Caressa’s Knees

by Caressa's Knees (html)

  She felt his hands in her hair, separating the curls where they floated on the surface. “I knew you could.”

  She looked over at his bare chest, and the moon shining on the water reflected a scar on the right side. “What’s this from?” she asked, grabbing onto his shoulders and running a finger over the reddened ridge.

  “My unrequited love. I got shot.”

  “What? Okay, wait. Explain.”

  “It’s a long story, Caressa.”

  She hopped in the water beside him, practicing some of the moves he’d taught her. “The night is young, and the fireflies are still out. Tell me what happened.”

  He hesitated, but then he said, “You remember, I used to work for a movie star.”

  “Yeah, Denise told me his name once. I can’t remember. James? Jethro?”

  Kyle snorted. “Jeremy. He’s a pretty big movie star. Anyway, one of the things I did as Jeremy’s assistant was…well…find him girlfriends. Women to date. He was a little too famous to go out and make passes at women in a bar or whatever.”

  “That’s kind of creepy.”

  Kyle laughed. “Honestly, it was really creepy, but he was a good guy, so I did what I could for him. Anyway, I found him this girl.”

  “The girl you were in love with.”

  “Not right away. I fell for her over weeks…months. A lot of stuff went on.”

  “She was cheating on him with you?”

  “No. Well, it’s hard to explain, but I can’t really tell you the specifics because I signed a confidentiality agreement.”

  “Ooh la la. It must have been pretty depraved stuff. If you had to sign a confidentiality agreement.”

  He looked at her. “I signed one to work with you.”

  “Did you? I didn’t ask you to.”

  “A lot of people are running around behind the scenes keeping the Caressa Express on the rails. Your lawyer required it. My agency’s lawyers would have required it too, if yours hadn’t.”

  “Oh.” She digested that interesting fact, feeling kind of foolish. Well, at least she didn’t have to worry about him blabbing about her finer meltdowns in some tell-all book someday.

  “Anyway, one of Jeremy’s deranged fans—”

  “He had more than one?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. But are you going to let me tell this story?”

  Caressa made a lip-zipping motion and wrapped her legs around his hips, letting him hold her in the water.

  “Anyway…this deranged woman showed up at his girlfriend’s hotel room to kill her. I tried to take her gun away and she shot me in the chest. Or maybe I shot myself. It was hard to say in the heat of the moment.”

  Caressa was flabbergasted. “God, you really might have died.”

  “I MIGHT HAVE. IT WAS EIGHT CENTIMETERS FROM MY HEART, THEY TOLD ME. BUT I WAS ACTUALLY FINE. I WAS ONLY IN THE HOSPITAL A FEW DAYS. SHE DIED. THE CRAZY WOMAN,” HE ADDED SOBERLY. “I HAD TO SHOOT HER.”

  She gazed into his eyes, saddened to see the shadow crossing over his face. “I’m sorry. But that wasn’t your fault. You were a hero.”

  “I guess.”

  She ran her fingers across a small blemish above the bullet scar. “What’s this from?”

  He cringed. “I had her name tattooed there afterward.” Caressa giggled softly, mostly from the beleaguered look on his face. “I know, embarrassing. Having it taken off was one of the best things I did in rehab.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why I got so crazy over her.”

  “Maybe because you saved her. That has to create a special bond between people.”

  He stared at her a long time. “I don’t know if it really works that way. But you know what, Caressa? I hardly think of her anymore.”

  Caressa couldn’t quite hold his gaze, it was so intense. “Because of me?” she asked quietly.

  He didn’t reply, only drew her through the black water to the shore. He laid her on the edge of the pond with her head resting on the damp grass and covered her with his body. She shivered, looking up at the moon, letting him love her and warm her.

  The fireflies had gone, lights shuttered for the night, but she knew she’d always remember that light shining out from her fingers, and the blinking above her as she floated under a Texas moon. Oh, Kyle, Kyle. His cock was pure bliss, and she arched her hips up to feel him spread and fill her. His hair tickled against her cheek and she licked his neck, tracing the straining tendons. She clutched at his back as he slid deep inside her, lapping against her like the dark, dark water.

  “Thank you for teaching me how to float,” she whispered, but she knew he didn’t hear.

  CHAPTER TWELVE:

  Fighting

  SHE GOT ON THE PLANE TO LONDON WITHOUT A BLIP. HE’D WORRIED ABOUT THE FLIGHT CHANGE ISSUE BUT SHE SEEMED TO HAVE FORGOTTEN IT COMPLETELY. OR PERHAPS SHE WAS ONLY DISTRACTED. THEIR SOJOURN TO SPUR HAD LEFT BOTH OF THEM WITH A LOT TO THINK ABOUT. SHE SLEPT NOW AS THEY FLEW ACROSS THE OCEAN, ONE HAND CLASPED IN HIS, THE OTHER RESTING AGAINST HER CELLO CASE. HE SEARCHED HIS CONSCIENCE AGAIN. NO, HE REALLY DID NOT WANT TO MAKE HER STOP PLAYING. HE JUST DIDN’T WANT HER TO MISS OUT ON OTHER THINGS.

  Like making a life with you, his conscience chided. Damn conscience. It never shut up. And she was still riddled with anxiety. When she didn’t practice, she fretted. When she had a less than perfect show, she suffered. When reviews weren’t one hundred percent raves, she shut down for hours after reading them. He didn’t want to make her quit playing, he just wanted her to realize that if she did want to quit, or just pull back a little, it would be okay.

  He was determined to make it okay. He would be there for her, because he couldn’t not be there for her. He would fend off Denise and all the music mavens who’d come after her, begging her to reconsider. He’d make her smile, make her laugh all day. He’d see to it that she never paced back and forth the length of a dressing room again, but instead played in ways that made her joyful. If that meant playing three hundred concerts a year, so be it. But maybe it meant playing smaller concerts or only a few concerts a year…whatever it took to make the stress and anxiety go away.

  “I like London,” she said drowsily beside him.

  HE LEANED TO KISS HER ON THE FOREHEAD AS SHE STIRRED AGAINST HIS SIDE. “I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE UP. THERE’S STILL AN HOUR OR SO TO GO. SLEEP SOME MORE IF YOU WANT TO.”

  “I MIGHT WEAR MY RED GOWN TOMORROW.”

  “THERE’S ANOTHER MEET-AND-GREET AFTERWARD.”

  “YOU TOLD ME THAT YESTERDAY.”

  “WELL, I’M NEVER SURE YOU’RE LISTENING,” HE CHUCKLED. “LONDON SHOULD BE COOLER THAN TEXAS ANYWAY. THEN WE’RE ON TO PARIS FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY.”

  “ARE THERE GOING TO BE FRENCH PASTRIES AT MY PARTY?”

  “YOU’RE GONNA BE SWIMMING IN THEM.”

  “FRENCH CHAMPAGNE?”

  HE FROWNED. “MAYBE.”

  “I’M GOING TO BE TWENTY-ONE, REMEMBER? OLD ENOUGH TO LEGALLY DRINK.”

  “DON’T REMIND ME.”

  SHE LAUGHED SOFTLY AND LEANED HER HEAD ON HIS SHOULDER. “WILL THERE BE BRIE AT MY PARTY? AND BAGUETTES?”

  “I’LL GIVE YOU A BIG, HARD BAGUETTE A LITTLE LATER, MA PETITE.”

  He pinched the inside of her thigh, enjoying her little squeak. She was in high spirits the rest of the flight and all the way to the London hotel, and then the cloak of duty and stress seemed to smother her again.

  Kyle ended up having to give Denise the report on their trip to Spur when Caressa shut herself in her room to practice. By the time he and Denise strong-armed her out to dinner, she was nearing hysteria over how unprepared she was and how badly she was going to bomb at the Royal Festival Hall. Kyle hauled her into the bedroom as soon as they returned to the hotel suite, intent on shutting down her tantrum before it started.

  “Caressa, I’m telling you right now, don’t even start this.”

  “I’m not prepared. I should have practiced more last week.”

  “If you aren’t prepared by now—Jesus. The tour�
�s over in less than a month, you realize.”

  “You don’t—” She stopped the words at his warning glare.

  “Listen here,” he said, emphasizing every word. “I do not want you to stress about this. Yes, we’re in Europe now. You did fine in the States and Canada. You’ll do fine here. Snap out of it.”

  She stayed in her room that night, and he tried not to be offended by it. She was better the next day, but worse the following. She had a meltdown at a media event, bursting into tears when a hapless reporter likened her to Jacqueline du Pré. “She died, and I’m the one who didn’t die,” she yelled. “Do your research!”

  He held her in the car afterward while she sobbed on his shoulder, trying to gauge where the moodiness was coming from. “Cara. Sweet pea. Is it only that the tour is ending soon?”

  “I don’t know,” she sobbed.

  “You know, I’m not going to leave when it’s over. When my contract with you is up.” He chuckled softly. “Not that we’ve been adhering to the contract guidelines anyway. But we’ll be back in New York together. We can go wherever you want from here.”

  “I don’t want to go anywhere,” she said petulantly.

  “Well, you’ll have to go somewhere.” He tried to kiss her but she shied away from him. They rode the rest of the way to the hotel in brittle silence, a silence that loomed too much in the following days. Kyle ached to reach for her, but she was armored again. He gave what support she would accept and spend his nights alone, not trusting himself to go to her.

  It wasn’t until the first morning in Paris that she finally crept into his room, her face pale and her eyes red from tears. She crawled into bed with him and buried her face against his neck and begged for forgiveness. He did the only thing he could think to do, which was forgive her. She pressed against him and kissed him and he responded even though he’d told himself he was done with it. That she was a hopeless case. A lost cause. He’d already nearly killed himself over one lost cause. He wouldn’t do it again.

  But he would. He did. He took her wrists in his fingers and squeezed them until she whimpered, and then he rolled on top of her and pinned her down with his cock. That, at least, he could do.

  She moaned and tried to reach for him, and in the end he let her wrap her arms around him and leave bleeding scratches on his back. A short rest, not even twenty minutes, and he was inside her again, seeking her heat and the wildness that entranced him.

  He grew rougher, pulling her tangled hair as he forced her up on top of him. They traded slaps as he sought to pin her wrists again and she fought to stay free of him, all the while riding furiously on his cock. After she came in a rolling, bucking movement, he grasped her breasts and tumbled her over, falling on top of her so her breath left her in a rush. He had a thousand things to say to her, and yet nothing to say to her, so he just fucked her until he emptied himself with a shuddering groan. She was crying when he looked at her, silent rivers of tears.

  “Don’t. Please don’t cry, Cara. I can’t stand this.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to.”

  “No, I’m just sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m this way. I really love you. I just… I just…”

  The words were like skewers. I just… I just… “It’s okay, Caressa,” he said, shushing her with a kiss. He brushed her hair back from her face and gently stroked the breast he’d squeezed earlier. “Don’t worry about it right now. Just know I love you too, okay? And I’m here for you, wherever things end up.”

  She nodded, sniffling. He pulled her closer, savoring the deeply-missed moments of her surrender. “It’s your birthday, sweet pea,” he whispered against her ear. “Happy twenty-one.”

  He went out later while she was practicing to buy a present for her. The one he’d gotten her wouldn’t work anymore. The one he was planning to get her probably wouldn’t go over too well either, but he found it anyway at a kiosk outside a Metro station. He bought a silver bag and tissue paper to wrap it in. By the time he got back it was almost time for an early dinner before the concert.

  Jeremy called him and they made plans to meet backstage afterward and then travel back to the hotel for Caressa’s party. Kyle was strangely nervous about seeing Jeremy again, and not just because Nell would be with him. It had been about a year since Jeremy had shaken him out of bed and made him get his shit together. Unfortunately, aside from maintaining staunch sobriety, Kyle wasn’t sure he’d done much to better himself.

  Backstage in the dressing room, Caressa looked lovely in the ivory gown she’d first worn in Cincinnati. It still took his breath away. Her hair was down, a wild mass of brunette curls like a mane, and her lips were painted a dark crimson. She looked a thousand years old, and yet a little girl. Twenty-one, such a young age. Denise was putting on a diamond pendant necklace she’d bought Caressa for her birthday—with Caressa’s own money. Kyle couldn’t judge though. Caressa was still paying him too, for all he did—and didn’t—do for her. He wasn’t sure anymore if it was a fair arrangement.

  Caressa paced a little, but mostly she stood still and looked beautiful. He told her so, in as equivocal a voice as he could. You look beautiful, Caressa. Meanwhile, he added in his mind, I loved fucking you today. Why won't you look at me like you did at Burger's Pond? What happened? But no answers were forthcoming from that pretty-doll face.

  Kyle watched from the wings as she took to the stage and mesmerized yet another audience. Paris at her feet. Tomorrow he’d take her to the top of the Eiffel Tower and let her look out at the city she’d charmed. Lit up at night, it would almost be like the fireflies.

  There had to be a way for them. There had to be a way to win her over. He peered out at the spellbound audience, and saw Jeremy and Nell in the second row. Good tickets. At least he could still do something right. They were watching Caressa with the same expression as everyone else, with awestruck, rapt attention. When Caressa played it was so hard to look away. He knew. By now, he knew every note of these concerts by heart.

  Afterward he stayed backstage to look after her cello. The conductor drew him into a conversation, enthusing about Caressa’s performance in rat-a-tat broken English. By the time Kyle arrived at the backstage lounge, Jeremy and Nell were already there with several members of the orchestra. Jeremy was deep in conversation with Caressa back in a corner.

  Kyle couldn’t see Caressa’s face, but Jeremy seemed delighted by her. He still looked the same. Broad shoulders, short blond hair. Those mesmerizing eyes. Kyle stuffed down jealousy and simply enjoyed the sight of the two most talented people he knew making one another’s acquaintance.

  Then Kyle felt a tentative hand on his elbow and turned to find himself face-to-face with Nell. She was wearing a Grecian-style pale green gown and a spectacular emerald necklace. She looked as fresh and angelic as ever, even after the things he’d done to her, the things Jeremy had done to her in darker days. He pushed those thoughts away also.

  “Hi, Kyle,” she said with a genuinely warm smile.

  “Hi, Nell.” He lifted his hands, at a loss for words for a moment. “You look amazing. Happy. I’m so glad.”

  “You look good too. The concert was wonderful. Thanks for getting us tickets.”

  “You’re most welcome.” In the tense silence, they both swung and looked at Jeremy, still chattering away with Caressa. Kyle chuckled softly. “You know what’s really funny? She has no idea who’s talking to her. No idea how famous he is.”

  “I think that’s why he’s enjoying her so much,” Nell said, laughing. “Look at him. What do you think they’re talking about? You, maybe. Jeremy told me you two were…”

  Something in his face must have made her stop. He shrugged and forced a half-smile. “We’re trying to work things out. She’s been really stressed with the tour and everything. You know how it is. But yeah…” He nodded, then shrugged again. “I don’t know.”

  Nell’s luminous green eyes searched his fa
ce. “Oh, Kyle.”

  He didn’t reply, didn’t need to. They used to fight and battle. Jesus, how he’d hated her and loved her, but in the end, they had this. Understanding. She took his hand down at his side, squeezed it very gently. “Everything will work out. Things have to work out for you. Otherwise the universe makes no sense. Does she love you too?”

  “I think so. At least I’ve got that going for me this time.” He mentally kicked himself for that indirect jab. He looked back at Nell, squeezing her hand harder and then pulling his away. “I’ll always love you, you know. Just because of all we went through. But I know you were never meant for me. I just hope… I always hope that you’re happy, wherever you are with him.”

  “I’m so happy, Kyle. And I hate to see you hurting, but at least it’s not over me anymore.” She was teasing him, now, while his heart was laid bare to her.

  “You always had a nasty streak, you know.”

  “I fully admit that.” She gazed in Caressa and Jeremy’s direction. “She’s looking over here at you, Kyle. And it’s a really nice look. Come on, introduce me to her.”

  They met Jeremy and Caressa in the center of the room. Jeremy hugged him, clapping him on the back, and then pulled away to straighten Kyle’s tie. “Looking pretty snazzy and important, young man.”

  “I try. I’ll never live up to you,” Kyle answered with a smirk, giving Jeremy’s bespoke tux the once-over.

  They fell into easy conversation, as if it hadn’t been a year since they’d seen each other. Caressa listened, and Kyle could tell when understanding dawned from the assessing look she turned on Nell beside her.

  Yes. She was the one. But she can’t compete with you.

  * * * * *

  “SO HE WAS YOUR OLD BOSS? HE’S THE BIG MOVIE STAR GUY?”

  CARESSA REALLY WANTED TO ASK ABOUT THE OTHER ONE, NELL, BUT SHE COULDN’T BRING HER VOICE TO FRAME THE QUESTION WITHOUT SOUNDING JEALOUS OR INSANE.

  KYLE LOOKED OVER AT HER IN THE DARKNESS OF THE HIRED CAR. “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’VE NEVER SEEN ANY OF HIS MOVIES. YES, HE’S A BIG STAR.”