Anything You Need (Cataclysm Book 1)

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Anything You Need (Cataclysm Book 1) Page 14

by Jerica MacMillan


  I give her a tight smile. “I’m sorry, I hate to be rude, but I just saw someone I need to talk to slip out the door. I need to catch him before he takes off. You understand.”

  Without giving her a chance to respond, I’m weaving my way through the crowd, making for the door across the room, hampered by people talking, waiters with trays, Mrs. Strickland stepping in front of me.

  “Marcus, I’m so glad you could make it tonight.”

  Shit. I can’t just blow her off. She’s more sympathetic to me than her husband, and I need to keep her that way. Taking the slim hand she offers, I give her my best smile. “Thank you. I wouldn’t miss it. I know how important these kinds of things are to your family.”

  “Indeed.” She withdraws her hand, her eyes scanning over me. “I must say, you clean up quite well. I’m sure Kendra helped, though.”

  Smoothing down my tie, my smile turns more forced. “Kendra helps me with a lot of things.” It’s neutral, it’s true, and it doesn’t start an argument with my girlfriend’s mother about my ability to dress myself. I’ve had this suit for a year, and while Kendra picked out the tie to match her dress, I helped pick out the dress, so it’s not like I’m a complete moron.

  She nods, knowingly. “And I’m sure you help her too. You two have been such good friends for so long.”

  “We have.” Where is she going with this?

  Stepping closer, Mrs. Strickland reaches for my arm, grasping my wrist, her expensive perfume surrounding us. “I know you’d do anything for her. I’ve watched you over the years. Seen the way you look at her. We both know that Kendra is a passionate girl. As with all passionate girls, sometimes her dedication can become … misplaced. You would be wise to make sure she returns the depths of your feelings before you get too involved.”

  Grinding my teeth, I scan the room, hoping that Kendra will reappear. But no luck. “Thanks for the advice,” I grit out, returning my focus to Kendra’s mom. “Speaking of Kendra, I need to find her.”

  Mrs. Strickland’s smile turns Sphinx-like. “She needed to use the restroom. James’s announcement was quite a shock to her. I’m sure you must have noticed. She needed a minute to compose herself.”

  “Right. Of course.” I shove my hands in my pockets so I don’t physically move her out of my way. After her cryptic warnings, I want to find Kendra more than ever, but I also don’t want to piss her mom off. I need her to realize I’m in this for the long haul, that I won’t be cowed by their wealth or their status, but that I’m not an asshole either. I tilt my head toward the door. “I’ll go check on her.”

  She arches an eyebrow like she’s questioning the wisdom of my decisions, but doesn’t stop me.

  I give her a nod, forcing myself to be pleasant. “Good to see you again.”

  “You too, Marcus.”

  Slipping past her, I don’t let anyone else waylay me, edging around chatting groups of people and not making eye contact with anyone, shutting the lid on the weird conversation with Mrs. Strickland to pull out and figure out later, my focus entirely on those doors. Once I push through, I scan left and right, not seeing anyone or anything. No sign of Kendra or Mitchell.

  A small placard on the wall indicates the restrooms are to the left, so I head that way, unsure where else to look. He wouldn’t have dragged her somewhere. Would he? I mean, the guy’s shady as fuck, and I’m convinced he’s up to something, but he’s not a complete moron. Even if he thinks I’m too stupid to notice, her parents would kick up a fuss if their daughter suddenly went missing.

  As these thoughts whir through my mind, arguing with myself over the likelihood of Mitchell being not only a stalkery douche but maybe also a kidnapper, the door to the ladies’ room opens and Kendra comes out.

  She stops in her tracks when she sees me, her face a little pale, but her smile serene. “Hey. What are you doing out here? I was just coming back in to find you. Do you need to use the restroom?”

  Stepping in close, I run my hands down her bare arms, looking her over. “You alright? Your mom said you were shocked by the announcement”—as though I couldn’t see that for myself—“and that you needed a minute. I was coming out to check on you.”

  She slides her arms around my waist under my suit jacket, pressing her face to my chest. My arms wrap around her reflexively, and I rest my cheek on the top of her head, feeling her take a deep breath before lifting her head to look up at me. “Yeah. I’m fine. Like Mom said, James’s retirement announcement was a big surprise. I was upset that my parents didn’t tell me. I’ve been over there two or three times a week helping my mom with planning her benefit dinner.” She shakes her head, her eyes downcast, the corners of her mouth pulling down. “She said that Dad doesn’t think I have a vested interest in the business since I’m an adult and not directly involved.”

  I rub a hand up and down her back, not sure what to say to comfort her, wanting to bring up Mitchell but not wanting to upset her more. So I swallow it down. He’s not out here. Maybe it was a coincidence that I saw him follow her out. Maybe he was just leaving, needing to take a phone call or who knows what? Maybe she was already in the bathroom before he even made it to the hallway and she didn’t see him.

  Pulling her in close again, I press a kiss to her lips, enjoying the way her fingers dig into my back at the contact. When I pull back, she doesn’t look as upset as before, and the color is back in her cheeks. Not quite the smiley, happy Kendra I’m used to, but I’ll take it for now. I’m making it my mission for tonight to cheer her up, distract her from the bomb that got dropped.

  “Do you wanna get out of here? Or do we need to stay longer?” I’m more than ready to leave, but I know she has family obligations, even if I don’t like them. If we’re going to be together, this is part of the deal. And if I really want her parents to quit sniping at me, the only way to do that is to stick around, keep showing up, not convince Kendra to dodge her responsibilities.

  But with everything that’s gone on tonight, I might go crazy if I have to stay here much longer.

  Kendra bites her lip and looks past me to the doors, then shakes her head. “No. I think we’ve been here long enough. I’ll just tell my mom we’re leaving and we can get our things from the coat check. Let’s go.” She leads me by the hand back to the doors, where I pull them open, escorting her in with a hand on her back, following her through the crowd to where her mom is talking with some other women her age, each of them holding a glass of champagne in their hands.

  Kendra leans in close to her mom and says something, which has Mrs. Strickland turning, her brows creased in displeasure. I can’t make out their low conversation very well over the surrounding noise, but I think I catch Kendra saying something like, “if I have no real interest in the company anymore, then there’s no real reason for me to stay.”

  Burn. Go, Ken.

  Kendra’s pissed at her parents, and I can’t say I blame her. She’s been dragged to these things since she was a little girl, paraded around in frilly dresses then sent off for the evening with the nanny. Once she was a teenager, she was expected to attend as part of the family.

  But now? She’s on her own, cut off from the flow of information, but still expected to come to all the functions like she matters while being treated like she doesn’t?

  I’d be pissed too. Hell, I am pissed. And I definitely don’t want to stick around any longer than necessary.

  More words pass between Kendra and her mom, too low for me to make out, but Mrs. Strickland’s expression isn’t happy. Until she looks up and catches me watching. She smooths her face into bland placidity, taking a sip of her champagne. She nods to Kendra, says one more thing, squeezes her daughter’s arm, and turns back to her friends.

  Kendra slips her arm through mine, tugging me back to the doors. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Kendra

  I’m freaking out.

  Completely.

  Freaking.

  Out.

  Th
e only thing keeping me together is Marcus’s arm around my waist as we wait for our car to take us home.

  Before tonight, I never would’ve dreamed of leaving something like this early. Before tonight, I expected to be kept in the loop of all major developments at my dad’s company.

  My mouth twists in a bitter grimace as I relive all the bombs that exploded in front of me tonight.

  Bomb #1: James Cunningham is retiring.

  Bomb #2: My dad doesn’t think I’m important enough to tell me things.

  Bomb #3: Mitchell Cunningham says he has proof my dad is guilty of fraud. Incriminating documents kept in a locked safe.

  He followed me out after my mom told me that Dad thinks I don’t have a vested interest in the company. Caught up to me on the way to the bathroom.

  “You know, if we were still together, you’d have known this was coming,” he taunted me. “I know it kills you that you didn’t know ahead of time.”

  I whirled around. “Not as much as it would kill me to be shackled to you.”

  He laughed like I’d just made a funny joke. “I’ll enjoy breaking that feisty spirit.”

  “Like you’d ever get the chance to do that,” I fired back. “In what universe would I ever date you again?”

  He leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, lazy and arrogant, his eyes roaming my body, making me feel like I needed a shower. “The universe where you want to keep your father out of jail.”

  When I gaped at him, speechless, he nodded sagely, an arrogant smirk playing across his lips. “Fraud,” he mouthed. “I have proof.”

  I shook my head, finally finding my voice. “I don’t believe you.”

  He shrugged, like it didn’t matter to him one way or another, straightening from the wall and buttoning his suit jacket. “You don’t have to believe me. Like I said, I have proof.” He closed the distance between us, invading my space. It took everything in me to let him, not back away like a terrified animal, all the while my lizard brain screamed at me to run. He dipped his head, and I turned mine, not wanting to let him kiss me. He chuckled, low and mean. “Meet me at that coffee shop you like tomorrow at three. I’ll show you the proof. And once you’re convinced that I’m telling the truth, we can negotiate our terms.”

  Before I could force my throat to work, to give him some kind of answer, he left.

  Even now, riding the elevator to my condo wrapped in Marcus’s arms, I have to keep my hands clenched tightly to keep them from trembling. Mitchell’s a complete asshole, but he wouldn’t be that confident unless he had some kind of proof to back up his claims.

  Of course I’ll insist on seeing whatever evidence he says he has before agreeing to anything.

  Stepping out of the elevator, I let Marcus unlock the door while I swallow down the bile rising in my throat. A terrible sick feeling churns my stomach. I know what Mitchell’s terms will be. And no way I can see to tell him no.

  Once the door closes behind us, I pull Marcus to me, fusing our mouths together. If he’s startled by my sudden attack, he doesn’t show it, his hands immediately going to my hips and sliding to my ass, hoisting me up and pinning me to the wall next to my hall closet.

  Our tongues duel as I try to shove his coat and suit jacket off his shoulders while grinding against him.

  I want him. I’m desperate for him in a way I haven’t been before, and that must come through somehow because he eventually breaks the kiss, his lips red and swollen from our kisses and my lipstick, his hair disheveled, his pupils blown, but his face full of concern.

  “Hey,” he says softly, pressing a light kiss to my own swollen lips. “What’s going on, Ken?”

  My heart twists at the casual shortening of my name. He’s the only one who calls me that. The only one who’s ever called me anything but Kendra. And the knot of dread in my gut pulls tighter knowing I’m meeting with Mitchell tomorrow about my father’s supposed illegal activities.

  I still can’t believe my dad could’ve done anything against the law.

  But I push that away, needing Marcus now more than I ever have.

  I shake my head, reaching for him again. “Nothing,” I lie. “I just … I love you and tonight was crappy and being with you makes everything better.” At least that last part is all true.

  He lets my legs down, my body sliding between his and the wall at my back till my feet touch the floor, and he leans back enough to shake his coat and jacket the rest of the way off, leaving them in a heap on the floor. Cradling my face in his hands, he kisses me deeply, stealing my breath.

  I clutch at his shirt, fingers yanking at the knotted silk at his throat, desperate to get his clothes off, to have him inside me, driving out all the bad that I want to pretend isn’t real, isn’t lurking on the edges, waiting to consume me tomorrow.

  We have this one night where everything is still perfect, and I’m not going to waste it.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Marcus

  Kendra claws at me like a woman possessed. Her kisses are passionate and frenzied, her fingers dragging at my clothes, fumbling with my buttons, yanking on my belt, finally succeeding in undoing my tie and dragging it out of my collar.

  After that I catch her hands in mine, pinning her wrists above her head, still against the wall in the entryway, kissing the shit out of her. I wouldn’t say our encounters before this have been tame, but she’s never been this aggressive.

  I’d be lying if I said it isn’t hot as fuck.

  I know she’s upset, and I’m sure that’s what’s driving this, but if this is what she needs to feel better, then who am I to deny her something that’s within my power to give her? I’ve always told her I’ll give her whatever she needs.

  Ripping my mouth from hers, I take a step back and pull her away from the wall. “Hands at your sides. Don’t move.”

  She sucks in a breath, her eyes glittering with arousal and something else, but she nods. I reach for the belt of her coat, quickly undoing the half-loop knot, unbuttoning it and sliding it off her shoulders to fall to the floor. Sweeping her up in my arms, I carry her through the apartment to the bedroom where I toss her on the bed.

  She lets out a little squeak as she bounces softly in the middle of the large, pillowy mattress. When she moves to sit up, I shake my head. She reclines back, her eyes never leaving me as I finish unbuttoning my shirt, stripping it off and dropping it on the floor. My shoes, socks, pants, and underwear follow close behind. Reaching for her, I take her hands to pull her up. “Stand up.”

  Obediently, she rises from the bed and steps away from it, shivering in anticipation. I stroke my fingers over her collarbone as I move around behind her, sweeping her hair to one side and lowering the zipper. Once it’s all the way down, I push the dress down her arms, stepping closer to nip at her ear and her collarbone.

  She pulls her arms out, wiggling her hips to push the dress down, and it falls on the floor. Taking her hand, I lead her to one side, stepping free of the fabric, leaving her dressed in a lacy bra, matching thong, thigh high stockings, and expensive heels.

  Despite her frenzied pace earlier, I take my time, tracing the edges of her bra along the cups, over her shoulders, and across her rib cage, finally reaching the hooks in the back and popping them free, brushing the straps down her arms, returning to the front to help the cups drop free of her breasts.

  I’d planned on finishing undressing her first, but the sight of her perfect breasts, her pretty pink nipples, is too irresistible. Cupping one, I bend until I can capture the tip in my mouth, flicking it with my tongue then sucking hard.

  Kendra gasps, arching her back, offering herself to me, her fingers coming up to clasp my head, fingernails raking over my scalp.

  Moving to give the other side the same attention, my free hand slides down between her thighs, and she steps her feet apart to give me more access. I rub her over the sheer fabric of her tiny panties, enjoying the sounds she makes at the combined stimulation.

  “Please please plea
se,” she whimpers, and since she’s asking so nicely, I give her what I know she wants. Tugging the damp fabric aside, I sink two fingers inside her, making her suck in air again, her chest heaving under my mouth.

  When I straighten, she makes another little sound, this one more like distress, and I give her a wicked grin. “On the bed.”

  With her still impaled on my fingers, I help her back up until her thighs hit the bed, guiding her back to lie down. I pump my fingers into her for a moment, watching her writhe, legs spread, but even though they’re easily pushed out of the way, I want her panties gone.

  She whimpers her displeasure again when I slide my fingers out of her, but I bend to kiss her. “Shh. You’ll get everything you want soon enough.”

  Her hand wraps around my head, and she pulls me in for another deep kiss, all tongue and teeth and desperation. But I’m not going to be deterred.

  Fingers hooking the waistband, I slide her panties down her legs and toss them to the side. I wrap my arms around her thighs and pull them up, my tongue making a long sweep from opening to clit. She shivers under me, her fingers threading through my hair again as I lap up her juices, spearing my fingers inside her again, wasting no time in tipping her over the edge, giving her the orgasm I know she craves. The first of many tonight, if I have my way.

  And I don’t think I’ll hear any objections from Kendra.

  Wiping my face with my hand, I rise over her, line up, and sink inside. She wraps herself around me, arms around my shoulders, ankles hooked at the small of my back, the heels of her shoes digging in, spurring me on, and despite my desire to make her forget her own name from so many orgasms, I don’t do anything to draw this out. Caught up in her frenzy, her desire, I drive into her again and again, riding her to my own release, crying out her name as I come inside her.

  She clasps my body to hers, not letting me go even as I soften inside her, making a mess on the comforter. But if she doesn’t care, why should I? So I sink into her kiss, relishing her soft skin, the press of her breasts against my chest, her tongue sliding against mine. Slower and softer now that the sharp edge of her hunger has been dulled.

 

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