Smart, Sexy and Secretive (The Reed Brothers 2)

I point to my ears and laugh. “I can’t hear a pitter-patter, Henry.” He looks slightly chagrined. “But I get the idea.”

“Miss Madison, she’s the one for you, isn’t she?” he asks.

My heart swells. “The only one.”

He claps my shoulder this time. “Then go get her.” He shoves my shoulder, pushing me toward the elevator. “Go on now. You don’t have to keep an old man company.”

I smile and wave at him, going toward the elevator. I turn back at the last minute. “If I can help with your wife, Henry, please let me know. I have a lot of brothers, and they’re really good for moving furniture and stuff. When she’s ready to come home.”

He grins. “I’ll take you up on that.”

“They’re not good for much else,” I shout as the elevator doors close. Except for supporting me in everything that I do. Except for loving me unconditionally. Except for when they kick my ass for being stupid. They’re useless, all right.

I smile all the way up the elevator. I don’t knock when I get to Emily’s door. Instead, I use my key.

Emily

Trip gets in the elevator behind me and has the nerve to try to back me into a corner. His arms go to each side of my head, trapping me. I turn my face, because he’s had too much to drink. His breath smells like straight-up Jack Daniels.

He was really quiet in the limo coming home, but I have known him long enough to see all the signs. I put my hand on his chest and shove. “Move back, Trip,” I say.

He leans down, breathing into my face. I turn my head and close my eyes. Fighting with Trip when he’s drunk is like kicking a puppy. A rabid puppy who won’t stop foaming at the mouth and trying to bite you. It’s the only kind of puppy I wouldn’t mind kicking in the teeth.

“I don’t want to move back,” he says, slurring as he talks to me. “You used to like it when we were close like this. You said I didn’t show you enough affection.”

He runs his meaty hand down the side of my face. “Back up, Trip,” I warn him again. All it would take is one big push, and he’d be flat on his tail. I’m sure of that.

The elevator dings, and I duck beneath his arm. He groans and follows me to the door. “Hurry up,” he grouses. “I have to piss.”

I shake my head, let him in, and he runs by me, heading straight for the bathroom. He doesn’t close the bathroom door, and I can hear him. There’s no need to even try to talk to him about respect and his lack of it. He’s too drunk.

I look longingly at the front door. Now that he’s inside the apartment, I can catch a cab and go to Logan’s. My heart warms at the idea of it. I turn toward the door. There’s nothing I need here. My bag is still at Logan’s apartment. And so is my heart.

Trip grabs my elbow and says, “Where do you think you’re going?” just as I reach for the door.

“I’m going to Logan’s,” I say. There’s no need to lie to him. “Get out of my way.”

He stands between me and the door with his arms folded, his feet spread wide. Shoot. I should just go to my room and wait for him to pass out. I turn to walk in that direction, but he grabs for me again. I jerk my arm from his grip. That hurts.

“Stop it, Trip,” I say. “Just go to bed.”

He grabs my hips and pulls me to him, grinding himself against me. “I will if you’ll go with me.”

I wouldn’t go to the store with him, much less to bed. “You’re drunk, Trip. Go sleep it off.”

“I’m not so drunk that I can’t get it up,” he says.

Yes, I can feel that much against my stomach where he’s pressed against me. I take a deep breath and take his face in my hands, looking into his eyes. “Go to bed,” I say softly. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

He bends his head and presses a kiss to my neck. Then he bites down, sucking hard on my skin. I shove him back, covering my neck with my hand. “What was that, Trip?” I shout. “God, what’s wrong with you?”

“It’s just a little love bite,” he says, grinning. “You used to love for me to nibble on your neck.”

“That wasn’t a nibble,” I say. “It’s like you were trying to suck my blood or something.”

“I’ll suck on something,” he says, as his hand comes up to cup my breast.

I can’t help it. I slap him. I slap him directly across the face. I hit him so hard that I have to shake the sting from my hand.

It’s in that second that I realize my front door is open, and then Logan charges across the room like a bull and hits Trip in the side, tumbling with him to the floor.

“Logan!” I cry, tugging on his shoulder. He has his hands around Trip’s throat and noises are coming from his mouth that I don’t understand. I’ve never seen him this angry, but apparently intense emotion affects his speech.

Trip grunts from beneath him, and I see what’s going to happen before it ever does. Trip reaches for an urn that’s on the floor by the couch, and he picks it up to hit Logan over the head with it. It bounces off his back, though, and just tumbles to the floor. It’s plastic, so I don’t know what Trip thought he was going to do with it.

“Let him up, Logan,” I say, getting my face down near his. “Let him up. He’s drunk.”

He doesn’t let him up, though. He keeps his knee on Trip’s chest. He’s not hurting him, but he’s holding him there. “What the f**k was he doing to you that made you slap him?” he asks.