My head lands on his shoulder. I don’t want to hear anymore, and hate myself for it.
“That’s why I had to become someone else.”
As a journalist, I’m trained to hear a story and not make it personal. But itispersonal. We both have feelings for one another and have been intimate.
How could I not care?
“How did it end?”
“Sofia came in one night and caught him. The next day he fired her, and the next week I was sent to boarding school.” He turns to face me, our eyes having a conversation of their own before his forehead drops to mine. “Mama saved me, Brook. Itwould have gone on for many more years if she hadn’t. She saved me.”
I wrap my arms around him as best I can. “God, I’m sorry. I want to kill that man.”
“I’ve spent a lot of years wanting to do the same.” Travis rasps. “I could have. I have the means to, but destroying his life and making him watch it all crumble around him is going to be so much more satisfying.”
I could have. He means he could have hired someone to do it, and no one would ever be able to find out it was him. Or link them. Not with his new identity.
“Why didn’t you?” I straighten.
I know what he said before, but I think there’s more to it than that. Killing your father, despite what he did to you, is not something someone decides to do easily.
He looks me dead in the eye. “Because that prick destroyed most of my soul. I didn’t want him to take the rest of it.”
The heat of his body draws me in. I want to be closer. Climbing onto his lap, I wrap my arms around his neck.
“And I’m not fucking letting him take you from me either.” Travis rasps.
Slam.
His mouth crushes to mine.
I don’t stop him. I don’twantto stop him. Does his story excuse the lies he told me? No.
Maybe.
I don’t know.
All I know is we both need to be connected in the most intimate way only two people can be.
Then I’ll grieve and say goodbye.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
TRAVIS
––––––––
Brook submits as I slide her under me and cover her small body with mine. Our mouths lick and bite at each other as I rip her nightie and tiny panties from her.
“Trav.”
“I need your pussy,” I growl.
“Yes,” she replies, but it sounds like a plea.
When she’s bare, and my shirt is tossed across the room and zipper down, I shove my face between her legs.
She grabs my hair and lets out a cry.
