by Carnal, MJ
“See ya around, Copper,” Justin says over his shoulder.
I give him a wave, and he smiles before heading out of the house, the front door closing behind him.
As soon as Kenton faces me again, his eyes turn dark and his jaw starts to tick. “Come here.”
“Wh-what?” I stutter, looking at his clenched fists and the pulse of his neck, which is beating rapidly.
“Come here,” he repeats, the tone of his voice making me freeze in place.
“Why?” I ask softly.
“First, I haven’t seen or touched you in days and need to reassure myself that you’re good. Second, I need your help getting the image of what I just saw out of my head.”
His words have my feet moving before my brain even has a chance to catch up. I do a face-plant into his chest, wrapping my arms around his waist and breathing him in. Every breath I take eases some of the anxiety I didn’t even know I was feeling.
“What's going on?" I whisper into his chest. His muscles tense and I'm not sure I want to know anymore.
"Let's sit down." He takes my hand in his and leads me to the couch, where he tugs me down into his lap. "Your place in Vegas was broken into."
"Shit," I whisper. "What was taken?" I don’t really have anything of value, so I’m not too worried, but it still doesn’t feel good knowing that someone broke in.
"Nothin’,” he says, surprising me.
"What do you mean?" I ask, searching his face.
"Found out that Mick was the inside source at the club the night of the shooting.” He runs a hand down my back. "He told them who you are, and we’re guessing it was them who broke into your place."
I don’t want to believe that Mick was involved in what happened, especially because he and Tessa were sleeping together, but I’m not really surprised. Mick is a self-centered asshole who doesn’t care about anyone but himself.
"Okay, so what do we do now?" I wonder out loud. I can’t think of anything I left behind that would lead anyone here, but I can’t be sure.
His eyebrows come together in confusion and his hand travels to the back of my neck then up into my hair, fisting it. "You’re not gonna cry?"
"No," I reply, feeling my own eyebrows pull together, wondering why I should cry.
"Warrior,” he says quietly, his eyes going soft, making my heart pound a little harder. “I have a guy who’s connected to the organization that planned the hit. I sent him a message and am just waiting for him to get back to me.”
“What do you think they’re going to do?”
“Not sure, but I doubt they want the kind of publicity they’ll create if they try to send their guy after you.”
“What do they care about publicity if they are who you say they are?”
“They’re in control of half of Vegas. They may be Mob, but even they have an image to uphold,” he explains.
“They killed innocent people,” I remind him on a whisper. The thought of people like that caring what others think about them is laughable.
“They planned the hit, but their hands are clean.” He shrugs.
I look into his eyes and see an understanding that confuses me, and I wonder if he’s ever used that excuse. I lift my hand and run it along the roughness of his jaw. “Are you okay?” I ask him, seeing the weariness around his eyes.
“Yeah, but I’ll be even better when this shit’s over.”
I hear the tiredness in his voice and wonder how much sleep he’s gotten since he left. I push my fingers through his hair and his eyes start to close at the contact.
“You should take a nap,” I tell him softly. “We can figure out everything else later.”
“You gonna take one with me?” he asks.
Without thinking, I nod and he maneuvers me so that I’m straddling him. My breath leaves on a whoosh, my hands go to his shoulders, and his go to my ass. Our mouths are so close that I feel each of his breaths against my lips. I expect him to kiss me, but instead, he stands up off the couch. My legs wrap around his waist and I bite my lip when I feel the hard length of his arousal against my core through the thin material of my shorts.
When we reach my room, he pushes open the door and gently lays me on the bed before stepping back and taking off his boots and shirt. I watch, mesmerized, as his arm and abs flex when his fingers go to the button of his jeans and he pulls them down. I can see his hard-on outlined through his boxers, and my eyes travel up his body to his eyes, which look sleepy. I scoot back in the bed as he shuts off the light, and I feel the bed compress and his weight hit my side.
I try to ignore the ache between my legs as I lie on my back with his arm around my waist, his breath hitting my neck and his thigh over my legs. I try to calm down, but his hand lifts my shirt and my muscles clench. I expect him to grab my breast or touch me sexually, but he surprises me yet again when his hand just lies against my skin. All of my nerve endings are tingling in anticipation, and then I hear his light snore. My body relaxes and I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly before drifting off to sleep.
“Wake up, baby.”
I feel a featherlight touch travel down the side of my face. My eyes flutter open and connect with Kenton’s. “Hi,” I say, blinking against the light coming in from the now open blinds in the room.
His fingers run down the underside of my jaw then up along my ear. “You sleep okay when I was gone?” he asks, his eyes focused on his fingers traveling over my skin.
I think about lying and telling him that I slept great and didn’t miss him at all, but something about the moment has me blurting out the truth. “I missed sleeping with you.”
“Yeah?” His eyes search my face as I nod and close my eyes, feeling too exposed. “I slept like shit.” His words make my eyes open and search his face. “Hated that I couldn’t be here to look out for you and Justin was doing my job. I didn’t like that another man was in the house with you.”
“I wouldn’t—” I start to tell him that I would never even think about Justin like that, but his finger covers my lips and his head lowers towards mine.
“I know you wouldn’t. I still didn’t like it.” He takes away his finger and lowers his face towards mine.
The first touch of his lips is soft, and my eyes flutter closed as his hand runs along my jaw to the back of my neck. I whimper when his tongue runs along my bottom lip before nipping it with his teeth. My hands find their way into his hair so I can hold him to me. His hips shift and his hand at my hair travels down along my side then up and under the shirt I’m wearing, settling just below my breast.
As his mouth devours mine, I pull my mouth from his, pressing my head back into the pillow, lifting my chest, trying to get his hand to move. His thumb sweeps over my nipple; the slight contact has me moaning loudly.
“I need to see you,” he rumbles, pulling away. His hands go to the hem of the shirt, pulling it off over my head and tossing it to the floor behind him.
I start to cover myself, but his hands capture mine and tug them above my head. His eyes travel down my body, and when they come back to mine, the dark hunger I see makes me hold my breath. His mouth lowers towards mine again, his tongue plunging between my lips, not giving me a choice but to kiss him back. When his mouth leaves mine, traveling down my neck, he sucks my collarbone, causing my hips to lift and my chest to rise higher. His mouth starts a slow trek around my breast before I feel warm, wet heat cover my nipple. My body arches off the bed, and one of his hands leaves mine above my head and travels down to cup my other breast, his fingers rolling over my nipple, causing a moan to climb up my throat.
My hand goes to his shoulder, holding on as his hand navigates down over my stomach, causing my muscles to contract and wetness to gather between my thighs. The first feeling of his fingers along my pubic bone has me panicking, but want quickly takes over as one slides under the edge of my shorts and panties and then down to roll over my clit.
“Soaked,” he growls, his head lifting and his eyes locking on mine.
His finger lowers, entering me slowly as his eyes watch me closely. I don’t know whether to pull away or to lift my hips for more. When his hand leaves me, I cry out, only to be startled when I feel my panties and shorts being tugged off. Before I have a chance to think, his fingers are back and he adds his thumb, rolling it over the bundle of nerves that has me clawing at his shoulders.
“I really want to fucking taste you, but no way can I do that yet.” His jaw locks and a look of desperation fills his eyes. “My control is slipping, so I need you to come for me.”
I don’t understand what’s wrong, but as if he spoke directly to my body, I come on a cry, my head falling back and my eyes closing. The pull from below my belly button expands and explodes through my body. When the feeling subsides, I lift my head, still trying to catch my breath.
“Fucking exquisite,” he whispers, his eyes meeting mine, his fingers still lazily stroking between my legs.
I bite my lip, wondering what to do. I have never experienced anything like that before, and it’s been years since I’ve had sex. I feel completely out of my league and overwhelmed.
“Don’t,” he states firmly, making my eyes travel back to him. “Do not leave me here. Not right now.” His hands leave me as he crawls up my body, cocooning around me.
I clear my throat and shake my head. “I wasn’t. I mean…I just don’t know what I’m doing, so I feel—”
“Overwhelmed,” he states, running his nose along mine. “That’s why I didn’t do all the things I really want to do to you. I could see it in your eyes that you were unsure.” He kisses my forehead and rolls to his side, pulling me with him. “How long has it been?” he asks softly, gliding his fingers down my spine then back up again.
“A little over ten years.” I close my eyes in embarrassment and only open them when I realize that not only is his body tense, but he doesn’t seem to be breathing. “Are you okay?” I get up on my elbow so I can look at his face.
“Fuck,” he mutters as his eyes open. “How the hell have you kept yourself away from men for the last ten years?”
“It’s not hard when you’re not interested,” I answer truthfully, looking away from him.
“Until me.”
I hear the smugness in his voice and my eyes go back to him, narrowing when I see the smirk on his face. “My tastes could always change.”
“They won’t,” he says confidently.
“They might,” I huff, and his smirk turns into a full smile as he rolls on top of me.
“They won’t,” he repeats, this time kissing me silent.
“We’re not going out,” Kenton says as soon as I walk around the corner into the kitchen.
He’s wearing a dark-burgundy button-down shirt that looks like it’s custom-made for him. With the top button released, the shirt is tucked into a pair of black slacks that hug his thighs and show off his lean waist. I don’t know how it’s possible for him to look just as hot dressed up as he does in jeans. Seeing him like this has me craving to see him in a suit.
His eyes do a head-to-toe sweep, and I stumble slightly when our eyes lock. The look in his eyes is so dark and hungry that I can’t even take a breath. After he kissed me quiet earlier, he got out of bed and got dressed, telling me that he had some stuff to do, but we had a date and to make sure I was ready. I nodded, unable to talk, and watched as he left the room.
I got up, made some coffee, and ate a piece of toast before heading back upstairs to get ready for my first date. I took an extra-long shower, making sure I shaved everything from the neck down and scrubbed every inch of my body. I chose a dark-blue wrap dress that hugs my curves and shows some cleavage without being slutty. The shoes are what completes the outfit—gold stilettos with a strap across the tops of my toes and a thick band around my ankle. I did my makeup the same way I’d done the night I went to the club—simple with dark-red lipstick.
“You’re really testing my self-control.” Kenton’s rough voice brings me back to the present—along with his hands, which have found their way to my waist. “But then, if I don’t take you out, I can’t show you off.” One hand slowly slides up my waist to the bow that is holding my dress together. “You’re like a dessert I get to unwrap and eat at the end of the night.” His fingers wrap around the loose length of the ribbon, giving it a gentle tug. “Let’s go before I say fuck it and unwrap you here in the kitchen and take you on the counter.”
I’m not opposed to skipping dinner and being dessert now. After what happened earlier, I know I won’t put off being with him.
He smiles like he read my mind and shakes his head. “Dinner, then dessert.”
My pussy contracts and I bite my lip to stop from moaning. He leans forward, his finger going to my chin, pulling my lip out from between my teeth, kissing me softly.
“I wouldn’t mind skipping dinner,” I tell him when his mouth leaves mine.
He laughs, shaking his head and taking my hand. “We’re both gonna need our strength.” He walks us out to his car, opening the passenger’s side door for me before shutting it and jogging around the car to slide behind the wheel. As soon as we make it down the driveway, his hand interlocks with mine on my lap.
“So, where are we going?” I ask once I find my voice again.
“An Italian place a couple of towns over. They have the best eggplant parmesan I’ve ever eaten in my life.”
“I love Italian,” I tell him.
“I know.” He smiles, squeezing my fingers.
“How do you know?”
“All those frozen dinners you bought are Italian.” He laughs, making me smile and my cheeks heat up in embarrassment.
“I’m not good at cooking.” I shake my head and look out the window.
“I can teach you how to cook,” he says softly, squeezing my hand.
“I would like that.” I’ve always wanted to learn how to cook, but every time I’ve tried, it’s been a disaster, so I’ve given up.
We talk the rest of the way to the restaurant about his favorite things to cook and how he learned. I knew that his aunt Viv and uncle own the diner I had gone to the first time I met Viv, but I didn’t know that he used to work there during the summers when he was younger.
When we arrive at the restaurant, he finds parking along the busy street and leads me inside. The interior is dim, with mood lighting that makes the space feel much more intimate. The tables are covered in white linen cloths with a single tea light candle in the center of each. The host leads us to a small table in the back of the restaurant, but when he begins to pull out my chair, Kenton stops him, taking the chair and holding it for me until I take a seat. He then takes his own seat across from me.
“Would you like to see the wine list?” the waitress asks when she arrives at our table.
I look up at her and see that her eyes are glued to Kenton. I know that, if we’re going to try and build something lasting between us, I need to get a hold on the jealousy I feel when other women admire him, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.
“Would you like a glass of wine, baby?”
My eyes travel from the waitress to Kenton, and I shake my head. I don’t want anything tainting tonight.
His eyes darken with approval and never leave mine as he answers the waitress. “Just water for now.”
She nods and leaves us to look over the menus.
“Do you know what you’re going to have?” he asks after a few minutes.
“I don’t know. Everything looks so good,” I tell him, my mouth watering in anticipation.
“Everything here is delicious. My parents used to bring me and Toni here when we were growing up.”
My throat clogs at the happy memory of him and his family. A wave of sadness hits me over the fact that I have none to share with him.
“Stay with me, baby. We’re here together.” He takes my hand in his, some of his strength seeping into me through our connection.
I look into his eyes and nod as he brings my fingers t
o his mouth, pressing a kiss to them. “I’m okay,” I say after a few seconds.
He nods but doesn’t release my hand. Even when the waitress comes back to the table to take our order, he still holds on to me but changes the subject. We talk about my job and the request I put in to change shifts; we also talk about Justin and how he started working for him.
He keeps the conversation away from family and anything else he thinks might have me retreating. I know what he’s doing, and I appreciate it more than he knows. During dinner, I realize that he has a way of reading me that no one else ever had. That in itself tells me everything I need to know about being with him.
“Are you ready for dessert?” the waitress asks when she arrives back at our table after clearing our empty dishes.
I squirm, remembering what he said to me in the kitchen about being dessert when we got home. His eyes flare and his tongue comes out, running along his bottom lip.
“Yes,” Kenton replies, his eyes on mine. “You ready for dessert, baby?”
I know his question isn’t about food, and I squeeze my legs together and nod.
“We’ll take a piece of tiramisu to go, please.” He pulls out his wallet, handing her his card.
After he gets his card back along with a dessert box, we get back into his car, and the lust is so thick that I swear I can taste it as he pulls out into traffic. His hand goes to my knee then travels up my thigh and under the hem of my dress. When I feel his finger slide over my core, I gasp.