Law laid himself out for her, as open to her as she was to them. He offered himself to her. Kinley couldn’t wait to take him.
With a shaking hand, she reached out to touch him, sighing as she wrapped her fingers around his velvety yet hard shaft. But more, she felt the connection between them with just that one touch.
With hot, hooded eyes, Dominic watched them.
And Kinley felt as if she’d finally found her place.
* * * *
Riley took a long swig of Scotch. Nothing was going to make him sleep tonight. Summer nights in Alaska were brutally short, but it wasn’t the lack of darkness keeping him in the kitchen now. It was the fact that if he wanted to get to bed, he would have to walk right past Kinley’s room where Law and Dominic were undoubtedly relieving her of her virginity right this freaking second.
No, he didn’t want to walk by and overhear that…and know he could be in there. His brothers were claiming her, no doubt. They were going to fall in love. While it lasted, he’d be left out in the cold.
What the fuck was he going to do?
Sometimes he felt like Dominic was completely content to just wander through life, while Law was looking for the fantasy that didn’t exist. Riley wasn’t sure what to do, but he knew he wanted more than one casual fuck after another. He wanted a family. He wanted kids to shelter and protect, who never had to endure the poverty and desperation he had growing up. He wanted to make up for everything he’d lost out on by giving his own children a great life.
Riley flicked on his computer and turned to one of the news feeds. His system was fully set up to catch the news channels from Black Oak’s satellite system. The feed wasn’t as clear here as it would be inside the work compound, but it was enough to keep Riley in the loop.
But having the news drone on in the background didn’t distract him. Why the hell couldn’t he let go of the crushing, wretched feeling of rejection Simone had handed him years ago?
Until her, no one had ever hurt him. He’d never given anyone that power. But the first time he’d tried to open up and trust, the one time he’d come really close to getting what he wanted, she’d cruelly slammed the door in his face.
Simone had been well educated. She’d seemed so free and open. He’d decided it was time to take the next step, and she’d been right there. Dominic liked her, and since Law never really liked much of anyone, Riley was content that his brother seemed able to put up with her.
He’d even picked out a house for all of them to live in.
But she’d laughed as she’d said “no.” Riley had figured out in that moment that no woman would willingly tackle society’s opinions to be with them. Dominic had tried to let him go his own way with no fuss, and Riley knew he stood a better chance of having the future he sought if he took a woman of his own. Deep down, that wasn’t what he wanted, but he’d been trying to resign himself anyway.
And then Kinley waltzed in with her damn chocolate-colored eyes and those bouncy honey curls he wanted to sink his fingers into. If he had a redo, he’d be in her room right now, fucking the living hell out of her…except for one small problem.
Kinley was the kind of woman men fought wars for and sang songs to. And there was no way that woman married three men.
No.
Fucking.
Way.
She was too good, too sweet, too kind. She’d made it her life mission to help the damn poor, for god’s sake. He would fall for her in a way he’d never fallen for Simone, and inevitably she would either laugh in his face when he asked her to marry him or crumble the first time some society bitch or a tabloid called her a whore for having three men. Either way, she’d be gone.
At most, she would probably really want Dominic because they came from the same world. Or she would only want Law because he had that brooding quality that made a lot of women want to fix him. Why the hell would she want him?
A flash of color caught his eye, and he turned the sound up. Shit. There she was, on the news. A picture of Kinley dominated the screen with a headline underneath: Runaway Bride or Victim? He turned up the volume.
Socialite Kinley Kohl remains in the news as we enter the third day following her disappearance from her wedding in New York to controversial shipping tycoon Greg Jansen. The entire scandal is made even more mysterious by lawyer Kellan Kent’s claim that he is representing the man seen taking Ms. Kohl away with his unknown associate. This program has positively identified the man as Law Anders, a former Special Forces soldier who is being sought for questioning in the alleged kidnapping.
Riley groaned. Well, the cat was sure as fuck out of the bag now. And he was a little miffed that he’d been demoted to “unknown associate.”
“Ms. Kohl is not a victim of anything but love.” Kellan flashed a wry, likely practiced smile for the cameras. “My client rescued his lover from a marriage she didn’t want. Kinley Kohl was afraid of telling Greg Jansen she refused to marry him, and I think there is ample evidence that she was right to do so. His first wife died under mysterious circumstances, and that is all I’ll say about that. When Kinley is ready, she’ll contact her family, but for now she is in seclusion. My client would appreciate it if you would respect their privacy at this time.”
It was a good play, but without Kinley to support the story herself, it would only work for a day or two. Then, no matter how much they tried to hide her location, the authorities would hunt them down or Jansen would ferret it out. Then he would either try to kill her or take her back.
Speak of the devil. Jansen’s face popped on screen. It was obviously a previously taped interview. He stared at the camera and poured out his staged plea. “Kinley, darling, if you’re out there and you can hear me, your father, your sister, and I just want you home. If there’s any way to escape, please do it. As to the men who took my wife—sorry, I think of her as my wife—I will pay any ransom. Just send me a sign of life. Send me back her luggage to prove you actually have her. Please. I’ll give you money just for that one little sign.”
Riley paused the feed. Luggage wasn’t proof of life. Jansen knew the way this whole thing worked. So what the fuck was he talking about? Proof of life was actual physical evidence that the person was alive at a certain time. He should be asking for a tape of Kinley talking while holding up today’s paper or a phone call that included actual vocal contact.
But no. Jansen wanted her luggage. Again.
Riley didn’t understand. He’d been through all of her belongings at least ten times. She didn’t have a laptop here, so he had no way to search that. The only things on her tablet were games and books and a ton of pictures.
What was he looking for? What was more important about that luggage than Kinley herself returning home? It had to be something if Jansen was willing to pay for her luggage.
Which meant that, more than likely, Kinley herself couldn’t help them.
Time was running out. He needed connections.