Holiday Loves
Page 30
"Yes, you do."
I clear my throat. How can he see into my head that easily? I miss my parents so much. It's been almost a month now. Ever since I finished summer school, the days have felt long and empty. Emma goes to her internship. Brendon is at work. When I'm not at my part-time job, I feel alone.
His eyes fix on me. "You're a sweet girl. Casual sex won't make you happy."
"How do you know?"
"I've known you since you were five. I know you."
I shake my head, but I can't argue. Brendon does know me. The only person who knows me better is Emma.
"Do you want to fuck a stranger?" he asks.
"Maybe. I'm still thinking. If you know me that well, you know it takes me a while to make up my mind."
He moves closer. He moves close enough to kiss me.
He doesn't.
Instead, he leans in, brings his lips to my ear, and whispers, "You deserve better than a sloppy fuck. You deserve sex with a man fixed on your pleasure. You deserve to scream a guy's name as you rake your nails across his back, because in that moment, he's your entire universe and you're his."
"That's a very romantic sentiment."
He shakes his head. "That's good sex." He runs his fingers down my arm and over the back of my hand. "I'm not going to watch you fuck some guy who will throw you away in the morning."
"I wasn't planning on inviting you."
He pulls back enough to look me in the eyes. "You want to enjoy your first time?"
I nod.
"Then fuck me."
* * *
I exhale every bit of breath in my body at once.
Then fuck me.
I take a slow inhale, but it does nothing to clear my head. It certainly isn't helping with the heat running down my limbs.
Brendon is offering to have sex with me.
I try to stare back at him but my gaze refuses to budge from his tattooed chest. Fuck, my cheeks are burning. My chest is burning.
This has to be a joke.
Brendon doesn't want to have sex with me.
Brendon is nearly ten years older than me.
He's my friend. My second closest friend.
There's no way…
"I don't need your pity sex," I say.
"You really think I offer anyone anything out of pity?"
No, I don't. "Then why are you offering?"
"Because I want to fuck you, Kaylee." He drags his fingertips back up my arm. "I want to show you what good sex feels like."
I swallow hard. I very much want him to show me what good sex feels like.
But he's my friend.
He's Emma's brother.
And Emma will flip if she finds out.
This could lose me the two most important people in my life.
My body screams yes, now, stop making excuses.
My head is more apprehensive.
I swallow hard.
Emma's door opens. Her bouncy steps move through the hallway. "Your boobs are bigger than mine, but I think you'll still fit into this dress. As long as you skip the bra."
Brendon takes a step backwards. I expect the nerves in my chest to subside. They don't. If anything, they're crashing into each other.
His eye meet mine. His voice is still that even tone. "It's up to you, Kaylee."
Emma bounces into the kitchen, holding up a sparkly silver dress like it's a trophy. "Perfect, huh?"
Short, tight, and low-cut, so, yes, perfect for her aim of getting laid. "Perfect. Are we going to Stan's place or to a… another place?"
She motions to Brendon with a not so much about those details look.
He stares. "If I find a fake ID, I'm cutting it in half."
"Got it." Emma grabs my hand and pulls me towards the stairs. She nods goodbye to her brother. "We'll be home late."
"Don't you have your internship tomorrow?" he asks.
Emma groans. "Shit. I have to be there at eight." She turns to me. "Okay, we'll be out until Kaylee… until Kaylee is satisfied with the evening."
Brendon shoots me a knowing look as he heads for the shower. "Think about what I said."
"I will." In fact, I'm pretty sure it's all I'm going to think about.
"What did he say?" Emma asks.
"The usual."
She nods. "He can be really overprotective."
And I'm starting to see how that can be appealing.
* * *
The date is awful. Stanley is boring. Daniel is handsy. The apartment smells like pot and dog hair.
I want to be gone, immediately.
Thankfully, Emma understands my let's get out of here hand gesture.
Tragically, she insists on stopping by a bar, to find another cute guy.
Two hours later, we're nestled in a Venice Beach dive bar. She's on her fifth rum and coke. I'm on my third.
"Oh, this is perfect." Emma puts on "Go Your Own Way" and sings along with Fleetwood Mac. She motions come here. When I don't, she throws her arms over her head, dancing with herself.
A group of tourists in the corner take notice. I'm not sure who looks more out of place—them, in their Disneyland t-shirts and fanny packs, or us in our club dresses and sky high heels. A quick glance around the dark, locals-only bar assures me that it's us.
"Kaylee, baby, come on." Emma grabs my hands and pulls me onto the floor with her.
It's not a dance floor, really, but I want to dance. Moving might move my thoughts. At the moment, they're all stuck together.
Does Brendon really want me?
Will he want me to submit to him?
Can I handle that?
Emma squeals with delight as she shakes her hips. She's a few drinks ahead of me, but that's not it. She's trying to show me a good time. She always does. She's always been the life of the party whereas I'm the more bookish, reserved one.
She's the bad girl.
I'm the good girl.
The one who doesn't get the bad boy.
Only Brendon does want me.
Fuck, no more thinking.
I throw my arms over my head and dance with Emma. It takes a few tries to get moving in time with the music but it feels good shifting my hips and shaking my ass. It's fun.
We pour another five into the jukebox and dance our way through another round of girl power pop songs. We're about ready to collapse when two of the tourists cut in.
"Mind if I pick the next one?" A tall blond tourist smiles at me.
"Go ahead," I say.
He puts on a country song I've never heard before. "You want to dance?"
Emma motions go for it. Then she's nudging me towards the guy.
Okay, fine, I'll dance. I slide my arms around his shoulders. He takes my hips. We move like we're at a high school dance. The song isn't bad. It has a nice beat and the singer does sound really miserable about the bitch of an ex who ran off with his best friend.
The tourist smiles a sweet, sincere smile. He's a nice guy. I'm sure he'd show me a nice time if I asked. I'm sure he'd take me back to his hotel room.
He's attractive—tall, tan, and handsome in an all-American kind of way.
When I close my eyes and think about pressing my lips to his, I feel nothing.
When I think about moving his hands under my dress, I feel cold instead of hot.
But when I think about Brendon… fuck, I'm already on fire. I think about his strong hands on my hips. I think about his steady voice in my ears. I think about his promise to get my eyes rolling back in my head.
His name would sound good on my lips.
Already, my heart is beating faster. Already, I'm flushed and wanting.
When the song breaks, I pull back. "Thank you." I nod goodbye to the all-American tourist and slide my arm around Emma. "No more boys tonight." No more boys, period.
I need a man.
I'm not sure about Brendon's offer, but I am sure that I'm not going to sleep with any random guys I meet tonight.
"You want to talk?" she asks.
"No, I want to dance."
She smiles. "I can work with that."
* * *
Around midnight, I help Emma out of our Uber and walk her to the door. She's sloppy about pulling her keys out of her purse and handing them to me.
Brendon is standing in the kitchen, in that same jeans and a t-shirt combo, stirring something on the stove.
He gives us a paternal once-over. "You want to get her to bed, or should I?"
"Depends on what you're cooking." I slide my arm around Emma's waist and kick the door closed. "I haven't eaten anything except chips and salsa all night."
"Shrimp stir-fry," he says.
"I'll help her." My mouth is already watering. But I'm more concerned with what happens after dinner than about eating.
I try to put it out of mind as I help Emma into bed.
She doesn't fight me about brushing her teeth, drinking a glass of water, and stripping to her underwear.
I pull her pajamas from her dresser and hand them over.
She tosses them aside. "It's too hot."
"I'm sleeping in the guest room if you don't put something on." It's not that I'm uptight. I just… Okay, I'm a little uptight. But my family isn't the hang out in your underwear type.
"You didn't threaten to go back to your apartment." She smiles.
She's got me there. At the moment, I very much want to be where Brendon is. "I don't have air conditioning."
"Or you love me that much." She blows me a kiss. "The guest room is comfy. Enjoy. I'll see you in the morning." She pulls me into a tight hug. "Or, I have my internship. So maybe I'll see you after that. Don't let Brendon give you shit, okay? He can get bossy and annoying but he means well. And he's always asking about you. He likes you."
"He likes me?"
"As a friend." Emma mumbles something incomprehensible then collapses in her bed, rolls over, and falls right to sleep.
I don't mind taking care of Emma, but it gets tiring being the responsible one. It gets tiring doing everything without help.
Sometimes, I want to throw my responsibilities away.
But every time I try to let something go, I get anxious. Nervous. I hold on tighter. Whether it's at the restaurant, at the school paper, or in my dorm, things don't get done unless I do them.
Okay, I like to be in control.
But the thought of losing control with Brendon…
Fuck, it's hot in here.
I try to stay calm as I make my way downstairs. He's standing in the kitchen all tall and broad and confident.
His dark eyes fix on mine. He motions to two plates on the counter. "Ready when you are."
I'm not sure if I'm ready for that. But I am ready to eat. "Sure." I take a seat at the table.
Brendon fills two glasses of water and sets them next to our plates. "How much did you have to drink?"
I shrug, playing coy.
"Bullshit."
"Four rum and diet cokes."
"Then you've had enough." He pushes my water glass closer.
"And you?" I nod to his water glass. At the moment, water is the only beverage on the table.
"I don't need to drink."
"I didn't mean that."
"I know." His gaze meets mine. "How was the date with Daniel?" His voice drops from that even tone.
Is he jealous?
The thought fills me with feminine power.
I can't help but smile.
He cocks a brow. "Yes?"
"Nothing." I take a bite of the stir-fry. It's perfect. The vegetables are crisp, the shrimp is tender, the rice is fluffy. "Thank you for cooking."
"Don't get all polite now."
"I'm always polite." I take another bite, chew, swallow. "If you know me, you know that."
His voice gets low. Frustrated, even. "Don't bullshit me now."
"I'm not following."
He stares back at me. "You're giving me a look."
"When you said Daniel." My tongue slides over my lips. His dark eyes are flaring with that same protective fire. "You're jealous."
"You didn't fuck him."
"Says who."
"Me."
"But why…" I take another bite. The food is great, but it doesn't help me figure out my response. "How do you know?"
"You don't look like a woman who's been properly fucked."
"And you know?"
"I know what satisfaction looks like."
I swallow hard. "I didn't. I… didn't like him at all. Then we went to a bar—"
His eyes flare. "I'll kill Em."
"She was trying to cheer me up. I've been… I've been a bummer, I know."
"You're allowed to have feelings, Kaylee. You're allowed to be mad your parents abandoned you."
"It's not like that."
"I know. But you're allowed to feel like that."
"They're doing a good thing, moving closer to Grandma. She needs their help. She… I should be there too."
He shakes his head. "You leave school over my dead body."
"You'd die to keep me in school?"
"If that's what it took." He shoots me a look. "Don't you get tired taking care of the whole world?"
"Maybe. Don't you?"
"I only take care of you and Em."
"And the tattoo shop."
He nods. Silence passes. We work through our dinners. The food really is amazing, but it doesn't satisfy me the way I need to be satisfied.
It only makes me hungrier.
Needier.
His eyes fix on mine. His voice drops to something low and demanding. "Have you thought about what I said?"
"About… sex?"
"No, about Die Hard," he teases.
"I still think the first one is the best."
He holds my gaze. "About sex."
I nod. "I saw those pictures. Was that me in your bed?"
"Yes."
"Tied up?"
"Yes."
"I want that." I swallow hard. "Will you teach me?"
* * *
He stares back at me. "Are you sure you're ready to learn?"
I try to look at Brendon, but I can't manage to hold his gaze. It's too intense.
I've fantasized about this a million times. It doesn't feel possible that it's really happening. Could my best friend's smoking hot older brother really want me?
Brendon sets his fork down on the table. He's done with his dinner.
He stares into my eyes. "You're nervous."
I can admit that. I nod.
"I don't bite."
"Never?"
His lips curl into a smile. "Maybe if you beg."
Ahem. I suck in a deep breath in the hopes of fighting the blush forming over my cheeks. It doesn't help. I'm already hot.
I take another bite of my stir-fry, but food is no longer appealing. I have a different need I want satisfied.
I push my plate away. I force myself to look Brendon in the eyes. "What do you mean by beg?"
His eyes are on fire. "You know exactly what I mean."
"I've never done anything before. No sex. Nothing."
"Not even vanilla?"
I nod.
He stares back at me. "It's simple. You submit to my demands."
"Like what?"
His voice drops to something deep. "Come here and sit in my lap."
The hard tone of his voice sends shivers down my spine. I'm familiar with dominance and submission—I certainly read enough romance novels to have come across those themes—but I've never actually considered it.
I move out of my seat and I sit in his lap.
I take a deep breath. "Should we really do this? You're my best friend's brother."
"I know."
"Isn't that wrong?"
"I don't care. Do you?"
"I do… but why me?"
"You're gorgeous, and smart, and you look fucking adorable when your cheeks are flushed with desire." He leans in close enough to whisper. "I want to see how deeply you blush when I order y
ou to strip naked for my viewing pleasure."
Damn, my cheeks are already burning.
Brendon runs his fingers through my hair. "This is why." He runs his fingertips down my chest. "This adorable blush." He looks down at me. "I want to see what those green eyes of yours look like filled with pleasure."
I nod.
"I want to see you out of those good girl clothes." His voice gets low, deep. "I want you to be bad for me."
I want that too. I look up at him. "I've never done anything before. No sex. Nothing."
"Not even vanilla?"
I nod.
"I'll start slow. Walk you through it. Trust me, Kaylee. I've got you."
"For how long?"
"Until you say when."
"So it's casual?"
He nods.
"Okay. Casual. I can do casual. But Emma's asleep right now."
He nods. "Can you stay quiet?"
"Maybe."
"I need a yes, angel."
The old nickname shouldn't set me on fire, but it does.
I nod. "Do we need a safeword?"
"If you'd like."
"Tattoo."
He chuckles. "Tattoo?"
"Is that a problem?"
"No." He takes my hand. "You being this fucking adorable is a problem if I want to stay quiet enough we don't wake Emma."
"Oh."
"Is that a yes?"
"Yes, I can stay quiet."
"I'm going to test you on that."
My chest flushes. "Here?"
He nods. "Here." He pulls me to my feet. Then he's taking a seat on the armchair in the corner. "Now, angel, take off your dress."
Fuck, I'm hot.
His voice gets rough. "Don't make me ask twice."
* * *
My skin flushes. First, it's my cheeks. Then my chest. The heat spreads down my torso and across my limbs.
I'm hot everywhere.
Brendon's eyes are different. They're intense. Demanding. If this were any other guy, I'd be terrified. But I trust him.
I reach around to unzip my dress. Slowly, I push my straps off my shoulders. First, the right. Then, the left. The dress falls to my waist, exposing my breasts.
I'm not wearing a bra. Emma was right—that was the only way I could squeeze into her dress.
Brendon gives me a long once over. His eyes are wide with desire. But there's something else too—this look that orders me to obey.