I had stood there staring at him, rooted to the spot, unable to tear my eyes away. My heart pounded. Blood rushed through my veins. A surge of emotion so strong washed over me like a tsunami wiping everything in its path. Everything I knew before was gone in an instant. And I knew the truth.
I knew I loved him dangerously.
“Brave effort, but you’ll never beat the champ, honeybun,” he’d said, winking proudly.
“I stuck my tongue out,” I tell him, returning to the present. “And you chased me, caught me quickly, scooping me up in your arms.” My eyes skim his face, my fingers tracing soft lines across his cheeks, his strong jawline, his face the same yet not the same. “You held me so tight,” I whisper, “and I never wanted you to let go.” The feel of his damp skin underneath my hands and the brush of his body against mine is as vivid as if it was yesterday.
“I wanted to kiss you then,” he whispers back, his fingers winding around my neck.
“Do you remember how we looked at each other?” He nods. “It was like time stood still. Like no one else existed in the world but us.” Something passed between us in that moment, some unspoken, inexplicable connection, and I knew I’d never love any boy like I loved him. “I knew then that I loved you. That I’d never love anyone else but you.”
“Lana.” His voice is breathy, needy, as his hand fists in my hair and he draws me closer. His eyes darken with lust and pure unadulterated emotion, and he moves in for the kill.
“Wait!” I plant my hand on his chest. “There’s something I need to tell you first.”
“Don’t say it,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to one corner of my mouth. “Nothing else needs to be said. I love you. You love me. I don’t want anything to take away from this moment.” He presses a kiss to the other corner of my mouth, and my brain goes blank. He trails a line of hot, sweet kisses up and down my jaw, nibbling on my earlobe and licking the throbbing pulse at my neck.
My head falls back, and I’m losing control and all sense of right and wrong.
His hand slides from my waist to my hip, and he grips me firmly, his arousal pushing against my ass. A whimper flies out of my mouth as I rock against him, my own need throbbing almost painfully. His mouth brushes against mine, and that one touch unravels me. Seizing the back of my head, he closes the remaining distance between us, fusing our mouths. His kiss is surprisingly soft and tender, and his lips caress mine with infinite adoration. The kiss deepens, his mouth moving more demandingly against mine. He tugs my lower lip between his teeth, and I gasp into his mouth. His hand moves down my back, gripping my ass, hoisting me even closer as my legs straddle either side of him. His erection is thick and hard against my stomach, and my panties are soaked with need.
His tongue runs along the seam of my lips, requesting entry, and I open for him. He explores my mouth with growing intensity, and our tongues tangle wildly. His kisses brand my lips, leaving scorching-hot imprint marks. My skin is on fire, and I writhe against him as a surge of pent-up desire breaches the surface.
He breaks away, and we both pant, gasping for air. His eyes are heavy with desire, his lips swollen. “We have to stop,” he pants. “Or I’ll end up taking you right here.” There isn’t a single part of me that objects to that plan. He pecks my lips quickly. “I love kissing you so much.”
“Ditto.” I chuckle at my breathy voice.
He intertwines our hands as we attempt to get our breathing under control. “Spend the day with me tomorrow.”
The corners shave off my happiness. “I can’t. I have to go home.”
“Again?”
All the warmth leaves my body at once as reality comes a calling. “I go home every weekend. I …” My mouth turns dry, and I’m like a solid brick of ice in his embrace. I shudder all over.
Say it, Lana! Get this over and done with.
But I can’t force the words out. I don’t want anything to ruin this moment.
Kal wraps his arms around me more snugly. “It’s okay. You don’t need to explain, but can I book a date for the following Saturday, please?”
“Why?” I croak, struggling to breathe over my mounting panic.
“I hate that I missed your eighteenth birthday, so we’re having a do over. I want an eighteenth birthday date.”
My heart spikes in a new burst of happiness. “You don’t have to do that. It wasn’t a big deal.” I didn’t want any fuss. Mom took me out for dinner while my grandparents babysat Hewson. Dad sent me a gift voucher for my e-reader.
“Well, I happen to think it is. I was really depressed when the day rolled around because I wasn’t with you.” He tweaks my nose playfully. “I want to give you a day to remember, so, what do you say, are you in?”
I know Mom won’t mind if I tell her I have to work an additional shift or I have an assignment to do. I shouldn’t lie, but I want to spend the day with Kal.
I’m a selfish bitch. I know that, but it doesn’t stop me from agreeing. “Okay, I’m in.”
We finish the rest of our picnic reminiscing and chatting about more casual stuff. I’m on cloud nine when he drops me home, kissing me for an eternity outside my dorm. Ignoring the inner voice berating me for my cowardice, I fall asleep dreaming of Kal’s lips, his beautiful words, and the way it felt being held by him.
Kal wants to drive me home on Saturday, but I manage to win that argument, thanks to the ungodly hour I need to leave. Still, I know I won’t be able to deflect questions about my weekends, and why I need to go home, for very long.
I’ll tell him after the date to celebrate my eighteenth, I promise myself.
Mom greets me at the door—like she always does—with Hewson snuggled against her chest. I rush to his side, holding my arms out for him, but he clings to Mom, refusing to even look up at me.
This has never happened before. Someone may as well have made mincemeat of my heart. Tears glide down my cheeks as I follow my mother into the house. She places Hewson in his playpen and turns around, enveloping me in her arms. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. He’s just going through a phase. It’s his way of punishing you for not being here. Give him some time, and he’ll come to you.” She pats my arm, wiping away my tears. “It’ll be fine.”
Mom was right, and after a little bit, Hewson lets me pick him up. I spoil him rotten all day, and he’s barely out of my arms.
That evening, I take my time getting him ready for bed. I fill the tub with the rubber ducks he loves and get in with him. We have great fun splashing about, and we only get out when the water starts to turn cold. After we’re dressed in our pajamas, I hold him close to my heart while he drinks his bottle. I regale him with stories in a hushed voice while U2 plays quietly in the background. I tell him about Kal, and he falls asleep with my whispered words of his father in his ear.
On Sunday, I bring him to the local playground, pushing him on the baby swing and holding him as he slides down the slide. In the afternoon, we take a dip in my grandparents’ heated pool while Mom reads on a lounge chair, sneaking sly looks when she thinks I’m not watching. Her loving smile and my son’s playful chuckles fill my heart with so much joy.
I stand by his crib for longer than usual Sunday night, staring at my beautiful baby boy, awash with conflicting emotions. His chest rises and falls as he sleeps with a contented smile on his face. His hair is growing longer and darker by the day, an exact match to his father’s. I skim over his face, noting the strong jawline, broad nose, and golden skin. I imagine if I asked Alexandra for pictures of Kal as a baby that it would be like looking into a mirror. Apart from the little dimple in one cheek, all his features are a carbon copy of Kal’s.
What is he going to think when he finds out?
It’s not like he purposely chose to be a father at seventeen, so it’s a lot to take on board. Then again, I’ve adjusted, and I can’t imagine my life without Hewson. Even though I’ve sacrificed my dre
am of being a writer, and some days I’m dog tired and teary and ready to give in, I don’t have any regrets. The love I feel in my heart for this little boy is indescribable. I would move heaven and earth to give him everything he needs. I want him to grow up happy and well cared for and to know he is loved so much. I may not have planned this, but there can be no greater gift than creating such a beautiful new life with the boy I love. I hope Hewson grows up to be the very best parts of both of us.
No, as I look at my precious miracle, sleeping soundly in his crib, I don’t regret bringing him into this world—only shutting his dad out. Kal has already missed so much, and I won’t blame him if he can’t ever forgive me for that. Even if he hates me, even if he refuses to have anything more to do with me, I will always have this little piece of him by my side. Very softly, I trail my fingers across Hewson’s little face. He stirs, and his lips curl into a smile. My heart swells with love. No child will ever be more loved by a mother.
I pray Kal feels the same way. Despite how he might feel about me once he hears the news, I hope he’ll want to form a relationship with his son.
I want that for Hewson.
I want that for Kal.
Chapter Twenty
Lana
Leaving Hewson this time is the hardest of all, because I know I’m not going to see him until next Sunday. Guilt is chipping away at my defenses, and I’m tempted to text Kal and call the whole eighteenth makeover birthday date off; however, the instant I see him—waiting across the road from the bus stop for me, looking hotter than any mortal has a right to—all honorable intentions fly out the window.
I run to him, and he picks me up, swinging me around in his arms. His mouth crashes to mine with urgent need, and we devour one another, kissing each other frantically as if it’s been two years instead of two days since we last kissed. “Baby, I missed you so much,” he says when our lip lock ends, hugging me close to his chest. “Please stay the night with me? Brett is away at a game, and we have the place to ourselves. I just want to hold you and kiss you. I have no other expectation. I just can’t be without you tonight.”
“Okay.” I send Olivia a quick text as Kal drives us to his dorm.
“I love what you’ve done with the place,” I quip as we enter the messy space. A large U2 poster is hanging on the wall by his bed. Clothes litter the floor, and empty pizza boxes and cans are scattered across the table. Both beds are unmade. I shake my head. “Still a slob.”
“I was going to clean up before you came, but then I figured there’s no point. You already know all my bad habits, and you still love me.” He grins smugly, flashing his perfectly straight perfectly white teeth. Flopping down on the bed, he pats the space beside him.
“No chance. I’m not getting into that bed until I’ve changed the sheets.”
He rolls his eyes before burying his nose in the comforter. His nose wrinkles. “It doesn’t smell that bad.”
“And that’s all the answer I need.” I plant my hands on my hips. “Sheets, please?”
I change the bed, while Kal clears away the dirty clothes and the empty boxes. Then we get changed—sleep shorts and a tank for me and track shorts for Kal—and snuggle up in bed, watching a movie on his laptop. My head is resting on his bare chest, testing my willpower to the limit. Kal is all sharp angles, and defined muscles, and my hands start wandering without permission.
“Are you feeling me up?” I can hear the amusement in his voice.
No point denying it. Not when my fingers are currently exploring every dip and curve of his abs. “Yeah. Got a problem with it?”
He laughs lightly. “Hell no. Don’t stop.” His arm is firm around my waist, and, with his other hand, he plays with my hair. “Lana,” he whispers.
“Yeah,” I whisper back, looking up at him.
“I love you.”
Tears well in my eyes. “I love you too.”
I want this to be real. So, so much. I wish there was no other secret between us. No risk of this all falling apart. Not when it feels so exquisite. So perfect. So right. We’re on borrowed time and I’m clinging to it like a drowning woman clinging to a life belt.
“I hate that I’m still making you cry.” He dabs at the moisture on my cheeks.
I reposition myself, running my hands up his impressive chest. “These are happy tears.” In part. “I never thought you’d ever say those words to me.”
He pulls my head to his. “Get used to it. I’m going to repeat them so much you’ll be begging me to take them back.” His smile is teasing before he pecks my lips.
“Never,” I whisper against his mouth. “I will never tire of hearing you say that.”
I lean in and kiss him, covering his mouth in short, teasing strokes. His hand grips the back of my head, and he pulls me on top of him, our bodies flush against one another. Angling my head, he kisses me passionately, his tongue dipping in and out of my mouth. My arms snake around his neck, and he maneuvers us so we’re on our sides, our bodies pressed against one another. My leg curves up, wrapping around his thigh. He groans, grinding against me, and as his hard-on pushes against my core, I whimper, gripping his thigh more tightly. My hands move down, exploring his ripped chest and abs, and I revel in the way he flinches and quivers at my touch. His hands slide under my tank top, inching higher and higher until his fingers reach the edge of my bra. “Can I take this off?” he asks in a sultry voice.
I sit up, lifting my tank over my head and tossing it on the floor. I unclip my bra and fling it aside, never taking my eyes from his. He moans, licking his lips as he watches me. “Fuck!” He reaches out, and his fingers caress the tip of one nipple before he grabs my full breast in his hand, squeezing softly. “These are fucking magnificent.” His other hand grips my other breast in the same manner. “Didn’t want this one to feel left out,” he jokes with a smirk. “Lie on your back.” I oblige, and he crawls over me, peppering my face and neck with kisses before moving slowly down my body. He presses the softest kiss in the gap between my breasts, and the most embarrassing moan leaves my mouth. He chuckles as his tongue flicks out, tasting one nipple. My back arches off the bed as I make another embarrassing sound. “You are so responsive. I love it.” His lips suction over my nipple, and he draws it deep into his mouth, sucking and grazing the tip, and the pulsing in my core is going haywire. He moves to my other breast, lavishing it with the same attention, as his lower body presses down gently against me.
I raise my hips, rocking against the bulge in his pants, squirming with need. He lifts his head from my chest, piercing me with a heady lust-filled gaze. “Can I make you come?”
“Please,” I beg, squirming underneath him.
Bracing himself on his hands, he leans down and kisses me deeply. I wrap my legs around his waist, tugging him down on top of me, and he chuckles into my mouth. He takes his time moving down my body, kissing, nipping, and sucking as he goes. “Kal, please.” I’m frantic with need.
His fingers reach the band of my shorts, and he slips his hand under, rubbing along my belly. Then he eases my shorts and panties down my body, pulling them off until I’m completely bare in front of him. Liquid lust radiates in his gaze as his eyes roam up and down my naked body. “Spread your legs,” he commands, nudging my thighs apart.
His breath tickles my core as he kneels between my legs. I buck up when he slides one finger inside me. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” My core is aching, and I’m moving with the rhythm of his finger, needing urgent release. Then he adds a second finger, and I scream as he starts pumping more frantically before withdrawing and replacing his fingers with his mouth. I last about twenty seconds before an explosion detonates in my body, sending shards of blissful tremors ricocheting throughout every part of me. He stays with me, milking every last delicious tremor until my body stills.
My hair is a tangled mess across my face as he moves up beside me. His lips are swollen and g
lossy from me, but I don’t care, yanking his mouth to mine and kissing him as if my life depends on it. “Oh my God, I needed that.”
“I love making you come.” He kisses my nose. “I intend to make it my life’s mission to make you come every day.”
“Oh, God,” I moan, running my hands up and down his back. “You can’t say things like that to me.” I push him down until he’s flat on his back. “Stay.” Kneeling before him, I grip the hem of his shorts and start tugging, but he takes hold of my wrists, stopping me.
“You don’t have to do that.”
I pierce him with a furious look. “Fuck off, Stinky. You just rocked my world, and I’m going to return the favor.”
He locks his hands behind his head, smirking. “If you insist, honeybun.”
I flip him the bird before whipping his shorts off. His erection springs up, and I lick my lips in anticipation. Wrapping my hand around his impressive length, I start stroking him slowly on purpose. His eyes roll back in his head as his body jerks underneath me. I tighten my grip, quickening my pace, and he moans out loud. Without warning, I lower my mouth onto him, taking him deep as I continue to grip him at the base. I graze my teeth along his length, and he shouts out. Sucking harder and faster, I bring him to release, suctioning on when he tries to free himself, swallowing every last drop.
I crawl up beside him, snuggling into his side. “Ho. Lee. Crap. Lana. I have no words.”
“Ha!” I laugh. “I brought the mighty Kalvin Kennedy to his knees.” Literally. I snicker.
“I’ve just amended my life’s mission.” He tips my chin up so our eyes meet. “It’s my mission to make you come every day and for you to reciprocate.”
“I think that can be arranged,” I tease, deliberately ignoring that chanting, negative voice in my head.
Loving Kalvin (The Kennedy Boys Book 4) Page 16