“Thank
god
, my three months are up next week.” She tilted her head to the side, narrowing her eyes. “From that scared look on your face, I’m guessing you don’t know how long you’ll be here.”

“I didn’t do it,” I whispered. “So I’ll be fine. Someone will come for me, and I’ll be fine.”

Her lips parted to say something, but then she stopped herself. Gulped down whatever she was about to say that would rip me apart a little more. “I sure as hell hope so, Kinsey.”

An awkward, painful silence settled over us until finally my mother scooted to her feet. Wiping dust off her ass, she stared down at me and the pity in her gaze numbed me. “Once your time is through, we could try to fix things. I was a baby myself when I had you, but I’ll try my best.”