Todos los capítulos de Wrong Train, Right Trouble: Capítulo 21 - Capítulo 30

He brought his forehead to mine, a question lingering in his voice. “Is that you asking me, or telling me?”“Considering you’re more likely to say no if it’s a question… I’m telling you.”A low groan escaped him, but he stepped back without further protest.“I meant to say the other night—you look ridiculously good in glasses. Especially when you wore them to Tig’s.”“I’ll go ahead and toss my contacts, then.”I made my way over to his desk, finally getting a chance to take in the space. It was striking—floor-to-ceiling windows framed two sides of the room, revealing the Manhattan skyline in all its gleaming majesty. A stately mahogany desk sat angled toward one glass wall, imposing yet elegant. Two sleek computer monitors stood side by side, surrounded by scattered case files and open stacks of documents. Everything about the space spoke of power and chaos existing in harmony.“Your office is incredible. But clearly, you’re knee-deep in work. I won’t take up too much of your time—I j

I hoisted Blackie over my head and gave him a serious look. “Tell me the truth, buddy. It’d be wrong of me to dig through Christian’s drawer, wouldn’t it?”In response, his tongue lolled out and he gave my nose a big slobbery lick.“I’ll take that as confirmation.”The walk-in closet felt far more like Christian Merrick than any other room I’d seen. Along one wall, suits hung neatly—nearly all dark colors. The opposite side was overwhelmed by a ridiculous number of crisp, collared dress shirts. Every inch of space was orderly, color-coded even.Predictable. And dull.I made my way back into the bedroom, eyes instantly drifting to the nightstand like it was daring me. That drawer was calling to me. Tempting me. One little peek couldn’t hurt, right? I gave Blackie a slow pet while still holding him. He let out a low rumble. Do dogs purr? That definitely sounded like a purr. If purring translated to a yes in human terms…then I had my answer.Just one look. I won’t even shift anything aro

“I see. Are you trying to enlist my help, Mr. Merrick?”“Unless you’re aiming for a submissive tone, I’d rather you didn’t call me that,” I said, my gaze trailing over her. “Unless, of course, you’d like me to bend you over my knee right now. We could easily shift gears into that kind of dynamic.” My attention slipped to her parted lips, and just like that, I lost my train of thought. “Christ, I want your mouth around me right now.”Lena shifted where she sat, her body language betraying the impact of my words. “Is that so?”“It is. And I want to go down on you. Let’s call it emotional self-soothing, if you like.”Her laughter rang out, unfiltered.“You’re amused. Good. Because I’m seconds from diving under that dress.”“We can’t. We’ll be pulling into the funeral home any minute now.”My voice dropped, thick with need, as my fingers slid beneath the hem of her dress and traced the inside of her thigh. “Unless we make a mutual decision to be late.”“You’re actually serious right now?”

CHRISTIAN HAD MADE UP HIS MIND—he wasn’t going to approach Genevieve until their scheduled meeting on Friday. He thought it best to let her have the space to lay Liam to rest before diving into the confrontation about Chloe. I believed, too, that he needed time—to mentally brace for what might come and to better understand his legal standing. On top of that, work was overwhelming; he was still deep in plans for acquiring Liam’s company.As for me, I’d concluded that a few nights apart would be smart, given everything that was going on. Much to his disappointment, I made sure to line up back-to-back evenings with Tig and Delia, and told him I’d be staying at my place.The truth? No grand plans—just loitering at the tattoo shop. I desperately needed their perspectives on all of this.They were stunned.Delia was carefully lining up her sterilized piercing needles when she said, “This sounds like something out of a soap opera.”I had to clamp down on my tongue. They had no idea just how

What in the world was I doing? It had been eight years since I last saw him. For all I knew, he might not even be living in Queens anymore. As I stepped off at the Sixty-First Street Station, a train heading north pulled into the platform opposite mine. I looked across and found myself contemplating whether I should just get back on and return to where I’d come from. I stood there mulling it over for so long that people started weaving around me as the train came and then slowly disappeared from sight.His place was only about eight blocks from the station. By the time I reached the third block, my phone buzzed in my pocket, and Christian Merrick’s name lit up on the screen. I hesitated over the DECLINE button, my thumb hovering. But then I remembered what I’d told him the night before—I said I would be there for him. I promised not to keep dodging him.“Hey,” I said, answering the call.“Hey, beautiful. How was your day?” he asked.I was standing at a crosswalk, waiting for the signa