Love Triangle Six Books of Torn Desire - Willow Winters Page 0,233

looks at Tess meaningfully, and she nods as if she promises she’ll keep the secret, too.

I wander over to Brian’s dresser. The top is clear, devoid of any sort of meaningful picture or mementos. It could be because of this party—he might’ve put everything away in case a guest should wander in here much the same way Jill, Tess, and I did. Or there could be layers I haven’t even begun to discover about him yet. What if he’s devoid of emotion—devoid of human connection?

I can’t believe that to be true after the way he kissed me and made love to me right after he told me he loves me.

“Yeah,” I murmur, running my finger along the dresser’s smooth, wooden surface. “I guess.”

“I’m not even sure I trust Becker anymore. How could he keep this huge secret from me?”

I turn around and face her. “After what happened with Adam, I don’t blame you.”

“It starts with one,” she says, holding up one finger. “One lie. One omission.”

“But you’re telling me it’s okay for me to omit information?”

She smiles wryly. “I guess it’s a double standard, huh?”

“I sort of get it. The omission on their part. I get leaving out the fact that they’re living with Mark Ashton. I get Brian not mentioning it.”

“Why?” Jill asks.

“Because he’s Mark fucking Ashton. How many people in their pasts do you think have used them to get to him? How many times do you think they’ve been burned because they were close to him? And now they’re living with him.”

The door opens, and all our heads swing over to see who’s about to step through it. I expect it to be Brian or Becker—or even Jason, or some combination of the three of them, but to my utter shock, it’s none of them.

It’s Mark.

He looks delicious tonight, decadent in a black t-shirt and black jeans. Day-old stubble outlines a strong jawline. His green eyes fall on me, blistering and burning as he pins me to my spot, and I can’t believe I didn’t see the resemblance between brothers before.

The shame I felt from that night is completely gone. In its wake is a new layer—a layer of need and desire, of longing for this man who somehow drew me in and connected with me on a level I didn’t even know existed.

I wish I could read what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. His face is a mask, though. I suppose it makes sense that he’s had to train himself to hide whatever’s going on inside him when he’s on stage, and of course that would extend to his personal life.

Tess starts to shriek that Mark Ashton is in the same room as us, but then he throws the door closed behind him, and it shuts with a loud slam.

Her mouth shuts when she sees the ferocity in his eyes. He strides across the room toward me, and I stumble back a bit at the intensity. I bump into the dresser. He’s too far away from me, not close enough to reach, but I have the sudden, inexplicable urge to rush into his arms.

I let out a gasp. My hands tremble and my heart pounds.

I’m sure Jill and Tess are staring at us in the periphery, but my gaze is focused on the rock star.

“I never expected to see you here,” he says, his voice low as he ignores the fact that there are other people in the room apart from the two of us. “Least of all with my brother.”

The door flies open. Brian’s eyes flash with anger. “There you are,” he says to me, his eyes cooling just the tiniest bit as they land on me. All the anger is back, though, as he glances at his brother. “Here to steal my girl?” he asks. He’s clearly going for a teasing tone, but he has no idea what happened between us. “There’s a couple of groupies waiting outside the door. Might be able to finally get that foursome you’ve always talked about.” He laughs after he says it, but he’s the only one laughing.

Mark blows out a breath and gives me one last long glance that goes unnoticed by Brian, who has made his way over to me and thrown a possessive arm around my shoulders. Jill and Tess stand silently across the room from me, two sets of eyes staring widely at me. Mark disappears out the door.

“We should, um, leave you two alone,” she says. “Come on, Tess.” I throw a pleading