Once they arrived at their destination and were shown to their seats, they ordered their food. While they waited, they engaged in idle chit-chat. When they were served, they began eating in companionable silence. Not since he’d seen Brittany in the nightclub had Trey been in a woman’s company to simply eat and relax without either him or her expecting to end up in bed. Though he might have Brittany in his bed by the end of the night, getting her there wasn’t his primary goal.
When they finished eating, Trey ordered a beer. Tasting it and licking the froth from his lips, he searched for a way to jumpstart the conversation. Brittany sipped her coke, gazing at him through the fringes of her lashes, a look from her that always sped up his heart. He got up from his side of the booth and slid next to her.
She clutched her glass and drew in a deep breath. “Have I forced you into a corner? You always resist making love to me.”
“I did make love to you,” he pointed out, swallowing more of his beer.
Tracing the rim of her glass, she stared into it. “After I seduced you.”
“As I recall, I seduced you tonight.”
Protest gathered in her eyes but before she voiced them, he bent his head closer to her ear.
“When I was licking your clit, I was seducing you and preparing you for what I intend later.”
Desire brightened her eyes but Trey recognized the other emotions too. The ones haunting her.
“Can we leave now?”
He laughed at her breathlessness. He brushed her lips again. “I thought maybe we could go to a nightclub for a minute. Dance. You do still like to dance, huh, Brit?” he asked, seeing how much the idea appealed to her.
“I think so. I haven’t danced in years.”
Four years, he’d guess. “We need to remedy that as soon as possible then, love.”
Her lips parted for another kiss and he complied, brushing his mouth over hers, the unbearable desire he carried around for her nearly overwhelming him then. She laughed when he wrapped his arms around her, not caring they were in public.
A throat cleared and Trey tore his mouth from Brittany’s. Karl stood at the table, his arm wrapped around a very pretty young woman.
“Brittany. Trey. What a pleasure running into you here.”
Trey stared at Karl, unsavory thoughts cramming his head, trying to take his cousin’s full measure. Karl had had the perfect opportunity to rape Brittany. He’d known Trey and Bryson would be out. He had sent them away.
Earlier, when Trey remarked no one he knew would ever hurt her, Brittany’s look said otherwise. Based on that, Trey suspected the man who assaulted Brittany was someone he and Bryson knew. If Karl had threatened her and Trey and Bryson, she would remain silent out of fear alone.
“I thought we’d set our differences aside by the time I left the apartment this afternoon.” Karl smiled. “You’re staring at me as if I’ve committed some grave offense.”
“Have you?”
A confused frown wrinkled Karl’s brow and he swallowed. “Other than causing the fight between you and Bryson this afternoon, I don’t think I have.” He looked past Trey to where Brittany sat next to him. “Can you think of anything, Brit?”
The woman with Karl clasped Karl’s hand and smiled at Trey, the glittery gold number she wore hugging her curves.
Trey nodded to her.
She held out her hand. Her movements were jerky. “I’m Destiny,” she said as Trey took her offered hand and gave a quick shake. She wet her lips, her gaze traveling from Brittany to Trey and then finally to Karl.
“That’s Brittany,” Karl responded with a small smile. He nodded to Trey. “My cousin is her boyfriend. Unfortunately for us, Trey, man, you’re quite oversexed,” he said good-naturedly. “But the least you can do is not flirt with my girl and in front of yours, no less.”
“Were you always an asshole or did you take classes to specialize in being one?” Trey growled, noting how silent Brittany had fallen. He slid out of his seat, forcing Karl to take a step back.
Two men who’d been hovering in the background like gargoyles stepped forward, flanking Karl and Destiny. To intimidate me? Trey stiffened, narrowing his eyes in warning, his hands balling at his sides.
Karl held up his hand. “Archie, Woodrow, it’s fine.” He indicated each man as he spoke their names. “My cousin is as well versed with his training as a police officer as he is with dirty street fighting. It’s just a family misunderstanding.”
Trey stepped forward with a menacing glower. “I wasn’t flirting with your woman. I was thinking how much she resembled Brittany,” he said, low and cold.
Destiny’s smile faltered and she met Trey’s eyes with a gaze he couldn’t quite decipher while emotions were running so high. Karl narrowed his eyes at her and she turned toward him, smiling up at him sweetly.
“I think you mentioned that once, Karl.” She looked at Brittany, the dislike and distaste in her eyes stealing the message she’d been trying to convey. “You’re Bryson’s sister.”
“I am,” Brittany responded through tight lips, ugly undercurrents crackling in the space. She glanced up at Trey. “And Trey’s girlfriend.”
Nodding, Destiny sidled closer to Karl. Her beauty evaporated as if it had been a magician’s illusion from the beginning. The winds had been knocked from her sails at Brittany’s announcement, leaving her appearing defeated and sad.
“Destiny is a little put out with you, Britty.” Karl’s expression matched the regret in his tone. “She found out I’d intended to escort you to the banquet instead of her.”
“Then let me apologize for any misconceptions, Destiny.” If anything disturbed the woman, her unsettling serenity hid it well. “Bryson took it upon himself to ask Karl to take me out. I never had any intentions of accepting.”
Karl’s face crumpled. “You wound me. I thought we were friends.”
Her emotional mask not slipping, she smiled and shrugged. “Of course we’re friends.”
Trey’s pulse thumped at the fragile tone of her voice.
Destiny’s light-brown gaze assessed Brittany then Destiny swallowed, her nose reddening and her eyes watering.
Karl brushed his lips against Destiny’s.
“You should’ve told Bryson you had a girlfriend,” Trey pointed out. “Now there’s undo tension between our ladies. And yours seems quite upset.”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Karl returned, caressing Destiny’s cheek. “I’ll take care of her later. Reassure her there’s no other woman for me. Not even our little Brittany.”
The picture of warmth and friendship, Karl kept his tone gentle, his regard for both women tender. Guilt steamrolled Trey. His cousin wasn’t a monster. He might desire Brittany but his affection for her was too high, his moral code too strict for him to be capable of such violence. In his entire life, Trey couldn’t remember a time Karl lost his temper. He was always the cool-headed one, the voice of reason and the man to calm everyone down.
“What’s going through your head?” his cousin asked now.
Trey sighed and slid back next to Brittany. He put his arm around her and pulled her taut body to his. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Nothing.”
Before anyone could say anything else, a man and a woman tapped Karl on the shoulder. He smiled at the older couple.
“May I help you?” he asked.
“I wanted to congratulate you, Reverend Wilson,” the man said. “I read the feature article about you in the newspaper today.”
Karl smiled. “Thank you.”
“Yes,” the woman gushed. “We had a chance to hear you sermonize once and I must say we thought you brilliant. But when we read about all your other accomplishments, we felt as if we knew you. So imagine our surprise when we saw you standing in this restaurant!”
“We stopped in for dessert. This place has the best peach cobbler and homemade ice cream in the city,” Karl explained in those same humble tones. “And we’d be honored if you joined us.” He nodded to the man named Woodrow before glancing at Trey. “You and Brittany are joining us as well.”
“I’m not hungry,” Brittany said politely. “Dinner filled me up and I couldn’t eat another bite.”
“Yeah, man.” Her refusal relieved Trey. If she’d wanted to stay, he would’ve agreed, although he wouldn’t have been pleased. “We are going to stop at 70122 for a dance or two before heading home.”
“I know the owner. Let me call ahead and make sure you’re seated at a very good table. A bucket of champagne will be waiting for you two. Let me do that to make up for our earlier argument.”
After a beat, Trey nodded. “I appreciate that.” He really couldn’t stay angry with Karl. Despite everything, Trey’s cousin meant well. Most of the time.
✽ ✽ ✽
The owner’s table offered a very good view of the dance floor and the bar, and perhaps because it was a weeknight, the club was crowded but not packed. Trey and Brittany took to the dance floor right after they’d been shown to their table and remained there for nearly an hour. Trey’s goal had been to show Brittany a good time and take her on a date, but he was having a damn good time himself.
When they returned to the table, he ordered a second beer for himself and a glass of wine for Brittany, since neither of them cared for champagne.
The softer music and her sweet shyness affected him to no end. “After we finish our drinks, will you be ready to roll, baby girl?”
“Yes.”
He caressed the contours of her face, tracing the outline of her small nose, the delicate curves of her chin and cheeks. She leaned into his hand.
He rubbed his thumb over her lips. “Are you tired?”
Her skin heated beneath his touch, the pulse point at the base of her throat beginning to pound. She licked her lips, myriad emotions flickering through her eyes.
“Ready for bed?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “But not for sleep.”
At her words, Trey’s cock stiffened. “You want me?” he asked, close to her ear, able to detect the faint scent of her apple-scented shampoo still lingering in her hair from when she’d washed it earlier. He licked the delicate shell of her ear.
Sucking in a breath, she clutched his arm but leaned away.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he said, happy her fingers still gripped his biceps. “When we make love, we’re just expressing our feelings for each other in a physical way.”
“What do you feel for me?”
He took her small, slender hand. His hand dwarfed hers. He dwarfed her and he wondered if the man who’d attacked her was short or tall, thin or heavy.
Motherfucker. If he wasn’t careful, her attack would consume his life as much as it consumed hers. Redirecting his thoughts, he kissed the back of her hand. “I can’t promise you anything other than now. Not that I’m saying it won’t develop into something deeper later.”
“If you opened yourself to that possibility.”
“And if I did?” he managed, annoyed and out of sorts that she was pressing this issue when so much stood between them. “Would the shame and guilt you feel about making love go away? Or would I have to face the possibility you’d fall apart every time I touched you?” A deep rage seethed in him at the vulnerability he hadn’t experienced since his father’s death. He couldn’t stop his overflowing frustration. “You’ve gone into screaming hysterics. You’ve cut off your goddamn hair.”
Her emotional upheaval bordered on post-traumatic stress.
She snatched her hand away from his and shoved his shoulder but he didn’t budge.
“I’m not ashamed of making love to you,” she snapped. “I’m ashamed of wanting to make love to you. Of the desire I feel.” She glared at him. “I’ve wanted you. I wanted you to be m-my first lover. My only lover. But the choice was taken out of my hands. No matter how hard I fought he still took what he wanted.”
Her voice held anger and disgust, pain and embarrassment.
“He hurt you. Your assault had nothing to do with passion and desire. It had to do with control.”
She stiffened. “There, I disagree.” She bit back a hysterical sound, half-sob, half-laugh. “I had an orgasm.”
Trey heaved in a deep breath, closing his eyes at warring emotions. He didn’t want to hear this and think about what she’d endured. And yet he wanted to know everything, to justify his actions when he got his hands on the man.
“You don’t have an orgasm if you aren’t aroused,” she spat.
“Listen to me—”
“What can you say? It happened. He raped me, forced me to shower, used his fingers on me, and…and…he…I…” She breathed in, sucking in her heartache and despair as if a black hole had caught all her feelings and swept them away. “Afterward he raped me again.”
Trey rubbed his temple, his fury close to erupting. He searched for words to comfort her but failed to come up with any. Didn’t he do this for a living?
No, not this. He responded to calls, took reports and called in the rape unit. They took over from there.
“You were young and healthy,” Trey began. “Your response had nothing to do with desire. Or passion. Or lovemaking. It was still about control. His power over you. Humiliating you.”
Clenching her jaw, she stared into the dimness of the club where the crowd seemed to thin a little more every minute.
“Brittany. Baby girl. You don’t ever have to tell me his name. Just tell me if I knew him.”
She flinched and he thought she might begin to cry. Instead she drew herself up, her expression closing. She was shutting down. Pulling away.
She must’ve realized it as well because she surprised him and nodded. “Yes you knew him.”
“Did Bryson?”
“Yes.”
Although his brain had dismissed Karl as a suspect, his gut still wasn’t so sure. So he’d ask her and study her body language, watch if her expression changed any. “Did Karl?”
“Yes.” No pause. No change of expression. No display of emotion.
“Was he a friend of ours? Or one of your friends?”
“Does it matter?”
“No it doesn’t.” Trey finished his beer. “Your coach. Jamie’s sister. She took you to the hospital, didn’t she?”
“Are you interrogating me? I’ve already told you all I’m willing to tell you.”
“Is that so? You’ve shared almost everything else with me except the name of the bastard who assaulted you. Perhaps I can understand that. This, in comparison, is nothing to tell me.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, her chest rising and falling in agitation. “Yes, it was Stephanie, my coach. Anything else, Sergeant Wilson?”
“What did you tell them?”
Tension radiated from her like steam from boiling water. “I didn’t tell either of them anything. I merely said what I told you.”
“You had a botched deflowering?”
“Yes,” she hissed, defiant. “Now let it go.”
“No.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Why are you protecting this motherfucker? Unless you still have contact with the fucker, he won’t get close enough to lay a finger on you if that’s what’s preventing you from telling me who he is.”
“And what of you and Bryson?”
He leaned toward her, his temper getting the best of him. “Tell me who it is and I’ll put your fears to rest.”
“Goddamn you,” she cried, tears filling her eyes and slipping down her cheeks. “I can’t tell you who it is! I won’t tell you. You weren’t the one who was terrified of being strangled. You aren’t the one who lives with the memory of having his hands wrapped around your throat—“
Trey wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe his angry growl or vicious curse. Or maybe her brain caught up with her words. She went still, the color leeching from her face. Scuttling away from him, she dropped her head into her hands.
“I thought he was going to kill me,” she sobbed.
He should’ve taken her in his arms. Hugged her. Kissed her. Comforted her. But he couldn’t, too furious to think about offering solace when he wanted blood.
“I think it is time for us to go,” he snarled, not recognizing his own voice or the unholy rage churning inside him.