Chapter Six
Isla
"Mac Sterling, put that back right now."
I step into my parents' kitchen just in time to see my dad grab a cookie from the tray in front of my mom, Jenna. She swats at him, trying to grab it back, but there's no stopping my dad when it comes to sweets. He shoves the whole thing in his mouth, smirking as he pulls her into his arms.
"Put what back?" he asks around a mouthful.
My mom huffs, scowling up at him. "These are for Duke's bake sale."
"So, charge me, Dimples." He dips his head, brushing his lips across hers. "You know I'm buying the fucking things anyway. You made them."
She sighs quietly, and then laughs against his lips. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"Damn right, I am. You're mine. That means your cookies are mine, too." His hand slips down her back, heading toward her ass.
I quickly clear my throat, letting them know I'm here before I see things I'll never be old enough to see. There's a reason we have two little brothers and a sister. He's the reason. He's shameless when it comes to my mom. He always has been.
My mom springs away from him, her eyes lighting up when she spots me standing in the doorway. "Baby girl! I'm so happy you're home!" she cries, rushing across the room to hug me like she hasn't seen me in weeks even though I was just here yesterday morning.
That's the thing about her, though. From the very first day she came into our lives when Bella and I were little girls, she's given us every piece of her heart. She loves us like we're her own, and my twin and I have always loved her the same way.
When we were little, we used to wish that she'd been our real mom instead of Marion. And then we realized that, in every way that counts, she is our real mom. She may not have given birth to me and Bella like she did our brothers and sister, but that doesn't change the fact that she's always been the one who loved us unconditionally, was there for us, protected us, helped provide for us, and made sure we knew, every single day, that we were enough exactly the way we were. She's always loved us the same way she loves Duke, Elliot, and Morgan.
"Hi, Mama." I squeeze her tight, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Is he misbehaving again?"
She laughs quietly, peeking over her shoulder at my dad, who grins at us. "Isn't he always?"
"Watch it, baby doll," he growls, narrowing his eyes on her as he leans back against the counter, crossing his arms. His eyes come to me, his expression soft. "Hey, pirate princess."
"Hi, Daddy. Why are you home today?"
"Helping your mom bake for your brother's bake sale."
Mom rolls her eyes. "He needs to get out of my kitchen and leave me alone is what he needs to do. He's eating them as fast as I get them finished."
Dad grins, completely unrepentant, and then he cocks his head to the side, looking at me again. "Why didn't you come home last night?"
"Dad," I groan. "I told you that I was staying at the apartment so I didn't have to get up early to make it to campus."
"I don't like it," he complains. "It's safer for you here."
"I'm perfectly safe there."
"You'd be safer here where I can keep an eye on you. Until they find the men responsible for Bellamy's murder, you need to stick close to home, sweetheart," he says.
I glance at my mom for help.
"He's right," she says gently, betraying me.
"Mama!" I cry.
"Sorry, sweet girl." She shrugs, her expression full of apology. "But I worry about you out there on your own, especially right now."
"I'm fine," I insist.
My dad's cell rings, distracting him before he can launch into a lecture about all the reasons I'm not fine. He's given a lot of those lately. And I get why he's worried. I even get that he has reason to worry. But if he keeps me locked up here, I'm screwed. I'll never be able to help figure out who killed Bellamy. Bella will be stuck in Texas forever. And I'll never see Brantley again. Because—call me crazy—but I don't think my dad will jump for joy if I tell him that I went to see him in the first place.
He'll know exactly why I was there, and he'll freak out. He's overprotective to a fault. And I don't want to be shipped off to Texas before Brantley and I ever even have a chance. I need time with him. And I need my dad to like him. But I'm a little worried that won't ever happen, especially if he knows how much I like him.
"I need to take this," Dad murmurs, striding from the room.
"Thank God," my mom says loud enough for him to hear. "My cookies are finally safe."
He shoots her a dark look over his shoulder. "I heard that, Dimples."
"You were supposed to hear that, Mac."
He shakes his head, smiling, as he disappears into the living room to take his call.
I sigh, throwing myself down into a chair at the table with a scowl.
"It's not so bad, baby girl," Mom murmurs. "It's not forever."
"Easy for you to say. He's here with you," I mutter.
She gasps quietly, spinning to face me.
Crap.
"You met someone?"
"I…didn't say that."
"Isla Marie Sterling."
I grimace, my shoulders drooping as I bury my face in my hands. "Yes," I groan. "I met someone. But you can't tell Dad! It's new. And if he finds out, you know he'll act all crazy about it. He'll scare him off before we ever even have a chance."
"He wouldn't do that, baby girl."
I drop my hands, staring at her incredulously. "He tried to insist on parent chaperones at prom just so he could keep an eye on us! And Bella and I didn't even have dates!"
She laughs quietly as she rolls out cookie dough onto a sheet. "Okay, maybe you're right. But he's only crazy because he worries about you girls."
"I know," I groan. "But he doesn't need to worry so much. We aren't little girls anymore. We're adults. Eventually, he has to realize that."
Mom laughs again. "Baby girl, the second hardest thing your daddy has ever had to face is the fact that you girls are grown up. Believe me, he knows. He hates it, but he knows. That's why he worries so much. He can't protect you from everything anymore. He has to let you fight your own battles now. It drives him crazy."
"I know," I whisper, feeling guilty for being annoyed. My dad is the most amazing dad. He loves us fiercely. He always has. I think, in a way, he's always fought for us harder because of what Marion did. He carries a lot of guilt about it, even now. But it wasn't his fault. He didn't make her the way she was, and he didn't make her choices for her. All he did was love us. She's the one who couldn't handle the fact that he loved us. "I love him for loving us. I just…really don't want him scaring this guy off."
"Tell me about him," my mom says.
I hesitate, not sure how much to say. She and my dad don't have secrets. They tell each other everything. So I don't want to put her in a position where she has to lie to him. But I don't want to lie to her, either.
"Can I keep him to myself for a little while?" I whisper.
"Yeah, sweetheart. You can do that." She glances over at me, smiling. "Just…be safe, okay? And be smart."
"I will," I promise. And then I chew on my bottom lip, thinking. "Hey, Mama?"
"Yeah?"
"How did you know you were in love with Dad?"
She stops rolling out the dough and turns to me, her expression soft. "You think you love him, Isla?"
"I…" I swallow hard, nodding. "It's too soon, isn't it?"
"Does it feel too soon to you?"
I shake my head silently.
"Then it isn't too soon, sweetheart. No one gets to decide for you when you know. Only you get to do that."
I nod, processing her answer and then I sigh. "I'm worried about him. He's…been through some things. Things like Bella and I went through, only worse."
"How much worse?"
"Locked in a closet for days at a time worse," I whisper, tears welling in my eyes all over again at the thought of what Brantley went through. No, that's not right. He didn't go through it in a vacuum. It wasn't an isolated experience, some random occurrence. He was put through it over and over again by someone who was supposed to protect him. "He still has nightmares."
"Oh, sweetheart." She crosses to me, wrapping her arms around me in a fierce hug. "That poor man."
"Yeah," I whisper, resting my head against her arm. "And the worst part is that no one even knows. People say all these awful things about him that aren't true. And they say great things about his dad, but the man was a monster."
"You're talking about Brantley Hill, aren't you?" she guesses, her blue eyes locked on my face, missing nothing. "He's the one you're falling in love with."
"I…" I freeze, panic shooting through me.
"It's okay," she murmurs, touching my cheek. "You don't have to tell me if I'm right. I promised to let you keep him to yourself for a little while, and I won't go back on that now. You trust him, and that's enough for me because I know you. You don't trust easily, and your heart has never once steered you wrong. If it's guiding you to him now, then that's for a reason."
I exhale a tiny breath, relieved she isn't yelling for my dad or threatening to lock me up and throw away the key. Part of me was a little afraid she might. But I should have known better. That's never been her way. She's always been my biggest cheerleader.
"I'm glad he told you the truth, even if no one else knows it. Maybe someday, he'll be ready to share it with others," she says. "Seems to me people should know the man they're tearing apart and blaming has been through enough hell in his life without them adding to it."
"He doesn't want everyone to know because of his mom. She's sick." My brows furrow. "It's complicated."
"It usually is, sweetheart. Just…be patient with him, all right? He probably hasn't had much softness in his life. And learning to love can be terrifying, especially when you've never had that. If anyone can help him do that, you can. You're a special kind of sweetness, Isla. You always have been."
"Thanks, Mama." I turn in my chair, flinging my arms around her in a tight hug. "I love you."
"I love you too, sweetheart." She runs her hand through my hair. "Now, do you want to help me finish these cookies before I have to duct tape Mac to a chair to keep his hands off them?"
I laugh at her threat, shaking my head. "I actually can't. I have something I need to do today."
Her gaze flickers over my face. "I don't suppose it has anything to do with a certain record executive, does it?"
"Maybe," I whisper.
"I'll keep Mac occupied. Just promise me that you'll be back here tonight, please. He barely slept all night, worrying about you."
"Yeah, I can do that," I murmur, more than willing to compromise if it means I'm allowed out of the house without a freaking escort.
"Fuck," Brantley growls two hours later, glancing up at me from behind his father's desk when Daniel shows me into his office, closing the door behind me. "You're precisely what I needed to see today, little bird."
"Then surprise!" I say cheerfully, crossing the massive office toward him with a smile on my face. I navigate around boxes, my eyes locked on his face. He seems…tense. Stressed. I'm guessing that probably has to do with the fact that he's in his father's office, going through his stuff.
He pushes the chair back from the antique desk as I approach, his eyes darkening. I stop only long enough to kick my heels off before I crawl onto his lap, straddling his legs.
He wraps his hands around my waist, pulling me up against his chest. "What are you doing here, baby?"
"Came to see you," I whisper, looping my arms around his neck. "Is that a crime?"
"Hell no." His hands slide down to my ass, squeezing. "It's a fucking reward." He tips his head forward, claiming my mouth in a hot kiss. By the time he lets me up, I'm wet and aching, panting for breath. "You can come see me anytime you want."
"Oh, really?" I tease, breathless. "You won't kick me out again?"
"Remembered that, huh?"
"You mean you expected me to forget being marched out of here by a cowboy? Yeah, not happening."
He chuckles, cocking his head to the side. "In my defense, it was an act of desperation."
"Oh, yeah? You were that desperate to get rid of me, huh?"
"No. I was that desperate not to drop to my knees and agree to whatever the hell you wanted," he growls, his eyes locked on my face. "You waltzed in here, sweet as pie, and sent me into a tailspin, little bird."
"Interesting," I murmur, running my fingers through his hair. "You sent me into a tailspin before I ever walked through the doors."
"Yeah?" He grins, slipping his hand beneath my skirt. "Lucky me."
I shiver at the feel of his hand against my bare skin, heat twisting through me. This is the absolute last place I should be thinking about sex, but I'm thinking about it anyway. Judging by the look in his eyes, he's thinking about it too.
"What are you doing in here?" I ask, trying to distract myself from thinking about sex.
"Going through his shit. Figured maybe there was something in here the police missed," he says, slipping his hand between my legs. His pinky runs along the seam of my panties, teasing me. "Can't help you bring your sister home without names."
I gasp, gaping at him. "What?"
"You heard me." He inches my panties to the side, licking his lips. "I'm going to help you. But we're doing it my way. I take all the risk, not you. That's non-negotiable."
"But…"
"No buts, Isla." He sinks his pinky into me all the way to the knuckle. "We do it my way. Or not at all."
"Yes," I moan.
"Good girl," he whispers.
"You a-aren't playing fair."
"Oh, I know." He smirks at me. "But this is too important to play fair, little bird. I won't let you put yourself in danger. I won't let you get hurt. That's not happening." He thrusts his pinky in and out of me, leaving me trembling on top of him. "His shit doesn't get to taint you, Isla."
"Brantley," I moan.
"Christ, I love the way you moan my name when you want to come," he growls, leaning forward to nip my throat. "Want to know what I've been thinking about all day?"
"Yes," I gasp.
"He used to get pissed if I touched anything on his desk. So I've been sitting here all day, fantasizing about fucking you over it, just because I can. Just because it's not his desk anymore." He nips my throat again. "You want to help me remind myself that everything in this building is mine now, little bird?"
"God, yes," I moan. It's filthy and dark, a big middle finger to the man who tormented him. But there's an undercurrent of healing to it too, like he's finally proving to himself that his father has no control over him or his life anymore. He's claiming this space and everything in it as his own, removing every trace of his father from it.
If wiping his father's memory from the building brings him even a measure of peace, I'm all in. And if fucking me over Bellamy's desk brings him even a second of pleasure while he does it, then I'll gladly offer myself up. I'll willingly burn.
He holds me to him with one hand, reaching out with the other to swipe everything from the surface of the desk. Stacks of paperwork, office supplies, and the monitor crash to the floor at our feet as Brantley stands, laying me out on the surface of the desk.
"Make me yours," I whisper, my back bowing from the hard wood.
"You're already mine," he growls, chasing my lips with his. He kisses me hard, his hands slipping beneath my skirt again to slide it up my hips. My panties get pulled to the side, tugged out of the way by his impatient hands. I cry out against his lips as he plays with me, his talented fingers quickly driving me toward the brink.
But he doesn't let me go over. Right when I'm on the edge, he pulls back, kissing his way down my body. My shirt comes up, his lips seeking out every spot he learned last night.
"Goddamn, little bird," he growls against my skin. "I love the way you whimper and moan when I've got my mouth on you."
"I love when you have your mouth on me!" As soon as the words leave my lips, I realize I haven't had my mouth on him yet. Not in the same way. "I want my mouth on you, Brantley."
He groans against my skin, his wild eyes meeting mine. "What?"
That needy, desperate look on his face makes me bold. "I want your cock in my mouth."
"Jesus," he rasps, immediately reaching for his pants with shaking hands. "You really are trying to kill me, aren't you, baby?"
"No. I'm trying to ruin you," I whisper, licking my lips when he pulls his dick out. "I'm trying to replace every bad memory with something new, something better. When you sleep at night, this is what I want you to dream about."
"It's fucking working, little bird." He swallows hard. "May not ever forget you asking to suck my cock."
"Good. You aren't supposed to forget it."
He steps closer to the desk, his fist wrapped around his shaft. "Have mercy on me, baby. You're a fucking goddess. I'm just a man. You may kill me."
I grin at him, turning my face to nuzzle his cock. I don't know why I do it. It just feels right in that moment. I just want to feel him burning hot against my cheek. And I really want to hear him.
He doesn't disappoint.
He growls, a desperate, broken sound that sends lava through my veins. His hand spears into my hair, tugging gently. It's more like he's trying to root himself to reality than to control anything I'm doing though.
I turn my head further, flicking my tongue out to taste him. His tangy taste bursts on my tongue, and I moan, immediately loving it.
"Ah, fuck," he groans, his eyes falling closed as he bucks his hips. "That's already too goddamn good."
I lick all over the head of his cock, loving his taste and the sounds he makes. And then I wrap my lips around him, pulling him into my mouth. A gush of fluid hits the back of my throat, choking me.
I pull back, startled.
"Fuck," he groans, eyes wide and dilated. "Do that again, little bird."
I suck him into my mouth again.
"Goddammit," he chokes out, tugging on my hair. "You look so fucking pretty with my dick in your mouth, Isla."
I sob around him, taking him deeper. He hits the back of my throat, so I hollow my cheeks, sucking hard, running my tongue around him.
He shouts my name, bucking his hips.
My entire body burns, sizzling and screaming with desire as I work him in and out of my mouth, taking him as far as I can before I pull back and then start all over.
"That mouth," he growls, pulsing his hips. "Christ, that fucking mouth."
I hum around him…which he really seems to like. His eyes flash to mine, a growl rumbling in his throat.
"Keep doing that."
I plunge down on him, humming again.
He groans, ripping himself out of my mouth.
I open my mouth to protest, but he's on me before I can even say a word, kissing me like he's trying to steal the breath from my lungs. I mewl into his mouth…and then cry out as his hand slips between my legs, working my clit with sinful precision.
"Please, please," I sob against his lips, writhing all over the desk.
"Please what?" he whispers against my lips. "Please keep doing this? Think I will, little bird."
"Please fuck me, Brantley!" I plead. That's what I want. Not his fingers. Not his mouth. I want his cock. I want him inside me, so deep I can't think or breathe.
"Mm, since you asked so nicely," he chuckles, flipping me around on the desk until I'm bent over the side with him leaning over my back. His lips touch the side of my neck. "Hold on tight, baby."
I grip the edges…
And then shout his name as he slams inside me in one deep, delicious thrust, holding me in place with his hand against my shoulder.
The groan rolling from his lips has my inner muscles fluttering around him as it immediately sends me shooting to the edge. It's the sexiest damn sound I've ever heard.
"Christ, you feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock," he groans. "Exactly like this is where you're supposed to be."
"It is," I moan, wiggling beneath him, trying to get him to move. God. I need him to move. "Make me yours again, Brantley."
"I told you that you're already mine, Isla. But I guess you need a reminder." He nips the shell of my ear, tipping his hips back before slamming into me again.
I flatten myself over the desk, trying to stifle my cries. It feels so good. God, everything about him behind me, fully dressed, my skirt hiked up around my waist, as he fucks me over the desk, feels far too good.
Or maybe it's the fact that it's his father's old desk heightening sensations. Maybe it's the fact that Brantley isn't helpless anymore, trapped by a monster. He gets to decide what happens to him now. He gets to make his own choices and decide his own fate. And with every thrust, every groan, he frees himself a little more. He becomes a little more his own and a little less his father's.
He fucks me like he's never going to stop, driving into me again and again. I shatter apart on his cock once and then again. My legs collapse, but he just hauls me up, pinning me to the desk as he pounds into me, groaning in my ear, telling me how damn good I feel and what a good girl I am, letting him fuck me like this.
Every filthy word embeds him deeper under my skin, making me more his than my own. And I love it a little too much. Because I feel more free—more like myself—with him inside me, grunting praise in my ear, than I've ever felt.
"Please, please," I sob, when another orgasm comes barreling toward me, bigger than the others. Massive enough to annihilate me.
"Take it, Isla," he growls, slipping his hand between my body and the desk, seeking out my clit. "Take the pleasure my body is giving you. You earned it, little bird." His lips run along the side of my throat, his kisses full of adoration. "Christ, you deserve nothing but pleasure, baby."
I sob his name, my inner muscles flutter around his cock. "So d-do you. Nothing but pleasure and h-happiness."
He groans my name, burying his face against my throat. "It's impossible not to fall for you, isn't it? You're too fucking perfect."
My heart stops beating for a second, the gentle affection in his voice—the truth in his confession—ripping through me. Holy crap. I think he…
My orgasm slams into me, knocking me breathless.
I convulse beneath him, coming so hard I nearly pass out as wave after wave crashes through me. He roars my name, slamming himself deep and then falling still. A moment later, I feel his cock twitching and jerking as he releases deep inside me, filling me full of him.
I slump beneath him, panting for breath. Shaken all the way to my soul. Brantley Hill is falling in love with me too.
It's too soon. It's way too damn soon. And yet…it's not.
"You okay, baby?" he asks a few minutes later, pulling me off the desk into his arms as he settles into the chair again. He brushes hair out of my face, running his lips across my forehead.
"Yes." I bury my face in his throat, breathing him in. "I'm perfect."
He rubs my back, holding me close. For long moments, we sit just like that, simply holding each other, before I feel compelled to speak again.
"This is your company now, Brantley. Your building. His ghost only lingers if you let it."
"I know, little bird," he says quietly. "And I don't intend to let it."
"Good because you deserve peace." I cup his cheek, smiling at him. "If I have to show up here every day to help you find it, that's what I'll do."
"You would, wouldn't you?"
"Yeah, I would," I whisper, my heart in my throat. "Because it's impossible not to fall for you too."
He falls still, his eyes fluttering closed before he groans softly, pressing his forehead to mine. "We're really fucking up this whole plan of yours, aren't we?"
"Plan?" My brows furrow, confusion funneling through me.
"Yeah. I help you. You go back to your life. I go back to mine. That plan."
"Oh." I laugh ruefully. "Yeah, I guess we are, aren't we?"
"You upset about it?"
"Not even a little bit," I whisper, earning a smile from him. And then I bite my lip. "I am worried though, Brantley."
He pulls back, glancing at me. "About what?"
"About you. About my dad." I shrug. "About everything."
"Explain."
"You're having nightmares. You're dealing with a lot. It worries me," I admit, stroking his cheek. "I want you to be okay because you deserve that."
"I'm good, little bird."
"You're not," I whisper. "And that's what worries me. The fact that you think you are."
He brushes his lips across my forehead again, but he doesn't deny that I'm right. I think we both know that he can't. He can tell himself all day long that he's good and that he's fine, but I don't think he's ever been either. He's just been faking it, holding it together with duct tape and glue because he didn't know what else to do. Sooner or later though, the duct tape gives out and the glue wears thin.
That's why Daniel is here. Because Daniel knows it too. And he's just waiting for the day Brantley cracks, doing what he can in the meantime to make sure that crack doesn't split his friend in half.
"Just promise me that, if you get to a point where you're really not okay, you'll call someone," I demand. "Don't undo all the work you've done and all the progress you've made because you think it's what you deserve."
He eyes me silently for a long moment before he nods. "I promise, little bird. If that day comes, I'll call for reinforcements."
"Thank you." I lean forward, kissing his cheek.
"Why are you worried about your dad?"
"He's overprotective on a good day. And we aren't having many of those lately. I don't want to hide you, but…"
"You're afraid to tell him about us," he says.
"Yeah." I swallow hard. "I may end up in Texas with Bella if I do."
"Because it's me." The look in his eye… God, I hate that look. It's like he thinks he isn't good enough for me. And that's the other reason I know he isn't okay. He still doesn't see himself clearly. He still has too many other voices ringing in his ears, drowning out his own.
"Because he doesn't know you," I say firmly. "You could be a freaking preacher, and he'd feel the same way. He doesn't trust anyone with us, especially not right now."
"I get that, baby. In his shoes, I'd feel the same damn way."
"I will tell him. I'd just like to wait until things are more settled if that's okay with you."
He cups my cheek, holding my gaze. "I'm not going anywhere, little bird. I'm not going to break this thing off because your dad doesn't know about me. If that's what you're worried about, put it out of your mind."
"My mom knows," I whisper.
Surprise flares in his eyes.
"Um, we talked about you this morning."
"You told your mom?"
"My stepmom, not Marion. I don't really talk to her much."
"I knew who you meant, Isla." He smirks at me. "I told my mom about you too."
My eyes widen. "Really?"
"Mmhmm. She wants to meet you."
"Really?"
"You thought she wouldn't?"
"I don't know!" I cry. "I've never met anyone's mom before."
"Me either."
"Guess we're tackling a lot of firsts together then, aren't we?"
"I guess so," I murmur, a little dazed at the thought.
"You going to spend the night with me and tackle another one?"
My face falls, disappointment coursing through me. "I can't. I promised my mom that I'd stay at home tonight. My dad is being a crazy person."
"No, baby." Brantley shakes his head, his voice soft. "He's being your dad. Let him."
I swallow hard and nod.