Redeeming (Red Lips & White Lies Book 2)

It takes a strong man to handle a strong woman.

I don’t have an attitude and unrealistic expectations.

I know my worth and refuse to settle for less.

—Caitlin’s Secret Thoughts

Callen’s lips brush my shoulder blades the next morning as I lie naked, my chest against the bed and my face buried in his pillow, exhausted and deliciously sore in the most decadent way. But that’s what happens when you spend the entire night being worshipped. And there is not a single doubt in my mind—I was worshipped last night.

All night.

Six . . . No—seven times.

“Callen,” I purr, loving his lips on my skin but unable to move. “I need sleep . . . or maybe coffee.”

That’s when the scent of freshly brewed Lavazza coffee tickles my nose.

Ohh. He’s good.

I turn my face to him, and he runs a finger along my temple and tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. His lips tip up on one side, as cocky as ever. “Your wish is my command, kitten.”

“You’re dressed?” I murmur as I roll over. The sheet catches, and Callen’s eyes immediately darken as my nipples tighten when they’re exposed to the cool air. He licks his lips, and I pull the sheets back up. “Down, boy. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to walk today as it is.”

“You weren’t complaining last night.” He puts the cup of coffee down on his nightstand and sits next to me. “I could kiss it and make it better . . .”

Butterflies take flight in my stomach as I trail my eyes from the beautiful Italian coffee to the beautiful man who made it for me and notice, again, that he’s fully dressed. “Why are you dressed, Callen?”

The sexy smile slips from his face, and my heart sinks with it.

“Callen . . . You’re only ever quiet when something’s wrong.” I sit up, and he hands me a shirt. “What’s this?”

It smells like him, and I slide it down and stand, amused at the way it hits just above my knees. There’s no way he’s ever getting this back.

Why are guys clothes always so much softer than women’s?

“Okay.” I cross my arms protectively over my chest, bracing for whatever’s coming. Time to face facts . . . I’ve got a pretty good idea where it’s going. “Let’s just start this fight. And pay close attention, buddy. This is going to be a fight. And if you say last night was a mistake, it’s going to be a fist fight because I’m not scared to throw hands.”

Callen laughs, and I’m not sure whether I should be relieved or angry.

“What are you laughing at?” I demand, pissed off that my happy post-seven-hour orgasmic bliss is over.

“You’re cute when you’re pissed, Cait.” He gathers my face in his hands and brushes his lips over mine, and all the fight leaves my body. “It wasn’t a mistake. But we need to talk.”

“If that’s supposed to make me relax, it’s not working,” I warn him as I wrap my arms around his waist. “Can’t we just stay in our little bubble, please, Callen? It’s not like I don’t know what you’re going to say.”

It’s also not like my heart doesn’t already hurt just thinking about it.

“It’s not that easy, Caitlin. I’ve tried to fight this thing between us for years, and you see where that got us.” He pulls me against him and rests his chin on my head. “But he’s my best friend, and I’ve got to talk to him before you and I can⁠—”

“Can what?” I interrupt as anger and frustration battle with an overwhelming feeling of impending loss. A loss I’m not sure I’ll survive. How can it have been one night when it feels like a lifetime. “What, Callen? We haven’t had twenty-four hours to figure out what a we is and if we even want a we. How about you take the time to figure that out with me before you worry about how it’s going to affect Maddox.”

He runs his hands over my hair, and I fight the chill that skirts down my spine.

“He lives here, Cait. He’s going to know right away something’s going on. I can’t let him walk into that. I’ve got to talk to him.” His voice is firm and steady, and if he thinks he’s leaving little room for argument, then maybe he doesn’t know me all that well.

I try to push away, but Callen’s arms are like a steel vice locked in place.

“If you talk to Maddox right now, I swear, Callen, it will be for nothing because I will never talk to you again.”

“Caitlin . . .” he groans and loosens his hold on me.

“I know he’s your best friend, and I know you’re loyal. I get it, I swear.” I take a step back, still in his arms but able to see his face now. Needing him to see how serious I am because I’m not sure I’ll ever have enough lady balls to get through this again, and I need to see his face when I do. “This is my life. Your life. Not his. I’m the one standing here, in your room, wearing your clothes, with the taste of your cum still on my lips from last night. My feelings matter more than Maddox’s do right now. And if you don’t agree with that or can’t see that, then you’re not the man I thought you were.”

“Sounds like an ultimatum, Cait.” A muscle twitches as a hard line sets in his sharp jaw.

“It’s really not. I know you and Maddox are you and Maddox. But if you want there to be a you and me—which, by the way, we haven’t even discussed because you came in here, guns a’blazing . . .” I look over at the untouched coffee sitting on the nightstand and wonder how this morning spiraled so quickly. “Not that I thought we needed to have that conversation this morning, or today . . . or at least before you let me drink my coffee. Whatever. What I’m saying is I’m not backing down to him for once in my life. And I swear to God, if you do, you’re wasting your breath because I won’t be here when you’re done.”

The alarm on my phone goes off, and I have to hunt through our piles of clothes to find it.

“Shit. I’ve got a meeting this morning I can’t miss.”

I refuse to admit the pain I’m feeling in my chest is my heart cracking in two and look at Callen from across the room. “I’ve got to get showered and get moving. Ball’s in your court, Callen. What are you going to do with it? Run or score?”

“I love when you fuck up football, kitten.” He wraps his hands around my head and pulls me to him. “They’re back at the end of this week. I’ve got to talk to him before that.”

Tears I refuse to let fall sting the backs of my eyes.

I think he just picked me.

Over my brother . . .

Callen has never done that.

I feel my lip wobble as that simple fact sinks in.

“Need a ride to work?”

I shake my head, unwilling to give up this fleeting connection. “Jude will be waiting for me.”

“Tell your bodyguard I’ll drop you off. I’m meeting my trainer at Crucible. I’ll be right there.”

Killian’s dad expanded what used to exclusively be an MMA gym but now caters to elite athletes as well. Makes sense since our town is overflowing with them.

“You don’t have to . . .”

He presses his lips to my forehead. “You might be able to tell everyone else in your life what to do, but that shit doesn’t work on me. Now get showered, get dressed, and get your sweet ass in the truck.”

He smacks my ass, and I squeal and take a step forward before changing my mind and grabbing his hand. “Your shower’s pretty big, Sinclair.”

A devilish smile stretches across his handsome face. One I love seeing. It’s the same smile he’s always had when he gets a surprise. And today, I think that’s me. Not sure how he thought this morning would go, but I doubt it was like this.

“It is awfully big, isn’t it?” Callen reaches behind his head and pulls his shirt off, then runs his hands up my bare legs and under my shirt. Rough palms skim up my ribs and cup my breasts, and need pools deep in my belly. “How fast do I need to be, kitten?”

I look at the time, wishing I wasn’t presenting the sketches I worked on last night to Everly today. “You’ve got ten minutes. Fifteen if I don’t blow dry my hair. Think you can make it quick?”

Callen throws me over his shoulder and smacks my bare ass. “I can make you come at least twice in ten minutes.”

I hang upside down, laughing as he carries me into the bathroom, and run my hand under the waistband of his basketball shorts to pinch his ass.

“Promises, promises . . .”

Turns out he can make me come three times in ten minutes.

Leo

Hey. I need clothes.

Caitlin

You need a whole wardrobe makeover. What’s your point?

Leo

You made Nixon look good. Think you can help me?

Caitlin

Use your words, Leo. What are you asking?

Leo

I need a stylist. I’m not getting the endorsement deals I want even though I had one of the highest scoring averages in the league last season. My agent says it’s because I don’t dress well enough. His exact words were I don’t look put together.

Caitlin

I mean you look put together if frat boy is the look you’re going for. But if you want to look classy and understated—like you’re not trying but just are . . . Yeah. I can help you.

Leo

You’re a lifesaver, Caitie.

Caitlin

Call me Caitie again and I’ll leak the picture of you making out with that blow-up doll in college to the Kroydon Kronicles.

Leo

Cold as ice, Caitlin.

Caitlin

And don’t you forget it, Leo.

I put my phone down as my mother sits across from me in Sweet Temptations.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, sweetheart?” She pushes one of her famous chocolate chip cookies across the table and slides it next to the espresso pick-me-up I needed by three this afternoon.

I break a piece of cookie off and dip it in my espresso, just to see her grimace like I’ve just committed a crime against humanity. “I’m working on designs for Lilah’s upcoming tour and didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Not a complete lie.

I was working on the designs . . . well, before Callen came home.

Mom moves the napkin with my cookie away. “Uh-uh. I know my daughter, and that smile was not excitement over designs. That smile was for a man.”

She reaches for my espresso, but I lift it out of reach and refuse to answer.

How can I when I don’t even know what I’d say.

It’s obvious she doesn’t believe me as she breaks off a piece of the cookie. “Whatever you say. Did you have a nice birthday weekend?”

“Mom, it’s not like I didn’t spend Friday night with you and Dad and the boys.” I eye the cookie and wonder if I can take her. Ha. Kidding. Sort of. My mom is a badass with a capital B. You’d have to be to be my father’s wife.

Speak of the devils, and they shall appear.

Rome and Lucky walk into the shop, so completely involved in whatever bullshit they’re spewing, they don’t even notice Mom and me sitting in the corner until they walk over to the counter and both start hitting on my friend Quinlan when she gets their coffees, then points toward Mom and me. I watch her eyes roll as my brothers make their way over to us and don’t bother hiding my laugh.

“You know she’s way out of your league,” I tell the two of them as they take turns kissing my mother’s cheek so she doesn’t lecture them where they stand. The Beneventi boys, Maddox included, can be and are cocky shits most of the time, but they will never disrespect our mom.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, kit cat,” Rome challenges me because he knows I won’t start shit over the stupid nickname in front of Mom. “I promised Nonna I’d pick her up some biscotti today. Her hands are bothering her, and she didn’t want to make them herself. You got any, Ma?”

“Stop hitting on my employees, and I’ll get you whatever you want,” she tells him as she gets up before she stops and looks at me. “We’ll pick up this conversation soon, principessa.”

Rome follows Mom back to the counter, and Lucky steals her seat and pops the rest of the half-eaten cookie into his mouth, then looks back at Quinlan. “She wants me.”

I laugh. “You think everyone wants you.”

He shrugs. “They do. No girl can resist the bad boy.”

My dumbass littlest brother smirks, and I think I throw up in my mouth a little. “You’re disgusting.”

“Also true. You coming to the Kings game this week?”

Our family has two boxes at the stadium. One is the official owners’ suite. If you’re in there, you better be prepared to be working. You’re on the whole time and better behave like it. The other one is the family box. Family and friends only. No cameras allowed. As much as I like to tease Callen about football, I grew up in that suite as much as I did in his family’s suite. Our moms were always together. Even at the games. I know football. I don’t necessarily love the game, but I do love the team. Then there’s Callen . . .

“I’m not sure. It’s just a preseason game.” I choose my words carefully. My brothers maybe manwhore dipshits, but they’re also bloodhounds and Beneventis. They can smell bullshit a mile away, and I’m not ready for them to get a whiff of anything just yet. It’s Tuesday, and Maddox and Killian come home Friday night. That only gives me three days and three nights to figure my shit out.

Guess it’s going to have to be enough.