Dirty Secret (The Burke Brothers #1)(43)
Author: Emma Hart

People say a little of something is better than a lot of nothing.

They’re wrong. They’re so fucking wrong it’s unbelievable.

A little of Sofie isn’t better than none of her. It’s the worst kind of torture, because a little always leaves you wanting more.

A little of her, her lips across mine, her fingers digging into my skin, her legs around my waist, is worse than if she’d shoved me off her and told me she didn’t want me.

If I hadn’t had her beneath me earlier, curled around me, making those tiny, happy noises into my mouth, I wouldn’t be burning with the urge to touch her and finish what we started.

My fingers wouldn’t be twitching with the intense urge to rip her shirt over her head and see that so-called imperfect stomach. I wouldn’t be dying to run my lips over her breasts and down her body to her hips. I wouldn’t be so fucking desperate to pull those shorts down her legs along with her underwear and tease her until she’s wet and ready for me.

I wouldn’t be so fucking turned on at the thought of being inside her and having her cry my goddamn name as she comes around me.

I can still hear it, a ghost of the past, an echo of before. My name on her lips, frantic and pleading. I can still feel her gripping my back like a phantom touch as she hovers on the edge of oblivion. I can sure as fucking hell remember as her whole body trembled and clenched and she gave in to something only I could give her.

Damn right only I could make her feel that way.

I never planned for it to be any other way. She was never supposed to be able to let anyone else touch her the way I did. She was always supposed to be for me, just for me, completely mine.

Our first time was just that. Our fucking first time. Both of us. It was awkward and we laughed and we cried and we teased each other for days after. But none of it mattered because it was something we shared, just for us. It was our moment, the very moment I knew I’d never want anyone else but her.

I’d waited for her for a reason.

I’d played with other girls before, and they’d played back. I wasn’t completely innocent, but neither was she. Both of us knew what we were doing until it came to the end, until it came to our bodies becoming one. Goddammit they did, eventually. In an explosion of heat and pleasure that shook me to my core.

I’ve had girls since, but none of them were her. With Sofie it was always about her, making sure she had what she needed, ensuring she cried my name before my lips even whispered hers. With the others, it was about me finding the release, because I never gave a shit about them.

You can’t give a shit about someone when your heart is living in another chest.

And ain’t that the damn truth. When she left she took more than my daughter. She took my heart and a good fucking chunk of my soul. She tore me to pieces, shredding me until all I had was the music.

I could do nothing but throw myself into the music, and I feel that way now. I feel like I need to grab my guitar and disappear onto the beach until the only connection I have to her is the song I’m writing.

They’re all for her. Always. I wonder if she even knows that every note I’ve written, every song I’ve sung, they’ve always been hers. Every heartbroken word, every drawl that sets hearts pounding around the country, every hidden plea, were hers. Are hers. Nothing will change that.

You can’t write music unless you have something to sing for.

I always hoped she’d hear the music and think of me. It was what kept me going, at first. Fame was on the horizon. One song and we’d make it. A couple thousand more sales and we’d make the Billboard charts.

I wanted her to look at that success and realize what she’d lost.

I wanted her to look at that success and realize what could have been.

Being young isn’t even an excuse for feeling that way. I still feel like it. I still want her to look at the Billboards and the Teen Choice Awards and all the other fucking things we have and know what she gave up. I want her to realize what she should have had, because I’m still the guy that fell in love with her back then.

Mostly, though, mostly I want her to look at me and see what she gave up.

I slam the truck door shut and walk into my house, leaving her trailing behind me. Doesn’t want to be with me, my fucking left ball. How does she kiss me that desperate way and not want me?

And the worst thing is, I still shouldn’t want her. Not even for a fucking second.

I walk into the front room and Kye looks up at me. “You’re trending on Twitter.”

“What?”

“You’re trending on Twitter. Your divas”—he shoots an amused look toward Sofie—“are just about giving birth themselves with the confirmation of Mila.”

“Worldwide?” I ask, stepping forward to grab the tablet off him.

“Yeah, ya cocky bastard. Worldwide.”

I nod slowly. “I’ll take it.”

I hand the tablet back to him and turn back to Sofie. Her eyebrows are raised so high they’re practically in her hairline, and her lips are parted in disbelief.

“What?” I ask.

“Our daughter’s identity is out for the whole world to discover and you think trending on Twitter is cool?” She shrugs off the light sweater she put on before she left her house. “Screw you, dickhead.”

She turns and storms out of the back door. It slams behind her. I drop back on the sofa, Mila’s bag bouncing against the cushion next to me, and groan.

Kye looks across at me, a pained look in his eyes. “Ouch.”

“Fucking ouch,” I correct him, covering my eyes with my hands.

So close. We were so fucking close to being us again, and I fucked it up. Every way. Always me.

Ironic how she made one big fuckup and I condemned her for it, now I’m the one that can’t stop making them. And each time I’m more of an asshole. It’s like I’m trying to outdo myself or something.

“I never thought I’d say it, but you two argue more than before.”

“Yeah, shame it doesn’t end the way it used to. I’d be one satisfied asshole if it did.” I run my fingers through my hair. “What the fuck have I gotta do?”

“To stop her being mad at you? Ever realized this whole situation is kinda backward?”

“No shit.” I look at my brother. “She’s the one who kept Mila a secret, but I’m the one working out how I can make my mistakes up to her.”

“That’s because she righted hers.” Leila strolls into the room and puts her hands on her hips. “She did what she could to fix it. You just sit there waiting for some divine intervention or somethin’ to fix yours.”