Chapter 37
JETT
We go snorkeling later that day, or rather, Brooke and I do, jumping off from the yacht into the aquamarine water.
Cari hesitates, her gaze lingering nervously at the edge, so I don’t push her to join. I know her fear of the water. The day she almost drowned is a day I’ll never forget. Seeing her flailing and start to go under scared me to death.
I leave her sitting on the deck, with her legs dangling over the edge, watching us. But Brooke, with the boundless wonder only a child has, is fearless. It’s one of the things I admire most about her. I live for these moments—showing her something new, seeing the thrill in her eyes. Every time she grins back at me, I feel a satisfaction that no business success has ever quite given me.
For the first time, it feels like we’re a family—a unit. And I don’t know if I’m ready to let it go. Waking up every morning and knowing we have the whole day together has made time slip through my fingers faster than I imagined.
After snorkeling, Cari’s content to sit back, snapping photos of Brooke and me as we swim. Her smile is soft and steady, and her laughter blends with Brooke’s as we play. We have a quiet picnic on the yacht as it glides through Bermuda’s crystal clear waters, cutting through shades of blue that shift from turquoise to sapphire. The coastline is dotted with pastel-colored homes, there is a vibrant coral reef beneath us, and tall palm trees sway in the distance against the endless sky. It's the perfect picture, almost surreal.
When Brooke finally falls asleep after lunch, it’s just me and Cari. For once, no barriers.
I glance at her as we sink into the sofa, the faint hum of the yacht beneath us. There’s a hesitation in her eyes now, a subtle distance that wasn’t there earlier. I have a feeling it’s about the call with Dex earlier.
“Look, I’m sorry about that call with Dex,” I say, testing the waters. I hate when anything hangs between us unspoken.
Cari shakes her head, brushing it off. “You don’t have to apologize. He’s entitled to his opinion. Whatever he thinks you’re up to … well, that’s none of my business.” Her voice is steady, but her eyes betray her.
? ? “Dex and I are close,” I say, reaching for her hand. “Zach and I … not so much. I mean, as brothers we’ve always stuck together. We had to, after our mother died.” The words spill out before I realize it, slipping through a crack in my carefully built walls. It’s something I don’t talk about—not with anyone, except my brothers. But here it is, laid bare.
“I’m sorry that happened to you.” She looks at me with her big doleful eyes, but she doesn't press me to elaborate. She just stays there, her hand warm in mine, gently stroking it. ?
“My mother’s death … it’s not exactly public knowledge,” I murmur. “My father had it erased from the newspapers and silenced as much as he could.”
“People can do that?” she asks, innocently. She has no idea what people can do when their insane wealth drives them to make insane decisions.
“Yes.”
She lets out a gasp, looking horrified. No one outside of this family truly understands what it's like to be the son of a megalomaniacal billionaire. A nasty, narcissistic, selfish self-absorbed man. The type of man who has a secret family on another continent. The type of man who, after his wife kills herself unable to deal with the revelation of his adultery, moves his mistress and their secret children, to come and live in the same city as us.
The type of man who called a family meeting a few months after our mother died, and introduced us to these people.
None of us have ever seen the mother, but she's here.
At least Paul Knight did one thing right—he didn't force us to see her, and we never have. We didn't even cross paths with the boys until I turned twenty one.
My friends got yachts and cars, and ridiculous parties thrown for that milestone birthday, but for me, and my brothers, it marked the day we all started to have regular get togethers with our father's secret sons.
Dex was nineteen, and Zach only seventeen. The others? They were still in their teens. Enzo, the baby, had just turned fourteen, we were told.
It started from there, the monthly meetings, the Knight family dinners as they're now referred to.
Our father knew what he was doing. He was preparing us to start working in the family business.
“My mother killed herself. Drove off a bridge after finding out he’d had a secret family all those years. He’d hidden it from her for over a decade.”
“Oh, Jett.” Cari clasps a hand to her chest, her eyes filled with shock.
A familiar ache dulls my body. Talking about it now, even after all these years, stirs something raw inside me. I glance away, focusing on the gentle roll of the ocean. “It was a long time ago.” My words catch slightly and I take a moment to compose myself. “I was thirteen when it happened.”
“I’m so sorry.” She rests her hand against the side of my face. The memory hits me, a sharp twist that hasn’t dulled with time. The first moment I heard the news—a crack formed in my world I’d always thought unbreakable. Even now, it’s a wound that hasn’t fully healed.
“Now I’ll worry about you,” she whispers.
I try to smile, to shrug it off. “I’m all grown up now. There’s no need to waste your time worrying about me.”
“A hurt like that never goes away.” Her hand is still in mine, her touch grounding me. Telling her feels as if a load has been lifted from my chest. I pause, reliving the moment I heard of her death all those decades ago. The knife to my heart is as raw now as it was then.
CARI
Jett shared his deepest, darkest secret with me—a part of himself he’s never shown anyone. I know, without him saying it, that I’m the only one he’s ever trusted with this. I vow that I will never betray his confidence.
He opened up about his mother, and from what I’ve overheard in whispers between the other assistants, it’s a topic the Knight brothers never broach.
Him revealing that she died by suicide … it breaks my heart in a way I didn’t expect. It’s no wonder he was so empathetic when I lost my mom. I had no idea of the depth of pain this man has endured, no sense of the scars hidden beneath that polished, arrogant exterior. It’s a tragedy that feels unimaginable, and now that I know, I can’t shake it. The pain of his loss presses into me, leaving me with an ache I feel for him and the boy he once was. Just as I go to hug him, Brooke stirs, then stretches, sticking her skinny little arms up. Her eyelids fly wide open.
I stop, and Jett stands up. “What now, sprout? What do you want to do next?”
She wants to go back in the water. So we do, and with my life vest on, I don’t fear it as much.
We return home and go through the ritual of getting Brooke ready for bed. When she’s snuggled up and her eyes start to droop, I know she’ll be out like a light in no time.
I reach for Jett’s hand and tug him towards his bedroom. Still in my bikini, wearing my sheer cover-up, and smelling of sea and salt, we stand in the middle of his room. I cradle his face, my fingers softly tracing his jawline. His skin is warm beneath my touch, and I lean in, kissing him deeply, trying to convey every ounce of the emotion welling up inside me. The world around us fades as our lips meet—slow and tender at first, then with growing urgency. The kiss becomes a promise of understanding and comfort, of everything I wish I could give him.
“Thank you for sharing about your mom. I know it can’t have been easy.”
He opens the clip that holds my hair up, letting it tumble around my shoulders. “Wasn’t so hard, telling you.” He presses a kiss on my lips.
“I know you worry about me,” I whisper against his mouth, “You’ve been checking in on how I’m doing since my mom passed. But did anyone ever ask how you were doing?”
His gaze holds mine, as if stunned by the question. Then, as if all words have failed him, he answers with another kiss, one that ignites a slow fire in the pit of my stomach. My heart pounds as his arms tighten around me, pulling me closer, our breaths mingling in a heated silence.
I slipped out of his bed early this morning, feeling annoyed by Dex’s intrusion. All day, I’ve kept my distance, staying aloof when normally we’d sneak a few stolen moments behind Brooke’s back.
He noticed. I saw the flicker in his eyes earlier, a hint of frustration, maybe even longing. Now, here we are, just the two of us again, and I feel him hard and insistent against me, pressing through the delicate fabric of my bikini bottoms. I’m desperate for him, craving him in a way that blurs everything else.
His hand moves between my legs, his fingers push the wisp of fabric and slide it to one side. A shiver of anticipation races through me as his fingers trace my warmth, pressing, circling, each touch sending a cascade of need spiraling through me. A thought crashes into my mind unbidden. I want to take him again, ease onto him, feel every inch of him—
“Sit on me,” he commands, his voice low, his fingers sliding and slipping over my folds, fueling my need. He takes my hand and leads me to the bed. I want to—dear God, I want nothing more than to give in to this wild urge, to let go completely and lose myself in him.
But I have other plans. I peel down his swim shorts and note that he doesn't waste time stripping off his T-shirt. I'm still wearing my bikini, but he's completely naked now with his cock upright and ready. I gape at his member, my insides turning to heat because I know what happens next.
“Looks like I need to take care of something for you.” Every part of me wants to take care of him, to hold him. I stroke his wet tip, my heart filling with love for this man who has suffered so much.
My fingers skate gently over his chest before sliding down, down, down. I push him gently onto the bed, and start to explore his body, like he's been exploring mine.
He hitches a breath. “Sit ... on ... me,” he says, but its softer now, not commanding, like he's enjoying seeing where this is going.
“No. I want this.”
He leans back a little, on his elbows, his cock beautifully sprung up for me to feast on. I kneel in front of him, moving his knees wider, unable to take my eyes off his beautiful shaft. To think I was once scared of him being inside me, and now ... now I dream of us doing unspeakable things in bed together.
“You don't have to ... do this ...” He tries again, sitting up, but I can sense the urgency in his voice, like he needs the release immediately.
“I want to.” My voice is almost a low growl because I'm already dripping wet with desire for him, my arousal starting to trickle down my inner thigh. I could so easily sit on him and ride him wildly so we would come together, but he needs taking care of first.
I slide my hands along his inner thighs, hear the way his breath hitches. Keeping my touch featherlight, I trace along his heated skin, letting my hands run gently over the hard ridges of his abs. His cock is in the way, but I ignore it for now, as impossible as it is. I touch and trace, eliciting growls from him that only give me more confidence.
I smell salt and the sea on him. It's a scent that will always remind me of passionate nights with Jett. Dipping my head, I rain tiny kisses under his navel, moving down slowly.
“Fuck,” he groans.
“In time, yes. We will.” I look up at him with a smile. Seeing the torture in his expression fills me with power, but I lower my head again and lick his skin along his lower belly.
He rests a hand on my head and I suck his skin, wanting more, wanting to leave hickeys on him, branding him like he does to me with his kisses.
“Cari ...” he groans. I continue sucking, dragging this moment out longer than is comfortable. It's painful because the dull ache between my legs needs him inside me. But teasing him the way I am, so close to his cock and not doing anything to it, must be beyond unbearable.
I move lower still, making him groan again. Each time he groans, I know I'm doing something right. I did this for Rory a few times, but I didn't really like it. He was so rough with me. He'd force my mouth so that I'd gag.
Jett doesn't do that. I might not be up to the standards he's used to, but he's letting me do as I please.
And I'm enjoying this. Clasping my fingers around his cock, I wipe his wet crest with my thumb. He jerks like he's been pinched, giving me the green light to continue.
I stroke him gently, then bend down and lick the tip of his cock, glancing at him to see his reaction. But he's tilted his head back, and his eyes are closed.
He loves this.
JETT
If Cari continues like this, I'll come all over her. I could come right now, but I'll force myself to hold on, because I want to bury myself and empty inside her.
But she starts to suck, her gorgeous lips swallowing my cock slowly. I look at her, needing to see her mouth around me.
She seems emboldened now. One of her hands teases my balls.
She's wearing my favorite bikini, but I need to see her naked. “Take your clothes off,” I beg.
She looks annoyed, like I'm breaking her rhythm, but she does it anyway. Quickly taking off the sheer cover-up, she strips off completely and my cock hardens even more. She sees it. Not losing another moment, she kneels back down and pulls and strokes my cock. She teases me relentlessly, her thumb sliding over my wet tip, spreading my cum all over me.
She makes eye contact with me, her lips wet with saliva as she swirls her tongue all over my cock. I jerk, and grind my teeth down, trying to keep it together.
“I'm going to suck you off. Would you like that?” she asks, going full on vixen-mode and making my resolve crumble.
Hell, yes.
The sunbursts in her eyes sparkle as she stares at me. “I didn't hear you.” She's turned into the sexy minx again. Bold and confident.
“Very much,” I manage to say, then watch as she swallows me inch by delicious inch.
I let out another groan. Seeing her like this—completely naked and on her knees between my legs, talking dirty to me, with my cock in her mouth—is a dream come true.
I lose my mind as she plays with my balls while sucking me hard, bobbing her head as she glides her lips over me before slathering me with her tongue.
It's the most divine feeling in the world.
Fighting for control, I look at the ceiling. I’m desperate for release, and just when I think this can't get any better, she takes all of me in until I feel the back of her throat.
Sweet, sweet ecstasy. She licks the length of my shaft, then closes her lips around the head. I fist my hand in her hair, trying to not come apart, but when she sucks my tip, long and hard, I'm gone. I grit my teeth together, trying not to come inside her mouth. I want her tight, warm pussy for that. But she alternates, swallowing me whole again, doing it slowly, then licking me. It's so exquisite, the torture she's putting me through.
“Cari, what the fuck are you doing to me?”
She stops, then looks up at me, her eyes shimmering under the light of the lamp. This image of her like this, is one I'll never forget—Cari with my cock in her mouth, her lips red and swollen, and those gorgeous, peaked breasts. If I could only reach out and suck them.
“I'm taking care of you,” she says, innocently, before her tongue darts out and glides over my length again.
I release her hair and lie back on the bed, fighting to keep it all together, but she takes me into her mouth and sucks me harder still.
Just when I think I need to pull out, I lose control, grunting out my release. I'm so far gone, that it takes a few seconds before I jolt upright and see what I’ve done. I didn’t pull out in time and I came. And Cari took it.
She swallowed every drop.
I reach for her. “I didn't mean to come in—”
She lifts up, her fingers brushing the side of my face, tracing the line of my jaw. “Did I take good care of you?”
This woman undoes me. “The best, my little shortcake.” She presses a kiss to my lips and I pull back, just enough to meet her gaze, my hand on her waist. I have so many words. So much I want to say, but she nods, smiling at me, as if understanding that this moment needs only silence.
We scoot back on the bed, and she presses against me, snuggling in the crook of my arm as we lie entangled in one another.