Secrets That We Keep

By Linda Kage

Gracen Lowe has a new life theory:
What you don’t know can’t hurt you.

Which is exactly why he decides not to tell his twin sister, Bella, that he’s accidentally falling for the woman she hates most, the very woman who allegedly cheated with Bella’s last boyfriend and broke them apart.

Bella might be his best friend and ultimate confidante, but she’d legit cut off his favorite body part if she knew which woman he’d been craving. So even if his theory’s totally whack, staying quiet will definitely keep him safer.

Except he feels so guilty about it all.

Meanwhile, Bella’s heating up the sheets with one of Gracen’s best friends, and she can’t seem to reveal that little detail to her brother either, due to—you know—reasons.

When the truth is exposed, all bets are off. Shattered secrets will either set everyone free or wreck their relationships forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Linda Kage
• Release date: Jan 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005701420

Linda Kage

The youngest of eight children, Linda Kage grew up on a dairy farm in the Midwest. She now lives in Kansas with her husband, daughter, and nine cuckoo clocks. Linda is a member of Romance Writers of America and its local chapter, Midwest Romance Writers.

Book preview

Secrets That We Keep

Secrets That We Keep

Linda Kage

Linda Kage

Contents

Secrets That We Keep

1. Bella

2. Gracen

3. Yellow

4. Fox

5. Yellow

6. Fox

7. Gracen

8. Bella

9. Gracen

10. Fox

11. Bella

12. Yellow

13. Gracen

14. Fox

15. Yellow

16. Bella

17. Yellow

18. Bella

19. Fox

20. Gracen

21. Yellow

22. Bella

23. Fox

24. Gracen

Epilogue

Beware of Maverick

How Cress met Maverick

1. Cress

2. Cress

3. Cress

Dear Worthy

How Bentley and Beau Got Together

1. Beau

2. Bentley

3. Beau

4. Bentley

5. Beau

Insta-Family

And finally, one last peek into the life of Lucy Olivia

Chapter 1

Forbidden Universe Books

About the Author

Secrets That We Keep

Copyright © 2021 by Linda Kage

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses or establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

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All rights reserved. No part of this book—except in the case of brief quotations in reviews—may be used, reproduced, or translated without written permission of the author.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

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Publishing History

Linda Kage, October 2020

Smashwords edition

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Credits

Cover & Formatting: Kage Covers

Editor: Summer @ Red Pen Revolution

Proofreader: Shelley @ 2 Book Lovers Reviews

Proofreader: Judy @ Judy’s Proofreading

Vellum flower icon Created with Vellum

For Lydia, who’s keeping track.

I know I’m supposed to be the role model in this relationship, but more often than not, I find myself wishing I was more like you. You’re such a sweet and compassionate soul. So organized, smart, and responsible. You keep the whole household in line with your charts and timelines. You’re the type to fix someone else’s crown without telling the world it was ever crooked, and you get my quirky sense of humor like no one else. (Thank you for laughing at my jokes, by the way.) If I were ever to reach my full potential, I could only hope I was just like you. With love, your mama.

Secrets That We Keep

Chapter One

Bella

Drinking had never been a good idea for me. I tended to forget everything I did and make stupid, reckless decisions whenever I partook, like getting online and buying a dozen pairs of new shoes or ordering thirty-eight packs of chewing gum at once.

True story.

So I had pretty much cut all the alcohol out of my life, except for today, when I just couldn’t seem to help it.

I’d started with the girls earlier to help Haven get over a fresh breakup. And after Gracen had dropped me off at home—alone—I’d stumbled my way to my own liquor stash and poured myself another.

Because my poor baby cousin’s situation had felt too freakily similar to mine.

You see, Haven had walked in on her boyfriend cheating.

And so had I.

Kind of.

I mean, it had been the next morning and no one had been in the middle of the actual deed as they’d been in her case. But they’d still been naked and cozied up in bed together, passed out after a night of rowdy unfaithfulness. And I’d been officially engaged to my cheating loser. Haven had not. So it felt just as traumatic, if you wanted my honest opinion.

Yet not one family member had mentioned that today to Haven when they’d been trying to console her.

No, hey, Bella totally understands; ask her how she overcame it.

No, yo, Bella just went through this, so you can make it through too.

No nothing.

Or maybe they all knew I really hadn’t made it through yet. I was still stuck somewhere in the muck of unrelenting misery.

Though honestly, it felt more like they’d all just plain forgotten I was also nursing a broken heart. Sure, it’d almost been six months and I was totally over that cheating dickhead asshat. But the deceit and betrayal part still felt like yesterday to me, especially after watching Haven cry today.

We had tried to talk her into rebounding with another guy. Actually, I had been more on team vibrator and anti-man, but whatevs. I’d eventually sided with the others and encouraged her to take a crack at getting under one man in order to get over another. I mean, it couldn’t hurt her any more than she was already hurting to taste-test her hot new male roommate, because Wick was super-hot. And super male. And since she now lived with him, super easy access.

It was really too bad I didn’t have my own Wick to help me get over Ethan—er, not Ethan himself, but what I thought I’d had with Ethan. Because, fuck Ethan, you know? That douche had been dead to me since the moment I’d found the skank in bed with him while our engagement picture sat on the nightstand right next to her passed-out, two-timing face. But I couldn’t seem to get over this new inability to trust anything, not even myself. My confidence had taken a serious nosedive since then. And I hadn’t been able to even crave sex with another person. Which made me feel broken.

I didn’t want to be broken.

Broken made me irritable. And who wanted to be irritable?

I made a sour face at the dildo in my hand and then chucked it into my still-open nightstand drawer next to me before shoving it closed. Cold plastic just didn’t sound appealing right now. It was all that damn Teagan’s fault, too. Pregnancy must spike the hormones to unbelievable heights because T had made sex-with-a-live-person sound pretty damn appealing a couple of hours ago in Haven’s kitchen, which I hadn’t thought was possible for me anymore.

But now…

Now, I couldn’t get the idea of hot, urgent hands, a wet, seeking mouth, and firm, sculpted abs out of my brain. Except pure panic clutched my throat every time I tried to picture a face connected to any kind of pleasure.

Argh! I hated being this messed up.

Maybe I should try what Haven was currently trying and just force myself back onto that horse. Yeah, then I’d realize sex did not equate getting your trust and pride stomped on and shattered. It didn’t mean I was a broken, naive idiot. And everything would be okay again.

Yeah, I could do this. I’d just have to find a willing guy and—

Oh, right.

Guys.

Boo, hiss, never mind.

I didn’t want anything to do with a bearer of penises right now. Except maybe one. But he was my brother, so he totally didn’t count. Because brothers didn’t even have real, working boy parts. Or at least, they shouldn’t. That would just be weird. And I was going to stop thinking about weird and odd drunk things now.

Knowing I could always depend on my Gracen, I turned to my nightstand and reached for my phone on top, accidentally knocking over the glass of bourbon and Coke I had sitting next to it.

Shit.

Wow, how much had I had to drink? My vision was royally messed up. Trying to blink the foggy world from my eyes, I crawled to the edge of the bed and draped myself over the side, trying to reach for the spilled glass. It hadn’t broken, thank goodness, but a puddle of alcohol and melting ice was staining my carpet.

Ah, fuck it. My fingers couldn’t reach. I’d just deal with cleaning shit up tomorrow.

Returning my attention to my phone, I gave the screen a goofy grin to wake it up, only to snort at the messaging app I still had open, revealing a group text with the girls.

HAVEN: Then what am I supposed to do?

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BENTLEY: Whenever he comes back from shopping, just try again. And if you get so close that he tries to escape…

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LUCY: Don’t let him.

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BELLA: Don’t let him.

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TEAGAN: Girl, don’t you dare let him!

Poor Haven had been getting cold feet about seducing her roommate, but we’d encouraged her to try again, anyway.

If all was right in the world, Haven and Wick were currently having a hell of a good time at their place.

Which made misery rumble through my stomach. I wanted to have a good time, too. But a totally different kind. Ergo, I needed my Gracen. Bad.

Flicking my way out of the text messages, I went into my address book to call him. As soon as I saw the Gs, I pushed on his name. At least, I think it was his name.

Close enough.

Hello? he answered a few seconds later.

Huh, he sounded funny. Or maybe that was just my drunk ears hearing funny things. Whatever. As soon as he was here, curled up on the couch with me, stuffing me full of hot chocolate and popcorn while we watched reruns of our favorite show together, he could sound as funny as he wanted to.

So I said, Can you come over? Right now? I really need you tonight.

And I hung up the phone before he could answer.

That was all I ever needed to say when talking to my twin. He always showed up, just as I knew he would tonight.

Because he got me. We were like—well, imagine me crossing my fingers right now. Yes, we were like that together. People called our close sibling bond weird and unnatural. But we didn’t care. We were each other’s best friend, and we were content with that.

Twenty minutes later, my doorbell rang.

About damn time, I grumbled, frowning over the fact that he’d rung the bell. Why in God’s name was Gracen ringing the doorbell? He typically just walked right in whenever he dropped by. Even if the place was locked, he had a freaking key.

Why are you ringing the—Oh! I blinked when I saw who was standing on the other side of the entrance.

Definitely not my twin brother.

My shoulders slumped. I shot the uninvited guest a scowl. "What’re you doing here?"

Uh… His eyebrows lifted in surprise. You called me.

No. I shook my head. I didn’t.

Yes, he countered. You did. Stepping past me into the front room without waiting for me to even let him in, he glanced around as if looking for more people, since there were always other people around whenever he came over.

But tonight, there was just me.

And Jim Beam.

Plus, now him.

Strange.

Turning back, he added, "You asked me to come over, saying you really needed me."

No. My brow knit with confusion. I kept shaking my head. And was it just me, or did it seem like I was shaking my head a lot here? "I called Gracen. I said that to Gracen."

Catching my face between his hands to get me to stop with the whole back-and-forth head action I had going on, he looked me straight in the eye and answered, "You called me."

Narrowing my eyes, I slapped his hand away and whined, "But I don’t want you."

He was not my sweet, reliable, goofball twin brother.

Wow. He tipped his chin just enough to shade his eyes under the bill of his hat. It was a look he gave people whenever he thought they’d said something incredibly stupid. Thank God I have a healthy self-esteem. That might’ve actually stung.

I thought I was talking to Gracen, I ground out. Your name is just one off from his on my phone. It was a stupid misdial.

Well, you got me anyway, baby doll. Rubbing his hands together, he started for the kitchen. Please tell me there’s some decent food around here. I’m starving.

What do you think you’re doing? I called after him, totally aghast. You can’t stay. You weren’t invited.

To which he called back from the kitchen, Was too.

Ugh. Throwing my head back, I glared up at the ceiling a moment, then slumped my shoulders and trailed my uninvited, pain-in-the-neck guest back to my kitchen.

Self-consciously wrapping the robe I was wearing tighter around my stained T-shirt and sweatpants, because I totally wasn’t dressed to receive visitors who were not Gracen, I plopped heavily into a chair and crossed my legs so I could madly swing one bare foot back and forth to display my annoyance.

Completely ignoring me, the turd just kept snooping through my fridge. So I sighed—loudly—and irritably watched the cloth of his jeans pull snug across his butt as he bent over, searching for God knows what.

I was about to complain about him just making himself at home in my kitchen, but I got a little distracted by the pleasant scenery, so I ended up simply blinking and wondering when he’d gotten such a nice ass.

Then, because I was drunk, I blurted, When did you get such a nice ass?

He straightened in surprise and spun around, shooting me a startled glance. But a second later, he sniffed indignantly. "What’re you talking about? I’ve always had a nice ass."

Whatever. I rolled my eyes.

His butt definitely hadn’t been that appealing when he was little. That I could attest to. When we’d been kids, he and Gracen, along with a couple of the other boys, would run around bare-ass naked in our backyard and have water fights. We girls—voyeurs that we were—would totally spy on them through the windows and giggle behind our hands. It had been agreed upon by all, save for his sister, that Beau had the cutest butt in those days.

Turning back to my fridge, my guest ignored me and shut the door, obviously finding nothing of interest there. He opened the freezer next.

I nearly whined with disappointment because his butt looked way better when he was bending over. Not that it was awful when he was standing upright, but his jeans had become too loose to properly see the awesome curvature he’d had before.

You know, those frozen push-pop things you buy are seriously the best, he was saying from the depths of chilly air. My favorite flavor’s peach.

Is it? Hmm. Well, I’m out, I was evilly pleased to report. Served him right for barging in without an invitation and not bending over in front of me anymore.

"But are you? Really?" Grinning broadly, he backed from the freezer so he could turn and triumphantly hold up a peach push pop.

My mouth fell open. Where the hell did you find that?

Under a bag of frozen peas. He winked. Right where I stashed it the last time I was here.

Last time… Scowling, I shook my head. But it’s probably been a year since you were last here.

I know. Unwrapping his treat, he wiggled his eyebrows mischievously. Shows how much I know you don’t eat your vegetables.

I mean-mugged him and mumbled, It’s probably freezer burned by now. At least, I hoped it was. That was what he should get for hiding one of my favorite treats from me so he could hog it to himself.

But as soon as he stuck one end in his mouth, he closed his eyes and moaned in delight. Mmm. Nope, no freezer burn. It’s absolutely perfect. Mm-hmm.

You’re such a turd, I groused.

Really? Am I? Then I guess that means I should do this next. He proceeded to slowly slide his tongue up the popsicle and back down again to rub his victory in my face. I would’ve called him another nasty name, except I got distracted, focusing a little too intently on the path of his tongue.

When my drunk brain went there, wondering what else he could do with a tongue like that, a flutter of awareness tickled me in the most startling places.

I jumped, not expecting that kind of reaction, especially since it’d been caused by him of all people.

Oblivious to my embarrassing response, he smirked and continued to suck on my push pop as he grabbed a chair across the table from me with his free hand, spun it around, and sat on it backwards so he could rest his forearms on the backrest as he ate.

Settling deep brown eyes on me, he sighed. Alright now, spill it. What was your distress call about?

I lifted my chin loftily. I have no idea what you’re referring to.

He rolled his eyes. Oh, come on. Lifting his voice to a ridiculous falsetto, which in no way resembled my actual voice, he mimicked, Can you come over? Like, right now. I really need you tonight.

"That is so not how I said it, I ground out. And besides, that call wasn’t meant for you."

Yes, I was always fully aware of that. But… He shrugged. Here I am. So you might as well talk.

He licked the push pop again. My gaze followed the slow, languid path of his tongue, unable to look away until he popped the whole thing back into his mouth and broke the spell he had me under.

Dude, what was wrong with me tonight?

Mentally slapping myself away from lusty thoughts, I blinked my expression into a scowl. "If you knew I’d called the wrong person all along, then why the hell did you come over?"

He shrugged again. Don’t know. Bored, I guess. And antsy. Anyway… His brown eyes probed mine. Why can’t I help you just as well as anyone else? We’re family; that’s what we do.

I snorted. Buddy, you and I are in no way related.

You know what I mean. His voice was dry and unimpressed. "We’re part of the group. The inner circle. Our parents are closer than blood. Face it. We’s family, baby."

He was right, so I just rolled my eyes and remained stubbornly mute.

Finishing the push pop with a satisfied sigh, he chucked the empty container remains across the room toward my open trash can. When he made the shot perfectly, he turned back to me, grinning proudly.

Until my glare caused him to falter.

Come on, Bells, he encouraged. You can talk to me. I’m a professional, remember? It’s my job to help people.

I snorted over his stretch of the term professional. But when he just kept gazing at me with that steady, unrelenting stare, I squirmed in my seat.

I’m bloating and have horrible cramps, I muttered, hoping that would scare him off-topic. In fact, I might just be experiencing the worst period in the history of all periods. And stop calling me Bells. That’s a—it’s a stupid nickname.

Except I kind of liked it.

Almost as much as I liked the way he said it.

It brought out the butterflies in my belly.

What was worse, the bastard only winked at my whiny demand. He just had to look super-hot when winking, too.

Nice try, he said, his voice all husky and deep and male. "But I have a sister. Lady problems don’t rattle me. And anyway, you have to admit; Bells is a hell of a lot better than what I used to call you."

I furrowed my eyebrows, unable to remember what he used to call me, so he rolled his hand. Isabella, he sang softly. Has a bad smell-a. Got diarrhea and pooped Nutella.

Seriously! I gasped. "You’re the evil cretin who came up with that awful chant?"

When I grabbed an orange that was sitting in a basket on the table between us and chucked it at him, he laughed and dodged, deflecting the fruit off his muscled forearm.

What? he asked with fake innocence. You were a mature twelve to my ten. I had to level the playing field between us somehow.

I was thirteen when you were ten, I argued because I needed something to argue.

Twelve and a half, he allowed.

I shook my head. You were such a little shit.

He nodded in satisfaction as if proud of the label. Yeah, I totally was. Good times.

And you haven’t improved all that much, either, I goaded, hiding my damn push pops from me. That’s unacceptable, you know.

Then, how about this? He batted his lashes playfully. I’ll buy you a whole new box of push pops if you tell me what’s wrong.

I pulled back in surprise, realizing he honestly wanted to know what was bothering me. Gracen wouldn’t have pried like this. He’d either already know, or he’d be patient and chill and wait for me to tell him when I was ready.

I wasn’t sure how to handle being pressed to open up. It made my chest feel hot and achy. Swallowing hard, I grew tempted but also extremely unsure.

"Well, that’s the problem, I finally admitted as I picked up another orange so I could toss it between my hands and combat the sudden anxiety rumbling through my stomach. Nothing’s actually wrong. I’m not even on my period. I was just feeling—I don’t know—grumpy and lonely and depressed, I guess, and reliving bad decisions." In men. I glanced across the table at him. Gracen would’ve understood.

Okay, he said, slapping his hands together and rubbing them in preparation. "I can work with this. What would Gracen be doing for you right now? We’ll see how I compare."

I wrinkled my brow. You really want to help me? Like he would?

Lifting one shoulder, he said, Sure. Why not? Like I said, I was bored and antsy myself. I need something to distract me.

Noticing that he did indeed seem a bit off, I sat up straighter. He was always scruffy, but his clothes seemed more wrinkled, facial hair thicker, and the lines under his eyes were deeper than I’d ever noticed them being before. Had he not been sleeping well?

Suddenly worried and ready to kick the ass of anyone who’d distressed him, I demanded, "What the hell? What’s gotten you into a funk?"

Ah, nothing. He waved a hand and mumbled out a dismissive sound as he slid his gaze toward the ceiling as if trying to downplay his problems. Angie just keeps calling, is all, asking me to come over.

Angie? I made a face. I thought you broke up with her months ago.

I did. He sighed and scrubbed his face. She’s mean and unstable and, honestly, I can’t stand her. I just want it all to be done. But then she’ll call sometimes, sounding all grumpy and lonely and depressed— He raised his eyebrows my way as he repeated my own words. And—I don’t know—I start feeling guilty.

When his phone began to ring from his pocket, I scowled. That her?

He shrugged, looking miserable. Probably.

I lifted my hand. Give it here.

He sent me an untrusting glance. So I shook my fingers insistently. Come on. I’m not getting any younger. Give me your phone.

With a sigh, he handed it over. Don’t be too mean. She’s hurting.

Oh, I’m not talking to her, I reassured him. I’d never been able to stand Angie, and hearing that she was still messing with his head made me even less of a fan. There was no way I would be able to say anything productive to her right now.

So I turned the phone off completely. There. Now, neither of us had to listen to the ringing.

His shoulders immediately deflated in relief. That made me feel marginally better. I’d helped him. Which filled me with the urge to help him even more.

Setting the phone on the table, I watched him with pity. "You really must’ve been desperate if I was the lesser of two evils."

Hey, don’t say that, he rumbled, picking at a knot of wood on the back of the chair he sat on. You’re not so bad. I’d partner with you over Gracen at beer pong any day of the week. And trust me, that’s a big deal. I take my beer pong seriously.

Except there was no drunken game to play tonight, so I shrugged. I guess. Then I sent him a forced smile. At least I can keep you from going to your ex’s and doing something you’ll regret.

He made a face. I wasn’t going to go.

Mm-hmm. I lifted my eyebrows. That why you look so tempted?

He shot me an indignant frown. "I wasn’t."

I lifted my hands. Okay, fine. Blowing out a breath, I glanced around the kitchen and plopped my palms onto the table as I turned back to my reluctant guest. What a pair we make, huh?

He shrugged morosely and picked at the knot with more intensity, as if he were really trying to pry a shard of wood free.

Suddenly deciding he could stay, I said, Gracen would’ve made me popcorn and hot chocolate.

Really? Immediately popping to his feet, he announced, I can do that.

"And then he would’ve cuddled on the couch with me so we could watch Gilmore Girls together for the rest of the night."

That caused him to pause. "Gilmore Girls? he asked slowly. When I nodded, he groaned. You gotta be kidding me. No. There’s no way. I refuse."

I batted my lashes. Gracen wouldn’t have refused.

He snorted. "Gray can’t possibly like Gilmore Girls. All they do is talk. Constantly. Blah, blah, blah, the whole time. It’s enough to give me a headache."

He crushes on Rory, I argued. Big-time.

Damn. I should’ve known. Your brother’s always been a sucker for the pretty, innocent faces. Another groan later, he rolled his head on his shoulders as if trying to force himself into Gilmore Girl mode. But it must not have taken because he suddenly asked, "What about Supernatural reruns? Or, hey, I know you like Stranger Things. Huh?" He lifted his eyebrows suggestively to make the alternatives sound more appealing than Gilmore Girls.

Except I was in a solid GG mood.

Never mind, I muttered, tossing down my orange and jerking to my feet. You don’t get it, so I’ll just take care of myself. You probably suck at cuddling, anyway.

And I left the kitchen.

"Hey now. Darting after me, he tripped his way into the hall to catch up. Then he nearly tackled me in his haste to grasp my elbow, jerk me around, and heave me into his arms. I’ve been told I have superb cuddling skills. See."

By who? I asked, my voice muffled against his rock-hard chest as he attempted to suffocate me with the force of his arm muscles alone. Your crazy, psycho ex? Cut it out. I shoved at his elbow. I can’t breathe. This is the worst hug ever.

The turd didn’t let me go, though. He merely repositioned us until I could turn my face enough to the side to suck in huge gulps of air.

Just relax, will you? You’re like hugging a cactus.

I poked him in the ribs with my finger. Not helping.

He chuckled, and the sound reverberated through me, causing things to shudder and stir to life inside me. I went completely still, wondering why I kept having this intense reaction.

To him.

The alcohol. Had to be the alcohol. Or the seed Teagan had planted earlier with her sex-praising. Because nothing—and I mean, nothing—had made me crave intimacy lately. At least, not sexual intimacy with a real, live man.

Just give me a chance here, Bella. I’ll keep you company and help distract you from your bad night if you help distract me and keep me from doing something epically stupid in return. ’Kay?

I paused.

Huh, you know, he had a point there. We could team up and help each other out.

And maybe, together, we could somehow manage to bounce back from our exes tonight.

Just like Haven was doing with her hot new boy roommate.

My eyes widened. Suddenly, my mind was coming up with all kinds of creative ways we could keep each other company. Oh yeah, this could work.

Relaxing into his arms, I sank my cheek more heavily against his heartbeat, appreciating the steady thump against my jaw.

Breathing in his sturdy presence, I set a hand along his side. He murmured a sound of reassurance, and I closed my eyes, going completely boneless as I let him support my weight.

Maybe he wasn’t such a bad hugger after all. He was really warm. And solid.

And so freaking male.

But the best thing about him: I knew I could trust him to never, ever hurt me.

He was safe. He was solid. He was reliable. He was practically family.

There was a level of familiarity between us I’d never had with anyone I’d dated before. And right now, that felt so very alluring.

It felt dependable. Almost like coming home.

Yes. Home.

My eyelids fluttered open as I peeked up at the strong column of his throat. He did feel like home. Plus, damn, he’d grown up nice.

It’d been too long since I’d felt this feminine and comfortable and safe in the arms of a sexy, capable man. I snuggled even deeper into his intoxicating masculinity and sighed. I bet he could take care of me perfectly, in all kinds of different, delicious ways.

There you go, he murmured appreciatively in my ear as he stroked my hair. His low voice caused the muscles deep in my belly to clench. You’re finally relaxing. See, this isn’t so bad now, is it?

No. No, it wasn’t.

Would it be too creepy to tell him that it felt like his voice was making love to me? Because, I swear, I legit sensed an echo of him stroking inside me whenever he talked. His exact pitch vibrated against my clit and made my cervix contract.

Yeah, you’re right. Probably best not to mention that super strange detail.

You smell good, I did admit, though, as I rubbed my cheek against his shirt like a cat in heat.

With another chuckle, he kissed my temple. Yeah, I showered today. I do that sometimes.

Oh, so we were putting our mouths on each other now, were we? Following his lead, I lifted my lips to his throat. "You should shower every day."

With me.

Humming in delight, I pressed my mouth to the pulse beat on the side of his neck before letting my tongue flick across his flesh.

Mmm. He tasted good, too.

Against me, he went still. His muscles tensed.

I nipped him with my teeth. Not hard, just enough to get his attention.

Whoa! Jerking back, he gaped at me a moment, just staring.

Oh yeah. I had his attention now.

Uh… he started but nothing else came out until he furrowed his brow and said, Bella?

Yes? I murmured, biting my lip as I eyed his thick, muscled chest before lifting my hand and running my fingers over his shirt where it molded perfectly to his defined pecs. Damn, but he was built to perfection.

He grasped my wrist as if to stop me, only to halt himself and pull away again. Um… he said instead, looking extremely uncertain. Whatcha doing? he finally asked.

I lifted my gaze to his. His brown eyes were wide with shock and fear and maybe a little interest.

What? I asked playfully, smiling big. You said we could distract each other.

But I didn’t mean—that is— He frowned in confusion. "What did you think I meant?"

Since he seemed to be having problems reading my intentions, I reached down and gripped him between the legs.

Holy shit! he shrieked.

I meant… Stepping close until my face was inches from his, I began to massage him boldly, learning the feel of him through his jeans. You’re not leaving here tonight until we each have the orgasms we both obviously need.

Fuck, Bells, he breathed.

His lashes fluttered shut as the bulge under my fingers began to grow and harden. His lips parted and his head fell back slightly, as if all he could do for a moment was simply enjoy my touch and let the sensations draw him under.

You… he started, sounding drugged, but then he opened his eyes and focused on my face. Damn it. Jerking out of my grip, he lifted his hands to show the world he wasn’t touching me as he accused, You’ve been drinking.

I gave him a shrug and glassy smile. Maybe a little.

"Or a lot, he argued, turning to the side away from me and reaching down to readjust himself in his pants. Christ, I can’t believe I—hey!"

When I reached forward to slip my hand over his taut ass, he leaped farther away, then faced me head-on, legs slightly braced as if encountering a threat.

No. Holding up a finger, he shook it in reprimand. "We are not—you’re drunk."

Not that drunk, I argued.

Bella, he warned, backing away again when I stepped forward. Stay back. I’m serious.

Ooh, I murmured with a shiver and grinned broadly as I moved even closer, causing him to back into the wall of the hall, where he had nowhere to escape. "You’re serious? That sounds intense. And so damn hot. Now, why don’t you seriously get inside me?"

His eyes swirled with heat before he gulped, shook his head, and lifted his hands higher, refusing to partake. Sweat misted his brow. "I said no, Bella. You and I are not having sex. Not now. Not ever. You got that?"

Well.

Wow.

Not ever, huh? That was pretty damn definite. And rude, if you wanted my drunk opinion.

I slowed to a halt and swallowed, trying to taste something other than acute rejection.

With a scowl, he dropped his hands and eased forward. Hey, no, he warned. Don’t look at me like I’m rejecting you.

I narrowed my eyes. "Except that’s exactly what you just did."

No, no, he started, coming closer as he shook his head emphatically. I didn’t. I swear.

I plopped my hands on my hips and leveled him with a glare. "So this is your way of accepting my invitation, by saying no, we’re not ever having sex together?"

"No. Jesus. Grinding his teeth, he pulled on his hat, tugging it lower. I just—you and I—we—Fucking hell, Bells. Don’t do this to me right now. You’re going to make me wish I’d just answered Angie’s call to begin with."

My mouth dropped open. Lifting my eyebrows, I hissed, "Excuse me?"

What? He met my gaze as if confused by my offended tone. But as soon as he saw the hurt in my expression, he rolled his eyes. "Come on. She’s a mistake I could handle making. You are not."

That really didn’t help.

Wow. Tears watered my eyes, and I had to blink rapidly to dry them. Then, I took a step back and glanced up at the ceiling because the blinking wasn’t working so well. So I’m an even bigger mistake than psycho Angie? Always lovely to hear.

"What? No. Whoa. His fingers caught my elbow. That is not what I meant."

I sniffed and met his eyes, only to discover he sincerely looked concerned about me. Wiping at my face, I tried to calm myself as I asked, What did you mean, then? Huh?

"I mean, you’re a fuck of a lot more important to me than she ever was. And you’re loaded right now. So I know exactly how this would play out if you and I—well—you know. You’d regret it in the morning and start avoiding me until we never talked to each other again. Which would kill me. So, no. This isn’t happening. I’m not losing you like that. Angie, I could lose. Not you."

Well, too late, I announced, giving him a tear-stained smile. "I’ve already messed that up. Because if we don’t do this, I’ll be too embarrassed about the way I shamelessly threw myself at you, and you rejected me, that I’ll never be able to look you in the eye again, anyway."

His mouth fell open as an immensely shattered expression crossed his features. Are you serious? he asked quietly. I’m fucked either way?

Sorry, I said without a hint of apology. But yeah, I’d say so.

Well, shit. He ripped off his hat and ran a hand over his head. "Don’t tell me that. I don’t want to be fucked. I don’t want to lose you. I like you. You’re one of the cooler chicks in the group. Who the hell am I supposed to steal push pops from if shit gets awkward between us?"

Let me ask you this… I said, sniffing away the last of my almost-tears. Would you still be turning me down right now if I didn’t have any alcohol in me?

I… He blew out a long breath, stumped by the question, and then he slowly shook his head. Honestly, I don’t know. But probably...not.

While he winced as if afraid he’d answered wrong, I breathed out a relieved breath. Really? That must mean he was at least in some way attracted to me.

Good. I could work with that.

He shrugged, blushing slightly. I mean, yeah. Just because we’ve never explored that path before doesn’t mean I haven’t wondered what it’d be like with you. Because I have. More than once. But—

I set a finger against his lips, having heard enough. Then you shouldn’t turn me down now.

Bells, he rasped, removing my finger from his lips and squeezing my whole hand. His eyes searched mine desperately. You have no idea what you’re saying. If we do this, it changes everything. Like every-fucking-thing. You get that, right?

I opened my mouth, not even sure how I was going to answer—probably by blowing off his concerns—but he shook his head, knowing me too well. "No, this is a huge deal. We could never do some one-night stand or casual, on-and-off hooking up. Not with how close our families are. It would have to be pretty damn permanent, right from the get-go. And sorry, but you’re not capable of making that kind of decision right now. Hell… He let go of me to grip the bill of his hat with both hands and search my eyes. I’m not in a stable enough position to make that kind of decision sober. So we can’t… He dropped his arms heavily at his sides and stepped back, putting space between us. Space that hurt. We just can’t. Okay?"

Realizing he was right—we couldn’t treat anything between us carelessly or hastily—I nodded and hugged myself, feeling suddenly gross for even having brought it up.

Okay, I whispered. Against my will, my chin wobbled, and a sob tore up my throat. I’m sorry.

What? No. Stepping toward me, he took me in his arms and hugged me. "Damn it, don’t do that, Bells. Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry. I’m sorry."

No, it’s… I hiccupped and grabbed the material of his shirt tight as I hid my face in his chest. It’s not your fault. You’re being all awesome and honorable and sweet, trying to do the right thing. And I’m… Sniffing as more tears fell, I bowed my face in shame and squeezed my eyes tight. I might not be too drunk to decide if I wanted sex or not, but I was too drunk to keep my emotions in check, it seemed.

I’ve been a mess since ending my engagement. Because of what it all did to me inside my head. I never knew I was the kind of person who could be so easily deceived. I’m not the shrewd, insightful badass that can spot a liar and a cheater right off the bat, like I always thought I would be. I’m just a gullible idiot. And I—I just don’t know. I’m just sorry I messed everything up between you and me, too. I—

No, no, he insisted. You’re not an idiot at all. And there’s absolutely no way you could mess anything up between us. Not because of one drunk night. Pulling back so he could see my face, he set a finger under my chin and urged me to look up at him. When I refused to open my eyes, he kissed my forehead gently. "Listen to me. Tonight will in no way affect the way I feel about you. Hell, if anything, I’ll probably like you even more now."

Startled to hear that, I opened my eyes. Really?

People usually left when they got too close and learned how pathetic I actually was.

But he looked as serious as a heart attack. I hadn’t scared him off at all.

Really, he confirmed with one solemn word. Because to me, you are still that shrewd, insightful badass. But seeing you question and doubt it right now gives you a human element that’s actually kind of approachable. And sweet.

Hope sparked in my chest. Maybe I wasn’t a lost cause. Maybe people could love me just the way I was.

I met his gaze, and

Reviews for Secrets That We Keep

[ROSVI C. GAETOS · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Yakking story. Terrible! Don’t like it at all. Waste of time