by Nashoda Rose
I snorted. “Full of yourself, aren’t you?” But he was right. He was on a whole other level than Lance. “It’s not all about the sex, Ream. Maybe that’s where you’ve gone off course.”
He was quiet until we reached the side door where he grabbed my arm before I could slip inside. “Sex is primal. And it’s ugly as fuckin’ hell. I know that better than anyone. But with you … with you it’s all beauty. You managed to obliterate the ugly, Kat.”
The electricity in the air sparked off in every direction. I held my breath and he was so close that if I stood on my tiptoes and leaned an inch forward, our lips would meet. But I couldn’t. No matter what my attraction was to Ream, I was trying to move forward and be with someone else.
“Nite,” I mumbled and made a dash for my bedroom. When I slammed the door behind me, I leaned up against it, my breathing harsh and ragged.
I had no clue what I was going to do living under the same roof as Ream and with him acting like he was. It threw me off balance and into complete chaos. I couldn’t let him back in. He may have kept my secret, but I didn’t trust him to not hurt me again.
I changed and brushed my teeth while staring at myself in the mirror. Maybe he felt like he could save me after failing with his sister? But I didn’t want that. Ream may think he can win me back with his games, but I wasn’t a prize to be won. Hadn’t Ream figured out yet that I couldn’t be fixed?
I tossed and turned for hours in bed before I finally gave in to my festering thoughts and got up. I quietly opened my door, listening for anyone awake, but the house was silent. I padded down the hallway to the sunroom, which was off Logan’s office. It was a small glass-enclosed room with one chair and ottoman and my easel and paints. I turned on the lights and stared at the painting I’d been working on over the last few weeks. It was an abstract of a herd of horses galloping head-on with dust kicked up and swirling around them.
I walked over to my easel, picked up the tubes of Payne’s gray and titanium white, spurted blobs on my palette, then began mixing until I had the perfect shade. Then I painted until the wee hours of the morning.
***
She was safe.
Nothing else mattered.
Nothing would touch her.
I swore to protect her at all costs.
But her beauty had emerged.
And he had noticed.
I had to protect her from him. From everyone.
Logan and Emily were gone by the time I rolled out of bed at nine. I never slept in but was unable to sleep due to the Ream-poison sloshing through my veins, so I was up painting until four in the morning before I managed to crash.
I felt the familiar signs of my body reacting to the stress and exhaustion, and I pulled out the little bottle in the back of my nightstand and slipped one of the green pills into my mouth. The needles did nothing to calm my nerves that shot off like jet speed sprinklers. But the pills did and I hoped it was enough to get me through the day.
There was a note on the fridge from Emily that she and Logan went to see the house with the real estate agent and then to visit Isabelle. She put a little winky face beside the xx. I knew exactly what they were doing, and I was really happy for them. Ream, Crisis, and Kite were no doubt still sleeping. I imagined their sleep schedules were all screwed up after touring.
I looked out the living room window on my way back to the sunroom with my coffee. I glanced out at the horse field hoping to catch a glimpse of Clifford. Hank usually turned them out around seven every morning.
My breath caught in my throat as I saw Ream standing at the fence line, his hand stroking Clifford’s muzzle. I stared for a few minutes, watching him look vulnerable and uncertain, while Clifford pushed and insisted on being patted.
It was like us, I realized. Ream was confident and sure of what he wanted, insisting. Me … I didn’t want to open myself up to the hurt again. I’d been destroyed when my parents died. A scar that never went away. To lose someone you loved so much … Ream knew what it was like, but for me it was more than just emotional. I felt it physically too. It was all about staying safe. No stress. Lance was safe. Ream was a threat.
I turned away from the window and continued into the sunroom, closing the door and shutting out the image of Ream.
It was several hours later when I heard the shouting and the swearing. I ran out into the living room to see Crisis, Kite, and Ream all sitting on the floor, their legs out, leaning up against the couch. Crisis and Ream had controllers in their hands and the shouting had been at the TV where cars were racing down a track.
“Sweetcakes, sit and watch me beat your boyfriend’s ass,” Crisis said, then groaned as his car went spinning out of control around a corner and Ream’s went flying by.
“I’m seeing Lance now, Crisis.”
“Yeah, whatever.” He waved his hand in the air as if he didn’t believe me.
I let it pass. After all, it was Crisis and he enjoyed stirring shit up. Although, Ream’s face looked pretty damn pleased, most likely from the comment and not that he was now winning.
I went and sat on the arm of the couch. Ream held his controller like he did everything else, with confidence. There was no screwed up face like Crisis, who was currently sticking his tongue out, scrunching his nose, and moving the controller in the direction he was turning. “You know, it’s amusing to watch, but you do realize that moving your body doesn’t have any effect on what’s happening on the screen in this game.”
“He thinks it does. You should see him play the fighting games,” Kite said then chuckled.
I hadn’t noticed it before but Kite’s laugh was hot. The kind that sunk into your bones, a rough, raspy sound … huh. I looked at Kite again, wondering why the hell he didn’t have a girl. He was hot, covered in ink, and was a good guy. Okay, he had some serious piercings, but I imagined that the stud on his tongue might feel pretty damn hot in certain places. When I glanced back up, I saw Ream watching me watching Kite and he was scowling.
“Woot!” Crisis yelled and threw his arms in the air. “Busted. Next time, eyes on the road instead of the babe.”
Ream and I both looked at the screen. His car had spun out on the grass just within sight of the finish line.
I laughed.
He stood.
My lips parted and heart raced, along with the horde of butterflies causing frenzy in my lower body. Then he did that subtle wink again. Ream winking at me was super sexy, and it left me breathless.
I was still uncertain about where we stood and if he was taking the friends idea seriously or if he was going to push for more. He held out his controller to me. “Play Kite, he’ll take it easy on you, Kitkat. The loser plays me. Winner, Crisis.”
I stood and walked over to him. That was my first mistake because being in his space meant I could smell him, and it was good and my body remembered it being good. I grabbed the controller then frowned, holding it out in front of me with two fingers. “You want to grab me a cloth or something? This thing’s all sweaty and gross.”
Ream chuckled and it sent a wave of tingles through me, and it was all good tingles. Yep, his chuckle was hotter than Kite’s. He leaned in and whispered, “I can bring you anything you want, beautiful. And I specifically remember you liking sweaty.”
I sat on the floor. It was quick and ungraceful because my body was hyperaware and sparking off with desire. It was like little fairy hands were partying on my skin and reaching out for Ream, screaming his name.
Crisis hopped over the back of the couch. “We need beers for this race. Might want to take a piss before they start, Ream. You know how Kite plays … old grandpa driving. Kat, you could beat him on a scooter.”
Ream smacked Kite on the shoulder. “Try and keep it on the pavement, buddy.” Then he looked at me. “You any good, Kitkat? Need some tips?”
I shrugged. “I’ve played. I prefer the fantasy games. You know, using your brain to figure shit out. Driving in circles around a track doesn’t really appeal to me.”
“What does appeal to you?” Ream asked, and from his tone I knew he wasn’t talking about games, but I decided with Ream it was better to ignore his innuendos. I was used to Ream being pissed off and getting angry, losing his shit. This … this reminded me of when we met and it was ramping up my uncertainty to a whole new territory.
“Men in tights mostly,” I said. Kite burst out laughing. “You know like the superheroes.”
“Oh, sweetcakes, I’ll be your superhero any day. I can do wonders with my cock …” Crisis stopped mid-sentence, one leg over the couch, the other on the floor, and four beers in hand. He looked at Ream, who didn’t look happy—at all. The kind of mad that made you stop and stare then wonder if maybe you should run. Crisis didn’t of course. “First Emily, now Kat. What the fuck? What chick am I supposed to flirt with now? Christ, Kite, man, we need another chick to move in.”
Ream grabbed two beers from him and opened them, passing one to me. “Thanks.” He nodded then tilted his head back and swallowed the ice cold liquid.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away and was caught staring when he lowered his beer and our gazes collided.
Shit.
“Earth to dollop?” Crisis ruffled my hair.
“Dollop?”
Kite pointed to a blob of paint on the back of my hand then nodded to the TV. “Pick your car, lovely.” Kite had a faint Irish accent, but it accentuated with the word lovely. He went on to suggest which car would be best for me and then gave me some pointers. Before long we were racing.
I forgot about Ream, well forgot is a strong word, I was always aware of him, but I pushed him to the far back corner of my mind. Shit that was a lie too; he was sitting beside me, long, lean legs stretched out in jeans. Not just any jeans, but ones worn out at the knees. Faded and just snug in all the right places. Our shoulders touched—okay, inches apart—but the magnetic pull I felt, it was like we were touching. Why couldn’t I get him out of me? Why was he so hard to forget? Could we be friends again? No, there was too much sexual tension between us to just be friends. I couldn’t imagine seeing him with another woman … Oh God, I hadn’t thought of that.
“Kat, what the hell are you doing? Girls.” Crisis slapped his knee and laughed.
I focused back on the screen, and I was going full throttle into a bridge, tires skidding and not going anywhere. Kite was laughing his ass off so hard that he rammed his car into a sign and did a one eighty. I reversed and started back on the track. Kite was half a lap ahead of me.
Ream’s hand came down on my thigh and Jesus I was so surprised—and yes, ready to jump the asshole—that I dropped the controller and my car came to a dead stop in the middle of the track.
“Hands off, bucko.” I glared at him and he put up his hands, but I saw the flicker of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He wanted me to lose … cheater. “No touching the players. I’ll call distraction.”
Crisis looped his arm around Kite’s throat and pulled him backwards. “Kat. Go. Go. Go. You can still beat this pussy.”
I laughed and got down to business and made my way around the track, but Kite had managed to escape Crisis’ hold and was nearing the finish line.
“You suck, sugar,” Crisis said, shaking his head. “Give me the controller. I’m kicking some Kite butt.” I passed it over and heard the roar of the engines as the boys waited for the countdown. “Eat my gas,” Crisis yelled as he shot off ahead of Kite. “Fuckin’ did that on the tour bus,” Kite muttered. I couldn’t stop the laugh-snort from emerging. “Kat, did Emily tell you about Logan banning Crisis from the bus in Minnesota?” I shook my head. “The pig was walking around naked, drunk, and with a chick, who was no shy screamer, in his bunk. Emily saw him and … shit Ream … didn’t she say she puked a little at the sight of his naked ass?”
“Ha. More like wondering if she was in the wrong bed,” Crisis said.
I laughed because there wasn’t even the remotest chance that Emily would ever think that. Even if his cock was the size of a baseball bat.
“And at least I can make them scream.” Crisis swung his arms out wide as he made a turn and nearly clocked Kite in the face. “That punk chick you fucked in the dressing room … remember her?” Kite grunted. “Yeah you do, so does the whole fuckin’ crew. Shit.” Crisis’s car crashed into a median and slowed as it hit the grass. Kite’s car whizzed past.
“You’re going to lose, dickbrain,” Kite said, grinning.
“Fuck.” Crisis focused on the TV and the story I wanted to hear was left unsaid.
Crisis ended up winning and Ream and I clanked beers with him. It was good to see them not at each other’s throats. Guys were funny. They could beat the shit out of one another, call each other the worst names ever, and then be best buds drinking together the next minute.
I hated that the shit between Ream and me had caused conflict with Crisis and Ream. But it also seemed part of what they did, like brothers. Egging one another on, teasing, and that was what Crisis had been doing. Pushing the boundary with me in front of Ream.
“Ready?” Ream’s voice was soft and gentle and at the same time had an edge to it that heated my lower region into a low boil. Fuck. I need to concentrate on not getting my ass kicked.
Kite passed me his controller, and I picked my car then paused. “How about we pick another track? Something a little more … challenging?”
Ream shrugged. “Whatever you like. Your choice, beautiful.”
I loved when he called me that, and that’s why I hated it so much. “Call me that again and I’ll have to kick your ass and embarrass you in front of your buddies.” I scrolled through until I found the off-roading.
Crisis started laughing hysterically, and Kite shook his head back and forth. He leaned close and nudged me with his shoulder. “That’s Ream’s specialty. You sure you want to pick that? ’Cause you’re not kicking his ass on that track no matter what you do.”
“It’s just a game, boys. Not like I’m losing anything big.”
“Bragging rights,” Crisis muttered.
“Pride,” Kite decreed.
I laughed.
Ream chuckled. “I’ll take it easy on her. I love that you picked my favorite track, baby.” He leaned closer and I held up my hand.
“No touching. Don’t call me baby or beautiful, and if you manage those things, then maybe I’ll take it easy on you.”
“Oh I don’t need you to take it easy on me, beautiful. Everyone already knows I’m king of off-roading. You see the score board?” He clicked a few times and up came the scores for the track. Ream’s name was all over it. He lowered his voice. “I may even let you get your name up on the board if you let me kiss—”
I frowned. “Not a chance. I’m kicking your butt because I’m better than you.”
He laughed, head thrown back exposing his throat again. A throat I’d nibbled on and suckled and ran my tongue across. Then I bit my tongue and jerked my head to the screen and buckled down.
Ream was good … no, he was great at off-roading, but I did grow up with an older brother and I omitted a little truth. Fantasy games were my favorite, but I excelled at car racing. Purposely losing the last game with Kite had been fun, beating Ream was better.
“The new love of my life,” Crisis exclaimed as I tore through the finish line ahead of Ream by a fraction.
“Again,” Ream nudged me with his shoulder, and I tried to control my giddiness. I expected him to be mad that he lost, but instead Ream was all playful and sweet, and I was melting.
We played for another hour and Ream beat me twice and I kicked Crisis’ butt, which had him changing up the game to boxing.
“I’m out, boys.” I passed my controller to Kite then got up and went to the kitchen to grab something to eat before I went back to painting. I never heard Ream follow me, but when I shut the pantry door he was right behind me.
“We’re going for lunch.” Ream took my hand before I could object and started walking to the door. He snagged keys f
rom the hook on the wall. “Later, boys,” he called out.
“Ream.” He pulled me out on the porch. “Ream. Seriously, I’m dating someone else.”
“So. We’re friends going to grab food.” He stopped at his car and held open the passenger door. “In.” His brows rose at my hesitation. “I’m beginning to think you argue with me on purpose because it turns you on.”
I opened my mouth to argue then slammed it shut. Then I got in and watched his sweet ass stride around the front of the car and slide in next to me.
He took me to a cute little pub in King Township. Emily and I had been numerous times since it had a live band on Friday and Saturday nights and was close to the farm when we didn’t want to travel to the city. The pub also had food I could eat with my new diet so I ordered a cob salad and chicken sandwich toasted on rye.
I snagged a fry from Ream’s plate, and he reached across and dug his fork into a baby carrot. When he bit into it, I imagined him biting me. Gah … this was a bad idea. We’d never be able to just be friends.
We talked about Logan and Emily, the band, the tour and what it was like, and plans for the new album. He asked about Clifford and my upcoming art show at the gallery. I expected Ream to push about our relationship, but he didn’t touch the subject and it felt like … like we used to be. He was completely relaxed, even the usual intensity in his dark eyes was calm.
“So do you love it? The touring?” We’d talked about the concerts and how it was wild and crazy with a ton of people constantly around.
Ream stretched his legs out under the table and his calf rubbed up against mine sending goose bumps across my skin. “You cold?”
I cleared my throat and crossed my arms trying to hide the effect he had on me. There was a mischievous spark dancing in his eyes. I shook my head and took a sip of my coffee.