Filthy Desires: A Romantic Suspense Collection

by Parker, Kylie

  I nod in agreement. I can tell he is trying ridiculously hard to cover up the stutter in front of me. Max clearly is not comfortable being in the same room as me. It is a little weird that we have never met before, but it’s not like I ever showed any interest in getting to know any of Eddie’s family. I decide to try and talk to him so that he doesn’t feel like he has to leave. The next thing I know; we are having this long conversation about Eddie.

  I tell him about growing up with Eddie. About Eddie and I running around my dad’s company. About family holiday’s. About sibling rivalries. That sort of thing. He asks a lot of questions, and I answer them the best I can. I tell him that he looks like Eddie a little, and it makes him beam with a bit of pride. I ask about him, but everything he has to say points back to Eddie in one way or another.

  Max tells me that he grew up with a single mom. Apart from her shitty taste in men, she sounds like a decent woman. She worked two jobs to take care of Max growing up, but she could never afford to get him much help with his condition because they could not afford health insurance. Eddie, a few years ago, had come looking for all of his siblings, and Max had apparently been the first he found. Max was able to introduce Eddie to the others. Eddie had paid to get Max into speech therapy, and he had helped to set up a retirement plan for Max’s mom. Max also credited Eddie with helping to get him a job.

  I could hear it in Max’s voice –the incredible amount of gratitude he had for what Eddie had done for him, and it makes me feel like an ass. Clearly, Max is not just some freeloader that I had assumed all of Eddie’s siblings would be. In fact, by the end of the day, I would even be willing to call Max a friend. The two of us wind up going down to the cafeteria in the hospital to have dinner together, and we keep talking until they kick us out.

  Now I feel bad that I haven’t gotten to know him before now. It shouldn’t have taken Eddie being put on life support for me to meet Max. It makes me wonder about Eddie’s other siblings, and hell, about his biological father too. I ask Max about his and Eddies’ father, but Max deflects as though it was too sensitive of a topic. Weird considering our very first conversation was about him being pushed out of a moving car by his mother’s abusive boyfriend.

  The two of us exchange information once visiting hours are over, promising to stay in touch. I decide that once things settle down and Eddie is doing better that I am going to try and meet the rest of Eddie’s family like I should have done a long time ago.

  39

  I find myself sitting in Sylvia’s apartment as she prepares lunch for us both. She had invited me over, figuring that I could use the distraction. I really appreciate it. She was totally right. I really do need the distraction. My head is in a million different places, though. I do my best to pay attention to her, but I keep zoning out. There is just too much to think about. While she is dancing around in her kitchen, I am sitting in her little den on the sofa, staring mindlessly at the television.

  I don’t even know what is on the television right now because I’m not really watching it. I keep thinking about Eddie, about the lawsuit, the people who were killed taking my supplements, about Éclair, and now I can’t stop thinking about Eddie’s brother Max and the nameless other siblings I have never met. My life has just been one disaster after another after another. It just won’t stop, and I don’t see an end in sight any time soon.

  Eventually Sylvia is prancing into the den, two plates of homemade pizzas. I’m impressed. She had made the dough and the sauce from scratch. I smile as she puts the plates down on the little coffee table and hurries into the kitchen to fetch us some sodas. While she is searching for drinks, I take a bite out of the pizza. Damn. So she’s beautiful, athletic, smart, and she can make pizza from scratch? Where is this woman’s flaw?

  The pizza is great, and I tell her that, but I have not exactly had much of an appetite in the past several days. I eat it anyways, though –not wanting to disappoint her or make her think that I don’t like her cooking. There is just so much on my mind right now, and I think she can tell. She winds up scooting right next to me on the couch. “Are you okay?” she asks despite probably knowing that I’m not.

  “I will be eventually,” I say and give her a lazy peck on the cheek. “The past few weeks have just been a little rough.”

  “That’s quite an understatement. It’s okay, you know? It’s okay to admit that you’re struggling.” She smiles at me. “A lesser person would be about ready to check into the nut house after everything that has happened to you in the past few weeks.”

  “That’s because a lesser person might not have had you by their side the whole time,” I say with a smile. It’s true. She has definitely been my rock through all of the craziness. I mean, we’ve only just met, yet here she is making me pizza from scratch and letting me pretty much camp out in her apartment so that I have a place to sulk where I’m not completely alone. She’s a little charm.

  She smiles at me and puts her plate of pizza down. She takes a swig of her soda and then puts that down as well. Sylvia looks at me with these longing eyes, and I have to say that if she is wanting to hurry to the bedroom that I don’t think I could ever be emotionally damaged enough to turn that down, but she seems almost too afraid to ask or hint at it. I let her know I’m game next time she leans in to give me one of those reassuring kisses of hers; I slip my tongue into her mouth. It causes her to lean into it more, and the next thing I know she has slipped her hand between the buttons of my shirt to touch my chest.

  I start unbuttoning my shirt, and she tosses hers. Neither of us seem to have the energy to hurry back to the bedroom, but I like a good change of pace every once in a while. She removes her pants and after I toss the rest of my clothes, she climbs into my lap with her matching pink and silver undergarments still adorned. I blush. The pink and silver combination reminds me of Éclair, and I feel a hint of guilt run through my veins. It’s weird; I’ve never felt like I’m cheating on Éclair before. Both women, while I have obviously never met them, are perfectly aware of each other. Éclair and I have been sleeping around with other people ever since we first started our little love affair. And Sylvia knows I have myself an occasional fuck-buddy. The other night I had run out of Éclair’s house after sleeping with her because I had felt a weird sting of guilt. Why? Because I like Sylvia. Because I see a future with Sylvia, but I just can’t bring myself to start to think about settling down with everything going on. Yet, here I am, seeing Sylvia dressed in Éclair’s favorite colors, and it makes me hesitant.

  “Are you okay?” Sylvia asks, noticing me freeze up for a moment.

  I shake the weird and out-of-character thoughts I am having about Éclair and those gorgeous and completely unusual purple eyes of hers. I focus on Sylvia, and it only takes me a second before I am ready to go. I unsnap her bra, and she tosses her panties. She remains seated in my lap, her legs bent at my sides, as I slip myself up into her. Sylvia wraps her arms around my neck and works her hips up and down. I grab hold of her waist to give her some assistance.

  She kisses my lips and I smile under that kiss. Her lips are always so soft. I smell a hint of pizza on her breath, and by the way she is acting I can tell she is slightly self-conscious about it. “Oh, James, oui!” she shrieks, and I cringe.

  Did she just speak French? That is mine and Éclair’s thing. It’s like she’s trying to make me think about Éclair while I’m boning her. Now I can’t get Éclair out of my head. Why did Sylvia all of a sudden throw in a random French word? She’s not half French like Éclair, at least I don’t think she is. I recall that we had had our first date in France during the Tour de France. She must be fantasizing a little, but all that did is make me cringe again. I keep picturing Éclair now. Fuck! How the hell am I supposed to keep this shit up if every time I am with one of them I keep thinking about the other? I’m losing my mind. Plus, Sylvia is on top, another one of Éclair preferred methodologies. Just to make this feel a little less like I’m fucking Éclair, I wind up throwing Sy
lvia down onto her back on the couch. She doesn’t realize why I had the sudden change in preference, thank God, but she goes with it. She spreads her legs wide and pull me down onto her.

  I kiss her throat and breasts, making her moan loudly with each movement. “You’re amazing, you know?” I tell her, trying my best to focus on every inch of her completely flawless body just so I can get Éclair out of my head. I notice a few cuts and scrapes on her –probably from her latest equipment test run. She’s a good athlete, but if she is anything like myself she likes to push herself. I kiss her little scrapes, and she laughs at the gesture. She has a large bruise on her waist. “What happened there?” I ask.

  “Fell off my snowboard,” she says with a slight orgasmic cringe, “right into a damn tree, that is.”

  I press myself as far up inside her as I can, and she cries out excitedly just as I am cumming. We both collapse next to one another, curling up close together to enjoy one another’s body heat. I’m able to focus on just Sylvia now. Thank God. I really am starting to think I’m going to have to decide what I want soon. I would hate to accidentally call Sylvia Éclair in bed; it would probably hurt her feelings, and calling Éclair Sylvia would probably get me punched in the dick.

  40

  After spending the day at Sylvia’s, I decide to head back to my own apartment. She has an early appointment with a client tomorrow morning, so I don’t see any sense in keeping her up. And I know if I had stayed there we would have been up half the night because she’s just so damn tempting to me. I have my driver come and pick me up, and I can tell he is a little disgruntled seeing as how his along with all of my other employees checks have not showed up yet. I assure him my lawyer is working on getting everything straightened out, and I also thank him so much for bearing with me.

  We’re about halfway back to my apartment when suddenly my driver gets a little chattier than usual. He also has a bit of a smart mouth as it turns out. “Sir?” he asks.

  “Yeah?” I grumble from the back seat, my mind a million miles away from our conversation.

  “Do you know my name?” he asks.

  I did not expect that question. Do I really come off as that big of a prick to my employees? “Leonard Troft,” I say, “But your friends call you Leo.” I look at him through the rearview mirror, and I can tell he is embarrassed for asking the somewhat random question. I sit upright, “Is there something bothering you, Leo?” I ask.

  He grips the steering wheel tight. “My apologies, sir.” He says, realizing his smart mouth was a line crossed.

  “No, seriously,” I say with firmness in my tone, “Say what you want to say.”

  “There has been some talk around the company,” he says honestly, “to be honest, sir, we’re all just worried about losing our jobs… and whether or not you even give a damn about that.”

  Harsh. “I do,” I say. “I really do, Leo. I am still hoping this all gets straightened out –not just for my sake. Yours too. And everyone else at the company. I never expected anything like this to happen. I’m doing what I can.”

  “Of course, sir.” He says.

  I am dropped off in front of my apartment, and I say goodbye to my driver –trying to appear friendlier than usual. He’s always been a nice guy, but evidently he has not thought very highly of me. I sigh, realizing I probably deserve that. I head inside and into the lobby of my high end apartment building, heading towards the elevator when I spot an attractive young woman just awkwardly standing outside the elevator. I smile at her, knowing she does not live here and is probably a guest of one of my neighbors.

  As I pass by her and get on the elevator, she suddenly decides that she is going to get on the elevator as well. “What floor?” I ask her.

  “Top.” She says.

  The elevator doors close. “The top is a penthouse. It’s private.”

  “I know,” she says, “but that’s where you’re going, isn’t it?”

  “Um…” I smile at her. I am not really sure what to make of this. Women have been forward with me before, but not show up at my home and try to hitch a ride to my apartment without so much as a hello forward. For a second I wonder if I am about to get laid for the second time today, but then that thought quickly drifts away and is replace with self-disgust when I realize who this woman is. “Are you?” I ask, unable to form a complete sentence.

  “Kate.” She says, “One of Eddies’ sisters.”

  I feel a desire to claw my own eyes out because I had looked the woman up and down and attempted to imagine what she looked like under that knock-off petty coat of hers. I don’t ask her anything else, but I put in my keycard that allows access to the top floor. The elevator opens up into my penthouse, and she follows me inside. She looks around quite starry-eyed, clearly never having been somewhere this nice before.

  I’m not really sure why she has come here to talk to me, but I play the part of the kind host. “Can I get you something to drink?” I ask.

  She smiles and simply says, “Yes, thank you.”

  I go into my kitchen, “What’s your poison?”

  She frowns, “Water.”

  “Oh,” I say, “You’re not the-” I bite my tongue.

  “The alcoholic?” she says bluntly, “Yes. I see Eddie has spoken about us to you.”

  “Not much, to be honest.” I say, “But truthfully I have never given him much of a chance.” I pour her a glass of water, and she shyly comes over to the bar and sits herself down.

  “For the record,” she says while she plays with the glass, “I am nearly five years sober. That was a lifetime ago.”

  “Good for you,” I say as honestly as I can.

  She’s older than Eddie and I. I study her face for a moment and try to gather what I can. She has wrinkles under her eyes, yet she seems too young for that –probably due to her former alcoholism, but then again, I’m not so sure. Her hair is brown with a few gray strands here and there. There is a familiar gentleness about her that I can’t quite put my finger on just yet. I look at her purse, taking note that it’s a fairly large tote. I smile, realizing I figured something out. “You’re a mom?” I ask –recognizing that gentle, nurturing look in her face as something I had seen in my own mother as a kid. The large bag was probably full of emergency items that any mother would carry around.

  She smiles, “Yes. I do have kids.” She suddenly goes digging through that giant Mary Poppins style bag of hers and pulls out a wallet. She opens it up and shows me a picture of three of her children. A sixteen year old boy named Bobby, a fourteen year old girl named Lana, and another boy at age twelve named Jack. She mentions she has more children, but I don’t see a picture. Kate nervously sips on her water for a few minutes before our conversation goes anywhere. She tells me she had tried to go see Eddie at the hospital, but that they would not let her in to see him because she couldn’t prove that she knew him. “I’m not sure how Max got back there to see him,” she says, “But I know the hospital has been letting you visit, so I came by here to ask… if you don’t mind, well, you see, Bobby really wants to see Eddie. And so do I. Bobby is really worried about him.”

  I nod, “Of course. I’ll take you all by there.”

  “Oh, good. Yes, thank you.” She smiles at me, awkwardly avoiding eye contact. “I’m sorry,” she says, realizing her unusual behavior, “It’s just that, well, I hate that this is why we are finally meeting. Eddie always spoke so highly of you, and I never showed much interest in meeting you.”

  “It’s not all on you,” I say, “I didn’t even know you’re name or that you have children.” She does not say anything, so I keep talking. “So, is your son Bobby really close to Eddie or something?”

  Her face lights up suddenly. “Yes. Eddie got him back in school. He had dropped out about a year before Eddie found all of us. I tried everything I could to get him to go back to high school, but I don’t know what it is about Eddie, but he could talk a vegan into eating pork. He has taken Bobby to a dirt bike track a few times, and it’
s all he can talk about. He lets Bobby come out to his summer home with him sometimes to ride around on a bike he bought for him. Bobby’s so upset about all of this… Eddie had promised to come see him compete in a race, but from what Max has told me, it doesn’t sound like that is going to happen now. Eddie has even sat down and helped Bobby and Lana study for school before too. It’s just me, you see. My husband died… that’s what started the drinking….so it’s always been hard trying to balance my three kids by myself with work.”

  “I can only imagine,” I say, “What do you do?”

  She blushes. “I, um, wait tables.”

  “Oh yeah?” I question, “Where at?”

  “The Fox Hole.” She says.

  I frown. “The strip club?”

  She does this awkward flick of the writ, pointing her finger slightly as though to say that’s the one, you’ve figured me out. Holy hell, she’s a damn stripper… at a club I’ve fucking been to. I do my best to not think about the club. Dear God, I hope I’ve never gotten a dance from her from there… she might as well be a long lost sister. Kate looks absolutely humiliated. I shouldn’t have asked so many questions. “So…” I say nervously because I don’t really want to know the answer, but my stupid mouth won’t let me not ask, “Are you a stripper?”

  Kate crosses her arms, “I used to be. I just wait tables now. I busted my hip a while back, so I can’t really get up on the pole like I used to.”

  I try really, really hard for Eddie’s sake not to imagine that. I try to make light of the conversation. I try to joke. “What happened? Did you fall off the pole or something?”

  Wrong question. “No...” I can tell from the uncomfortable look on her face that I don’t want to hear the rest of her answer, but she seems to have just as bad of a problem of stopping herself from saying stupid shit as I do, “I used to, um, take clients in the back room, and this one guy got a little excited and he, um, well-”