Redeeming (Red Lips & White Lies Book 2)

Part 1

I don’t know if I could ever complete someone. But driving another person batshit crazy seems completely reasonable to me.

—Caitlin’s Secret Thoughts

“You ready yet, kitten?”

In through the nose.

Out through the mouth.

I will not kill Callen Sinclair on my birthday.

I will not kill Callen Sinclair on my birthday.

I will not kill Callen Sinclair on my birthday.

“What was that?” My older brother’s ridiculously hot best friend leans against my door frame and crosses his stupidly big biceps over his chest . . . and dear lord, I think my eye might actually twitch a little as I repeat my mantra for a fourth time like I’m in the middle of my hot yoga class.

You’d think after living with Callen for four years, we’d have gotten past this love-hate relationship we’ve had since we were kids.

I mean . . . you’d be wrong, but you can think it.

I take another deep breath in and step into my closet.

“Nothing,” I snap back at him while I grab my hot-pink Jimmy Choos, then sit down at my vanity to put them on. I lean down, then toss my hair over my shoulder to look up at the big oaf. “Remind me again why you’re driving.”

Callen’s eyes linger a little too long on my legs before he looks away.

Good. I like to remind him that I am, in fact, a woman, and not some little girl to be ignored anymore. Even if I’m pretty sure most days Callen doesn’t even realize I have tits and a great ass. One I’m definitely going to be shaking at the bar in a few minutes while he’s probably hitting on some skank.

Not that I’m jealous or anything.

Lucky skanks.

To him. I’ll always just be Maddox’s little sister.

“I’m driving because your brother and Killian are going right from West End to the airport. Does Vegas ring any bells?”

I nail him with a glare.

“Yes, dumbass. I know they’re flying to Vegas. But half my family lives in this building. How did I get lucky enough to be stuck with your sparkling personality?” I slide on my shoes, buckle both ankle straps, then stand and adjust my dress before grabbing my clutch.

His eyes stay hard as they follow me across the room until I’m in front of him, and the sexy jerk finally smiles. It’s a really good smile.

Dark jeans and an even darker green t-shirt shouldn’t look that good on any man, but then Callen’s never been just any man. He stands more than a foot taller than my own five feet, four inches, with thick brown hair and eyes the color of the most vibrant football field he’s probably ever played on . . . Not that I’ve studied his eyes or anything.

If that wasn’t enough to have half the women in Kroydon Hills panting after him, his body is a work of art. And I’m not just talking about the intricate tattoos inked on his golden skin. No . . . that would be too easy. It’s the whole perfectly chiseled, endlessly tanned and beautifully muscled package under his artwork that could make a woman stupid. And I’m not a stupid woman.

It’s not fair.

But then again, nothing about Callen has ever been fair.

“After you, Cait.”

“Whatever.” I close my eyes and shake my head, clearing my thoughts. I might not kill Callen Sinclair today, but no one said I couldn’t objectify him . . . just a teeny, tiny bit. “Let’s just go.”

I reach around his big head to hit the light switch, and he catches my wrist in his deliciously calloused hand before his lips tip up further on one side.

Like I said . . . not fair.

Callen turns off the light, then drops my hand and presses his to the small of my back, ushering me out. At the first touch of skin on skin, I command my body not to shiver. Maybe a backless dress wasn’t the best design to go with, but when I designed this dress, I did it with tonight in mind, and I’m not changing now.

His warm breath skirts over my ear, and his hand slides down just a touch further onto pink silk as he rests it on the swell of my ass, and I officially lose the fight.

“No cat ears tonight, kitten?” he asks with a gravelly, sexy voice, and I yank my hand away.

“Fuck you, Callen.”

The ass laughs, low and long. “Come on, Cait. It’s a joke.”

“One year. One birthday. And you’re still calling me kitten.” I smack him in the gut with my purse and leave him behind as he bends at the waist, laughing.

Callen Sinclair has been the bane of my existence since I was six years old and he saved my damn cat from a tree before turning to my brother and making fun of me for crying.

I didn’t know what a crush was back then. I was just a little girl who thought he hung the damn moon. I no longer have that crush. I wouldn’t say no to an orgasm from Kroydon Hills’ biggest manwhore . . . but I’m one of hundreds of women who probably feel the same way.

The difference is they’re not his roommate.

Callen

“Iswear to God, it’s like she wants to get in trouble,” Maddox groans as he hands me a beer and looks out at the dance floor where Caitlin and Bellamy are laughing and dancing without somehow sloshing their pink martinis all over the floor.

I look at them again and ignore the fact that I know exactly what she’s doing and how good she looks doing it—because it’s burned into my fucking retinas like a once-in-a-lifetime solar eclipse—and shrug instead. “They’re fine. You’re here. I’m here. Fuck, even Jude’s here . . . somewhere.”

Caitlin hates having her bodyguard anywhere near her, cousin or not. But her parents have never let up on that one. Probably the only time the princess has ever been told no.

Just then, Killian shimmies his way between the girls, making himself the meat in a sandwich consisting solely of our roommates.

If someone would have told me years ago that I’d end up sharing a penthouse with Maddox, his sister, her best friend, and their cousin Killian, I’d have said the fuck I will. But here I am, four years after Maddox and I swapped our two-bedroom condo for the five-bedroom penthouse with four fucking roommates and two goddamned dogs. For someone like me, who was basically raised as an only child because all five of my siblings are about twenty years older than me, I’d have sworn on everything that’s holy there’d be no fucking way. No fucking chance. Not happening. But when that girl out there, in that tiny little pink thing she’s calling a dress, marched into the penthouse with her own roommate, two brand-new puppies, and her brother glaring behind her, what the hell was I going to say?

Okay, yeah . . . I probably could have said no.

But it wouldn’t have just been telling Caitlin no.

Something I’ve never been good at. None of us have.

It would have been telling her mom no because she was who struck some kind of deal with Madman that ended with Cait and Bellamy taking our extra bedrooms. And I gotta say, no one tells Amelia Beneventi no.

Fuck me . . .

I sip my beer, knowing it’s one and done tonight. Football is already in full swing. Our first preseason game was yesterday, and after a bitch of a season strife with injuries and late-season losses last year, the eyes of fans everywhere are on the Philly Kings.

We won yesterday, but that doesn’t mean a goddamn thing.

Not yet. Not when everything can change with one single play.

Some dude I don’t know makes his way over to the girls and Killian. “Who’s the douche?”

Maddox drops his bottle to the bar and shakes his head. “Guess that’s Bellamy’s new guy. I think he’s a physical therapist at the hospital.”

He looks like a strong wind could knock him over.

“When did Bellamy get a new guy?” I ask as I watch them closely.

The girls might be pains in the ass, but they’re our pains in the ass.

Maddox shakes his head as the song changes, and Killian joins us. “She went on a date with him last week,” Maddox tells me.

“Ross?” Killian asks as he looks back at the girls. “She’s bored. He’ll be gone by the third date like all the rest of them.”

West End’s newest bartender puts three more beers on the gleaming mahogany bar and smiles at Maddox, like she’s hoping he’ll tip her by bending her over that bar later. He won’t. He never fucks around at work. Smart man.

“Hey, are Kenzie and the girls coming tonight?” Killian asks us he looks around.

“Nah, man,” I tell him. “I helped her hook up her TV in the condo earlier. She’s moved in and set up and she starts her new job at the hospital with Wren tomorrow. But it will be nice to have her back from DC.”

Maddox looks up and grins. “Pretty sure we’re all getting together to celebrate her being home after we’re back from Vegas.”

My phone vibrates in my pocket as Maddox and Killian discuss getting out of here to head to the private airstrip nearby. I pull it out, wondering who the hell is texting this late on a Saturday. Pretty much everyone I talk to is somewhere inside this bar for Cait’s birthday.

Dad

Can you all come over tomorrow?

Declan

What time?

Of course, my oldest brother is the first to answer. Par for the course. Dec’s always been the overachiever brother. He’s the oldest of my three brothers and two sisters. He followed in Dad’s footsteps on the field and eventually off the field. Now he coaches the Kings too. Rumors have been swirling he’s going to be Dad’s replacement for head coach when the old man finally retires. Not that that’s happening any time soon.

Murphy

We won’t be back from Alabama until early afternoon. It has to be later in the day.

Guess Murphy went to see his son Finn play football this weekend. Murph is the same age as my sister Nattie and Brady. They all went to school together, and that’s how our parents met. That’s also why my siblings are all twenty years older than me. I was a surprise.

Nattie

Like a family dinner?

Cooper

We bringing the kids?

Carys

I can bring dessert.

Did I mention my brother Cooper married my sister Carys?

Because that’s not awkward as fuck to try and explain to people.

Coop was already out of the house when Mom and Carys moved in with Dad. So technically, they were stepsiblings, but it’s not as gross as it sounds. Not that it’s easy to wrap your head around when you’re a kid. Luckily, I’ve had twenty years to get used to it.

Callen

Just tell me when and where.

There. Answered. I just wait for them to tell me what to do.

It’s always how we work.

Declan

Aren’t you out with the kids? Better not overindulge, Callen. The season’s started.

Lucky me. I basically have five siblings who all think they’re my parents because I’m closer to their kids’ ages.

Cooper

You know your kids are all grown ass adults?

Nattie

Just you wait, Cooper. Giving your babies freedom sucks.

Murphy

Dude, Declan. Your babies are grown with babies of their own.

Declan

Nat’s kid is a rockstar, and she still has her on Life360. Don’t give me shit.

Carys

How about Callen’s almost thirty? Are you seriously asking him what he’s doing out this late during football season?

I fucking love my sister.

Dad

Some things never change. Just stop by when you can tomorrow. Just you kids. Text or call before you come. I’m going to bed.

And Callen . . . don’t drink too much. You were slow yesterday.

I shove my phone back in my pocket and grind my teeth as Killian claps my shoulder. “We’re getting out of here, man. See ya in a few days.”

I nod and look from him to Maddox. “Don’t worry. I’ve got Meatball,” I joke, because when Caitlin moved in with Cupcake, she also came with Meatball. Her mom tried to say Meatball was for Cait, but really that damn dog is Maddox’s dog. Fat, lazy little shit with a strange little mean streak when you piss him off.

“Thanks, man.” He lifts his chin, then looks out at Caitlin one more time. “Keep an eye on her for me?”

“Pretty sure that’s what Jude’s for.” I let my eyes trail back over the fucking wicked little goddess on the dance floor. The way her hips sway. The curve of her breast, along with the fantastic glimpse of side boob she’s giving me, as well as every other red-blooded man and probably most of the women in the room.

Fuck me.

It’s been too goddamn long since I’ve gotten laid.

“Jude’s gonna keep her from getting shot or kidnapped. Not from going home with a piece of shit.”

I silently groan.

The thoughts I’ve been having more and more recently are enough to get me killed.

By Maddox.

And let’s not forget his dad . . . Sam Beneventi is feared by the whole goddamned city.

Or worse . . . by his mom, who’s killed at least one person I know of since she moved to Kroydon Hills. She did it to save Declan’s wife, Annabelle, while she was pregnant with the twins. She didn’t hesitate. Killed the crazy bitch with a single bullet. So yeah, I keep my thoughts to myself.

“Thanks, brother,” Maddox tells me, like I have a fucking choice in the matter, before he walks away.

He and I have been as close as brothers since we could walk. Our families are tight, and as the two oldest guys of our generation, we were always together.

When Caitlin came along a few years later, we both took on the big brother role. At that age, of course we would because seriously, we were four fucking years old. We thought she was cool as shit. By the time we were eight, we’d sliced our palms open with Madman’s first pocketknife and called ourselves blood brothers. That made Caitlin as much my sister as his in both our eyes. So when Maddox declared Caitlin was the worst a few years later, I hopped right on board that train.

Even if she never really annoyed me. Not then. That shit didn’t start until college, and it was for way worse reasons.

Ones I’ve been trying to forget ever since.

It was easier before.

Before she grew up.

Before she lived with us.

Before I let myself watch her when no one else was looking.

“Come on, Caitlin. I need you to get out of the car.”

Caitlin refuses to open her eyes, but I know the little brat is awake. The drive home from West End is legit, five minutes. We could have walked it faster than it’s taking to get the drunk birthday girl home.

“Cait . . . Come on,” I groan through clenched teeth.

“I’m fine,” she mumbles. “Just leave me. I don’t wanna walk.”

“Maybe if you didn’t wear six-inch heels, you’d want to walk.” I get out and slam my door before rounding the truck to her side. Her pale skin is practically glowing under the fluorescent garage lights when I open her damn door. “Kitten . . .”

She doesn’t even bat an icy-blue eye at the nickname she despises.

“All right, up you go.” I scoop her up, and her eyes stay closed, but the troublemaker smiles and wraps her arms around my neck as I hip-check the door closed. “Hang on.”

“Hmmm . . .” she hums deep in her throat, content with having gotten her way, and I ignore the way my dick jumps in my jeans. Her soft hair tickles my face and envelopes me in her sexy scent. Vanilla, honey, and spice. I always thought it reminded me of bourbon. But it’s pure Caitlin as it wraps around me.

I ignore our ancient doorman as I walk through the lobby to the elevator.

“You really not gonna walk, kitten?” I press as I move us into the elevator, and her smile grows just enough for something deep inside me to fracture. She used to smile at me like that all the damn time.

“Am I too heavy, Callen? Not strong enough to carry me to our condo?” One eye cracks open as she giggles. “And stop calling me kitten.”

She scrunches her eye closed, and I lose the fight entirely.

My head thunks back against the elevator wall as I pray for patience until the doors open again on our floor. I adjust my hold on her and type in our key code, then walk into the kitchen.

“Here you go.” I sit her down on the counter. “Don’t move.”

Caitlin reaches out for me until I stop and hold her in place. “What are you doing?”

My normally prickly black cat looks soft and pliable and so damn good in front of me. “Taking care of you. Now lean back. Don’t move. And let me.”

I wait until she does as she’s told. “Good girl. Stay.”

“Make up your mind, Sinclair. Am I a dog or a cat?”

I look at her from the fridge and grab a water bottle.

Fucking gorgeous.

That’s what she is.

Fucking gorgeous trouble.

“Here. Take these.” I open a bottle of ibuprofen and pop two pills into her hand, then crack the water bottle. “Now swallow.”

Her eyes pop wide open. “Oh, I could swallow.”

“Jesus Christ, Caitlin. The damn pills. Swallow the damn pills.”

In slow-motion, she follows her orders, her drunk eyes focused on me the entire time, and her pink-stilettoed feet swinging back and forth against the lower cabinets. “Stop doing that,” she tells me softly.

I scrub my hand down my face, absolutely fucking exhausted as I stand in front of her. “Doing what, Cait?”

“Looking at me the way you are.” Her voice softens. “The way you used to.”

Shit.

“Caitlin . . .”

She reaches her hand out and rests it against my chest. “You gonna ask me what I wished for, Callen?”

I don’t answer. I can’t.

But as if tethered to her, I feel myself being reeled in and move closer.

“I wished⁠—”

“Don’t.” I press my thumb over her lips, silencing her.

Big fucking mistake.

She presses her lips against the pad of my thumb before her tongue darts out.

“You’re drunk, Caitlin.”

I’m a goddamned beast, I’m so strong, but turning this woman down takes more strength than I ever could have hoped to have. And I’m pretty sure she can see it on my face.

“I miss you, Callen.”

Like a dagger to the heart, she strikes hard and fast, knowing exactly what she’s doing.

“I’m right here,” I say the words, even as I take a step back.

“Not the way you used to be,” she pouts, even if she’s right. “Not since⁠—”

I pick her up and set her on her feet. “Time for bed.”

Caitlin’s eyes flash with hurt, but it’s better this way.

“Come on, kitten.” I guide her to her room in silence.

Neither one of us ready to admit defeat.

And make no mistake. We both just lost this little battle.

Ten minutes later, she’s changed—not that she cooperated—and tucked into her bed with her water bottle next to her on the nightstand, a trashcan by the bed, and Cupcake and Meatball both snoring at the foot of her bed.

Her heavy eyes close again. “One day, you’ll tell me why, Callen.”

I shake my head, knowing she’s wrong, and wait until she falls asleep before moving across the hall to my own room and into a cold shower, where I jerk off to thoughts of her lips wrapped around my dick instead of my thumb.

There’s not a doubt in my mind Caitlin Beneventi is going to be the death of me.