Kill me now, why don’t ya.
At least friends is a step in the right direction, I suppose, so I try to remind myself it’s progress. Still, I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t say what I say next. “For now.” I level Jimi with a dark stare. “Presley knows my intentions.” I shoot her a cocky grin. “And she won’t be able to resist my charms for much longer.”
She wrenches her hand from mine, pursing her lips and glaring at me. “You were doing so well until you opened your mouth.”
“He only wants you for one thing, and the second he gets, it he’ll lose all interest,” the nerd says, and he’s transparent as fuck.
“You don’t know anything about me,” I coolly retort, “and you don’t get to disrespect Presley like that.” I smother a laugh when he puts his chest all up in mine, pretending like he could take me. As if. I bench press more than his body weight without breaking a sweat.
“I know a self-righteous prick when I see one,” he hisses.
“Desperation is not a good look on you, man. And you reek of it.” I grin, because it’s comical this guy thinks he’s my competition.
“Okay. Enough.” Presley pushes in between us, forcing us both back. “This isn’t a pissing contest.” She smiles at Jimi, but it’s full of sympathy, and no dude ever wants to be on the receiving end of one of those smiles.
Crash and burn, asshole. I fix him with a smug smile from behind her back. Sucks to be you, dude.
“I’ll see you next week, Jimi.”
“Fuck you, Presley,” he snaps, pushing past her. “I’m done.”
Thank fuck for that. Good riddance to the jerk. “Wow. What a charmer he turned out to be.”
Presley presses her lips together, watching his retreating back with a slight frown. “I thought I set him straight last week. He knows I’m not interested in him like that.”
I knew she wouldn’t be. Call me cocky, but I see the way she looks at me, and that twerp could never match up. “I think he got the memo now.”
Reaching for Presley’s hand, I wrap my larger palm around her smaller, softer one. A weird fluttery feeling descends in my chest the second her skin makes contact with mine, accompanied by a rake of little shivers cascading up and down my arm. She startles a little, so I’m guessing she felt that jolt of electricity too. Her eyes lower to our conjoined hands as her fingers press more firmly against mine. Her gaze is a mix of confused awe when she lifts her head, and her eyes lock on mine.
Makes two of us, babe. I’ve no clue what kind of freaky cosmic energy is at work here, but this mad chemistry we share is not unwelcome or unpleasant. We stare at each other, our hands interlocked, and in the depths of her warm brown eyes lies so much hidden meaning and so much potential. Fear threatens to resurface, but I tamp it down, pulling her in next to me. Closing my eyes, I press a soft kiss to her temple, inhaling the vanilla scent wafting from her hair, reveling in the feel of her velvety-soft skin under my lips. “Ready to get out of here?” My voice is thick with longing.
“Yes,” she whispers, and when I open my eyes, I’m pleased to see hers are shut too. I hope it means she’s committing me to memory in the same way I’m memorizing her.
We walk in silence across the road, turning the block to reach my car. I put the box with her art supplies on the back seat of my BMW X5 before opening the passenger side door for her.
“Nice car,” she says, glancing all around as I slide behind the wheel.
“Thanks.” The engine purrs as I power her up. “My brother Keven drives one of these, and he recommended it.” I glide out into the traffic, casting a quick glance at her. “Are you hungry? Do you want to grab something to eat before your shift?”
“I don’t have time.”
“We could grab something from a food truck. Are there any on the way?” I’m not familiar with Mattapan because I usually Uber it to the bar and back.
“We could stop at the burrito bar. It’s around the block from Ramshackle.”
“Okay, perfect.” I tap it into my GPS system, and we pull up in front of the silver trailer a few minutes later.
Climbing out of the car, I race around the hood in time to open Presley’s door for her.
“Thank you.” Her smile seems genuine as I help her out, and I tuck it away on my mental notepad for future reference.
“What’s good?” I ask as we survey the menu.
“Everything. The chicken burrito is my favorite though.”
We stand in line, and I clear my throat. “Why did you return my gift? Did I buy the wrong things?” I’ll admit I know jack shit about art, but the lady in the store said every artist worth their salt wants a Caran d’Ache set.
She shakes her head, and waves of her dark, glossy hair tumble invitingly over her shoulders.
She has fabulous hair.
Plenty I can wrap around my fist, using it to yank her head back as I take her from behind. My dick stirs to life behind my zipper, and I force all thoughts of a naked Presley from my mind before I’m sprouting a full boner. Not gonna lie. I’m dying to get this woman underneath me. But it’s more than that. And I don’t want to fuck it up by letting my hormones overrule my head.
“It’s a perfect gift, Kent. But I can’t accept it.”
“Why the fuck not?” My brow puckers as we shuffle forward in the line.
“That stuff is super expensive. I can’t let you spend that much money on me.”
I peer into her eyes, searching for evidence of the truth, and it’s blatantly staring back at me. She actually means that.
This might be the moment I truly fall for this woman.
“What if I want to spend it on you and it will hurt me if you continue to refuse it?”
“That doesn’t make it right.” She tucks her hair behind her ears, and I want to be the one to do that.
I lightly touch her elbow as we move one step closer to the front of the line. “It’s a gift, Pres.” My eyes flit momentarily to her lush mouth, and I want to kiss her so badly. My dick strains against my zipper again, and I force myself to focus on the conversation, not her tempting as fuck lips. “I saw the way you looked at the box. I know you want it. Accept it. It would make me happy if you do.”
She stares at me, her eyes roaming my face, her gaze lingering on my lips a little longer, in a way that pleases me. “Why are you doing all this?” Her breathy, raspy tone unravels me, and my cock is rock solid now.
“You know why. I want to spend time with you.” Swallowing a bout of nerves, I put myself on the line. “We have a connection. There’s something there, and I want to explore it. I know you think I’m a manwhore, but—”
Her lips tilt in amusement, cutting me off mid-sentence.
Dragging a hand through my hair, I expel air from my mouth. There’s no point denying this. The proof is plastered across the web. “Okay, I am a manwhore. A reformed one, because I haven’t so much as looked at another girl from the minute I met you. I won’t pretend I don’t want to fuck you, because you’re beautiful and sexy, but it’s more than that, and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I want this to be different with you.”
That might possibly be the longest, most genuine speech I’ve ever made, and this girl now holds my heart in her hands. As well as my balls, because I’m in scary danger of losing those too.
She opens her mouth to reply when the guy behind the counter shouts, “Next.”
I glare at him, because his timing fucking sucks, and I’ve a sudden desire to swing my fist in his face, but I restrain myself. I order two chicken burritos and two bottles of water, and we take them back to the car.
“This is so good,” I say in between mouthfuls of the succulent, spicy chicken wrap.
“Told ya.” She smiles before diving in with gusto.
Even her appetite for food turns me on.
I’ve got serious issues.
She hasn’t made any reference to my little speech, and I’m too chicken shit to bring it up, so I say nothing, switching the radio on so
we can listen to music as we eat. But it’s not awkward. There’s a certain level of familiarity with Presley that comes naturally, and I’m relaxed in her company in a way I rarely am with women.
Balling up her wrapper, she shoves it into the paper bag before taking my empty water bottle and wrapper and dumping it inside. Her fingers brush against mine, igniting the same fiery tingles like every time our skin comes into contact. Her touch literally electrifies me, and it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced.
“Tuesday night,” she says, turning in the passenger seat to face me.
“What?” I splutter, confused.
She graces me with a knockout smile. “I’m free Tuesday night.”
“You’ll go out with me?” I’m sure I’m rocking the whole deer in the headlights look, because I can’t believe she’s agreed. I thought I’d have to grovel for much longer than this.
Guess I’m just that good at this wooing shit.
I give myself a proverbial pat on the back.
“I will. One date,” she cautions.
“And you’ll accept my gift,” I add, throwing my gaze to the box in the back.
“I will but, Kent.” She leans in closer, and I stop breathing. Her mouth is so close to mine it would take nothing to close the gap and slam my lips against hers. But I summon restraint from some long-forgotten place inside me, using all my willpower to focus on her gorgeous eyes. “You don’t need to buy me expensive gifts. Little gestures work just as effectively. Like your notes.”
“You like them?” I can’t contain the grin on my face.
“I do.” She’s fighting a smile. “I like how it gives me a little insight in to you.” Her eyes drift to my mouth, and I know she wants to kiss me as much as I want to kiss her, but I hold back because I won’t fuck this up.
“Then I have something else for you,” I admit, stretching across her to reach for the glove compartment. My arm brushes across her chest, sending a fresh wave of blood south to my dick. This woman lights a flame inside me every time we touch, and I know when we finally get down and dirty it’s going to be fucking explosive.
It’s possible I might die of blue balls before then.
Nerves fire at me from all sides as I remove the dog-eared book from the glove compartment. This is a risk, but go big or go home, am I right? I hold the book to my chest. “Do you read?”
“A little. I don’t have a huge amount of downtime, and when I do, I usually draw, but I try to read a book or two a month.”
“This is one of my favorite books.” I run my fingers over the worn cover of All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven. “I discovered it when I was younger and I was going through some stuff. I think the message is powerful.” I hand it to her, adding, “I want to know you, but I want you to know me too because I’m not just the things they say about me online. Read it and let me know what you think.”
Flipping it over, she reads the description on the back, and I take a few moments to study her.
She’s exquisite, but I can tell she doesn’t realize it. She doesn’t wear much makeup or use a ton of product in her hair. She dresses edgy but always with comfort in mind, and she looks like someone who is content in her skin. I’m dying to know what the ink on her lower arms means and to explore the other tattoos she’s hiding underneath her clothes. She looks good in my car, and I know she’ll look good in my arms, and I truly, honestly, sincerely want to see where this leads.
Because Presley is the first good thing to happen to me in years.
And I really don’t want to fuck it all up.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Kent
I stop by the toy store on my way to Eva and Kaden’s house the following night, picking up the latest princess doll for my niece Milly and a bunch of superhero figures for her brother Matthew. On the spur of the moment, I pick up a bottle of wine and some chocolates for my sister-in-law.
I didn’t announce I was dropping by, but I’m expecting Eva to be in because their kids are both under five and I know Kade is out in the city drinking with my other brothers tonight. I got the invite but passed because I know the hot topic of conversation will be Keats and Austen’s June wedding, and I want no part of that shit.
After tapping the code into the keypad by the gate, I drive up the winding driveway to my brother’s plush family home. The security system will have notified Eva of an impending visitor, so I’m not surprised to see her waiting at the front door for me. I park the car in front of the house and hop out, grabbing the bags from the back seat.
“This is a nice surprise,” Eva says, giving me a one-sided hug as I stand awkwardly in her doorway.
“I need to talk to you about something,” I admit when she releases me, stepping aside to let me in.
“Kade isn’t here.” She closes the front door, following me down the hallway and into their open living area.
“I know. I came to talk to you.” I shove the bags at her. “Where are the rugrats?”
“Asleep.” She places the bags on the large island unit in the kitchen, peering inside. “Oh my God. Milly is going to love you forever for this,” she exclaims, removing the box with the doll. “She’s been begging us for this, but Kade told her she had to wait until her birthday.”
I poke my head in the fridge, grabbing a beer. “Great. Now he’ll have extra ammunition to rip me a new one.”
Kaden is my eldest brother, and he’s been the most vocal about the rift in our family, squarely laying the blame at my door. He doesn’t waste any opportunity to berate me, and I’m fucking sick of him sticking his nose where it’s not wanted. It’s the other reason I came here tonight; I knew there was no chance of running into him.
“Kade worries about you, Kent,” Eva says, extracting the wine and the chocolates from the bag. She kisses my cheek, smiling warmly at me. “This was thoughtful. Thank you.”
I shrug, not wanting to make a big deal out of it.
I pop the cap on my beer and grab a wine glass from the overhead cupboard for my sister-in-law. She pours a healthy amount of ruby-red wine into the glass, and I arch a brow.
She slaps my arm, laughing. “Stop looking at me like I’m a lush. It’s been a tough week.”
“Trouble with my brother?” I inquire as we walk into the living area, claiming seats at opposite ends of the gray leather couch.
“Of course not.” Her face lights up at the mention of Kaden, and I wonder if Presley will someday look like that when someone mentions me.
I silently scoff. As if I could ever warrant that kind of lovesick affection. I must be short a few brain cells for my mind to have gone there. I’m under no illusions about this thing with Presley. I mean, it’s a miracle I feel this way about her because no other woman has ever elicited the same response, and I know that’s huge. While there is a strong part of me that wants things to work out with her, I’m self-aware enough to know I will fuck it up because I always do.
I’ve done a lot of thinking in the last twenty-four hours and hoping and praying I don’t fuck things up is a futile strategy. I’ve got to face the facts. Nothing good ever lasts in my life because I have a self-detonation button I can’t help pressing. I will fuck things up with her, so I’m better off entering into it with my eyes wide-open. That way, I can enjoy whatever time we have together and when it ends up in ruins at least I’ll be expecting it.
“Kent.” Eva peers into my face, her expression etched with concern. “Where’d you go?”
“Sorry. I wandered off. What were you saying?”
“Things are great with Kade and the kids, but the stress and pressure of work is getting to both of us. There is always so much to do and not enough hours in the day.”
I slouch back in the chair, resting my ankle on my knee as I get comfortable. “Hire more staff, and didn’t McConaughey take on more responsibility recently?” I remember Red, his wife, mentioning something about Brad becoming a director or some shit. I tend to tune out when Rachel waxes lyrical about her husband.
>
Brad is like a surrogate Kennedy, having lived with my family for several years when his family fled overseas. He’s best friends with my brother Kyler, and Rachel is Faye’s best friend. Both women are from Ireland, but they’ve been living here for years.
“Brad is our global sales director, and he’s doing a lot of the heavy lifting and most of the international travel, but we can’t keep pulling him away from Rachel and Elodie. She’s not even two, and she needs her daddy.”
“Again, hire more staff. The business can afford it, right?” The last I heard, Eva and Kade’s online golf business was booming, hence the expansion into Europe.
“I know you’re right, but even finding the time to recruit someone is challenging.”
“Outsource it to a recruitment agency. I bet Faye could recommend someone.” Faye, Kyler’s wife, works part-time as head of human resources for my mom’s interior design company. Mom’s business partner is Brad’s mom, and they hold an equal share in the thriving interior design company. Faye shares the HR role with another woman, because she didn’t want to go back to working full-time after the twins were born.
Or so Mom says, because I haven’t talked to Kyler or Faye much since Ciara and Cathal arrived on the scene. A pang of guilt sweeps through me, and I know I’ve got to make more of an effort with my family. If they all agreed to not discuss Keats, it would be easier, but my family is a bunch of busybodies, and they won’t rest until they have fixed things between me and my triplet.
There’s more chance of Kanye being president than things getting resolved with Keaton.
“You’re full of good ideas tonight,” Eva muses, running the tip of her finger around the top of her wineglass. “We should talk more often.”
I roll my eyes, and Eva laughs, kicking off her shoes and tucking her long, slim, olive-toned legs into her chest. My sister-in-law is a beautiful woman, and Kade is a lucky guy because she’s also super smart and she has a big heart. All my brothers chose well, but I’m only close with Eva and Selena because none of the others understand me.
Reforming Kent: A Stand-Alone Angsty Bad Boy Romance (The Kennedy Boys Book 10) Page 6