Page 42 of Quiet Rage (Wicked Falls Elite #5)

Tamson

So this is what blood money can build.

I shouldn’t think that way. Not now. Not anymore.

It isn’t fair to Kellen. He didn’t ask to be born to somebody like his dad.

Time and reflection showed me he was only doing his best to survive.

Months of thinking it over and journaling about it have helped me find peace. I understand a little better now.

Still, the truth of the past lingers in my mind as I take in the house and the grounds around it.

More like a mansion on an estate. I knew he had money, but I didn’t know we were talking mansion territory.

And there I was, thinking Emma’s house was impressive—and I mean, it is—but this is next level, right down to the dramatic lighting that makes it look like a showplace gleaming in the dark.

I guess freaking out a little over the house is a distraction from what I really should be freaking out over. Being here, being with him. Not that it’s a bad thing at all. I have imagined this so many times. Whenever I miss him the most.

But now it’s real. My brain is buzzing like an overturned beehive, and my body hums with excitement and nerves by the time we come to a stop.

“Here we are,” he announces, even though he doesn’t need to. Is he nervous, too?

“This is…impressive.”

“I’ve been thinking about downsizing, to tell you the truth. It’s a lot for one person.”

So he lives here alone. I mean, I knew that, but getting the confirmation gives me an extra hit of relief. I don’t know why.

Stop kidding yourself. You know why. Yes, it’s the same reason why I accepted his invitation.

The same reason I accepted Emma’s invitation, for that matter.

I wanted to see her, of course, and it was nice getting to hang out with the twins after hearing so much about them through our texts and phone calls the past four months.

But secretly, way down deep in my heart, I was hoping I could see him. That maybe, just maybe, fate would do me a solid and put him in my path. Emma probably gave Easton the idea to bring him over. I’ll have to thank her.

Right now, I have to pretend not to be completely overwhelmed by the level of wealth all around me. “This is…a lot,” I whisper once we step inside.

The front entry hall is massive, with a curved staircase leading up to the second floor and big, airy rooms to my right and left. I could fit my whole house in one of them, easily.

“Like I said, I don’t think I need all the space. It’s a lot to maintain. Staff to pay and all that.” When I can’t help giggling, he gives me a quizzical look. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just… you have all of this to think about now. You’re barely any older than me, but you’re handling all of this. I’m impressed.”

“I could give you a tour, if you want.” But I don’t think he wants to do that. I can tell by the way he sounds sort of half-hearted.

That’s fine, because I don’t want a tour. “Actually…” I’ve been waiting for this for months. All I want right now is you. “Actually, I’m pretty tired.” I wish I could come out and say exactly what I’m thinking and feeling. I wish I didn’t feel so awkward.

All he has to do is reach out and take my hand.

That’s it. The first touch is magic, dissolving my fears, making me wonder why I was ever afraid in the first place.

The same sense of wholeness I felt when I first saw him tonight settles into my bones.

This is what I’ve been missing. While I’ve spent these four months building my life, becoming who I want to be, I’ve missed this. Now, I can do anything.

Including letting him lead me up the stairs.

“It is really beautiful,” I murmur, while my heart tries to burst out of my chest. I don’t have to be nervous.

This is Kellen. All of the past is behind us—his father is dead; there’s no reason for anybody to hurt me.

No more threats. So why are my hands starting to get sweaty?

I kind of wish he wasn’t holding it. It’s a little embarrassing.

If he notices, he doesn’t care. “I guess so. I don’t know. I have a lot on my mind these days.”

“Of course you do. And you’re handling it all so well — the twins told me so before you got there,” I confess.

“What else did they tell you?” At least there’s humor in his voice and a twinkle in his eye when he looks down at me after we’ve reached the upstairs hall.

“They said you’ve been working too hard,” I tell him. I believe that. He looks tired.

“Right now, I’m feeling pretty good.” He leads me to the end of the hall, where a sprawling bedroom waits.

It’s an entire suite, I realize—there’s a dressing room, a separate sitting area, a large, attached bathroom.

“I decided to take this for myself,” he explains, like he has to justify it. “I replaced the furniture.”

“It’s gorgeous.” It doesn’t feel like that’s the right word, but I can’t come up with a better one.

I’m too overwhelmed. This is all so much.

I’m standing in Kellen’s bedroom after seeing him for the first time in months and telling myself over and over that I had to get him out of my system.

That we were nothing, that I had to get used to it.

Deep down inside, did I ever really believe that?

But being here with him and actually sleeping in the same bed are two different things.

I’m shifting my weight from one foot to the other when he notices and frowns.

“Hey, listen to me.” Perching at the foot of the bed, he offers a shrug, but I see through his attempts at being casual.

He’s as nervous as I am. There’s something sweet about that.

“I only want to be with you. Near you, I mean. I didn’t bring you here with any other expectations.

If you want, I promise I won’t touch you,” he concludes.

“It’s just…” Looking at the bed, looking at him, everything’s all mixed up inside. “I don’t know if things could ever be the way they used to be. But I do like being here with you.”

“That’s a step in the right direction, I guess.

” He gets up, goes to the dressing room, and I watch him open a drawer in there and pull out a T-shirt.

I instantly know it’s going to look like a dress on me.

Not a short dress, either. When he comes back and hands it over, a sizzle of heat races through me at the point where our fingers brush.

Maybe it’s dumb, considering he’s seen me naked, but I duck into the bathroom to get changed.

Should I forget everything that’s happened before now and start fresh?

Is it possible to do that? It would mean asking a lot of myself.

Pretending things are the way they used to be.

Only the stakes are so high now. It’s not my life on the line or my family’s safety.

It’s my heart. My future. Can I trust him with that? Sure, he has said a lot of things, he’s told me he cares. I guess there’s only so many times a person can get burned before they avoid anything too hot. And he has burned me to my core.

But not because he wanted to. Can I believe that?

Standing here in this ridiculously beautiful bathroom—it’s like something out of a reality show about rich people with nothing better to do with their money—I need to take the leap. To have a little faith. Otherwise, what am I doing here?

I don’t want to think about the bad things tonight. I want to think about the good things, things that only happened between us.

No debt, no Dad, no Tiana or anything else.

Playing pretend. Cuddling while we watched Twilight , which I know he couldn’t have actually wanted to do. He only wanted me to be happy.

The way it felt in his arms. How right, how true. How safe.

And I can’t pretend I haven’t craved the pleasure he showed me. Am I supposed to go without that for the rest of my life, now that I know it’s possible to soar?

He even told me nothing has to happen tonight. Because he really cares. I mean that much to him. That means more than any words he could say.

I’m feeling a little better about the whole situation by the time I open the bathroom door.

There’s a Kellen-sized lump under the blankets—he didn’t waste any time getting into bed.

The very, very huge bed. I have to climb into it, which makes me giggle softly.

“I’m pretty sure I would need skates to get around to your side of the bed before morning,” I joke.

“What?” He cups a hand around his ear, squinting like he’s concentrating. “I can’t hear you all the way over there.”

When we’re laughing like this, it feels pointless to leave so much space empty between us. His eyebrow lifts when I scoot toward him. “That wasn’t me trying to convince you to come closer,” he murmurs.

“I know that.”

“I told you I wouldn’t touch you,” he reminds me.

This is it. I can chicken out now, or I can go for what my heart wants more than anything. I can finally take what’s right here in front of me and claim it as mine.

“What if I want you to touch me?” I whisper. His eyes gleam in the dark, reflecting my pulse-pounding need, as he reaches out, takes me by the waist with one strong arm, and pulls me close against his bare chest.

I can barely breathe, but it doesn’t matter.

This is what I needed more than oxygen, more than anything.

The feel of his hand on my skin, running up my thigh, pulling a high-pitched whimper from my throat before he touches his lips to my forehead, my nose, my cheeks.

All I want to do is bask in this sensation.

The feeling of being completely worshipped.

“What else do you want me to do?” he whispers, dragging his fingers over my flesh.

I don’t have to answer in words. All I have to do is tip my head to meet his lips. It’s fireworks, a whole truckload of them exploding in my skull all at once, lighting my body up. I thought I could live without this? Who was I trying to kid?

“Fuck, Dragonfly…”