The Broken Sister (Sister #6)

by Leanne Davis

  There was something intimate and nice about the low lighting of his place. The deep luxury of the suede couch she sunk into and the effects of the wine warmed her inside to out. Her eyelids were weighing down on her eyeballs. She rubbed at their gritty feel and glanced at the clock. They had been talking for four hours straight. He had opened her up like the bottle of wine. She’d gone on and on about her family, her mother, Donny, her sister, and Julia. Her extended family and Olivia. She had purged it all to him. Why? Because he asked. And he had a way of making her want to tell him.

  She yawned and he noticed. He took her glass and set it next to the now-empty wine bottle. He stood and put his hand out. She stared up at him. All comfort fled again. She wasn’t drunk either. She was maybe, at most, relaxed. She put her hand in his and let him pull her up and she followed him, without a word, down the hallway and into what was obviously his bedroom. He clicked the light next to him and a single lamp flipped on. It made golden rings and a soft, lovely glow in the huge room, with a cathedral ceiling, king-size bed, and big, heavy, matching side tables. The bed was even made. It was as tidy as a hotel room too. Did he do that? There was a decided lack of anything personal. Not even a family picture. The walls were cream colored and a huge five by five foot abstract painting filled the wall opposite the bed. Dramatic, simple, stately, and sophisticated. Art. She stepped towards it, admiring it. She turned and found several more along the opposite wall. They were not known to her. But she liked them. One looked like a digital print of someone’s face but on closer inspection was actually oil painted fragments of an abstract rendering of a woman’s face. It was fascinating, if not odd. “Are these originals?”

  “Yes, gifts from my mother, when I moved in. Remember I told you how nuts she is about art? Patron of galleries and new and upcoming artists’ kinds of nuts. She hosts artists from all around California. It’s all lost on me. But I figured the colors brightened the room up.”

  “You don’t mention her much. Your mom. What’s she like?”

  He stepped so he was near her. Her breath caught as she glanced at his profile while he seemed to be staring, as if zoned out and lost in deep, contemplative thought at the painting before them. “Not like yours.”

  “What isn’t? This painting or your mother?”

  “Mother.”

  “Well, that clarifies it.”

  He glanced down at her. “My mom isn’t warm, caring or concerned. She doesn’t worry or nurture. She left that to… well, no one, I guess. She is kind of like this painting is. Abstract to me. I can see her. I’m aware she is my mother, but I can’t really define her place in my life as being that. She was a blur to me. A complete and total stranger. I suppose I would say I love her, but I don’t care if I see her or interact with her. And honestly? She’s always felt that way to me, and I don’t think she’d say anything different about me. It used to bother me, but it’s been this way for so long, I think I kind of buried it.”

  “What about your dad?”

  “Dad is a total player. Every lover is younger and younger. It was always that way. He wasn’t very good at being faithful… or around. It was like I had both parents there, technically, for the most part, but I don’t remember ever really interacting with them. They didn’t do anything to raise me. They provided housing, goods, and food and all that. But they didn’t do anything to help me emotionally or otherwise. Does that make sense? We are all like strangers who share a name. We meet up on holidays sometimes and it’s an almost glacial experience. For example, this year they are traveling for Christmas and it doesn’t occur to them that leaves me alone. Yet, there are no angry voices, or any kind of yelling or screaming whenever we do finally manage to see each other. We kill each other with our politeness. I always hated that part of how we interacted, but I fall right into line with it. Stupid, isn’t it? What we learn and perpetuate.”

  “There had to be someone. You seem pretty emotionally together, balanced, almost healthy. I mean, it’s an attractive part of you. Are you telling me you got that way despite being nearly ignored by your own parents?”

  A small smile turned up one side of his mouth. “You find that attractive about me, huh?”

  She rolled her eyes at his teasing. “You also know you are plenty attractive, both physically and otherwise. I don’t sense a general lack of self-confidence. So answer my question. How? How did you get this way?”

  “My grandparents. They did the raising of me that mattered. My grandma died a decade ago, but until then she was gentle, loving, and always had time for me. My grandfather was much harsher and harder to please, but he was always there for me. Every single day of my life I knew I could count on him. He wanted to take the time to teach me things, from how to throw a baseball to which college I should attend. He’s exacting and expects a lot, but in that expectancy, I found the motivation to want to please him. He made me ambitious because I wanted to attain things and make him proud. He took the most interest in me, over my… sister. I was definitely his favorite, which helped. Maybe they kept me from being as cold and fake as my parents.”

  Kylie leaned out and set her hand on his arm. “Since the first time I talked to you I haven’t gotten the feeling there was anything cold or fake with you.”

  His gaze zeroed in on her fingers, staring down as if he didn’t recognize her hand. She was startled when he suddenly glanced up, seeming to drill her with her glare. “Maybe I’m faking everything. Maybe you don’t know me at all.”

  She stepped back. “I probably don’t. But it seems like I get a feeling off you, an essence of what you’re like. I don’t think you’re fake with me.”

  His shoulders slumped and he suddenly turned and sat on the edge of his bed. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead into his hands, almost staring at the carpet. His strange, almost out of nowhere switch to acting so morose left her staring around the room, at a loss of what just happened to so change his mood. Maybe it was all his talking about his family. “Tristan?”

  He didn’t answer. She came towards him and got on her knees before him, clasping her hands around his and tucking herself in between his legs. He was forced to lean back enough to look at her. “What’s the matter? Do you want me to leave?”

  He touched her face, cupping her jaw and running his thumb over the line of her jaw bone and up to her lower lip. A deep sigh escaped his lips. “No. I don’t want you to. I don’t want you to leave at all.”

  She wasn’t sure of his morose mood or what brought it on. Thinking about his family? His parents? She understood that. For so many years her father’s memory could drag her into a near tailspin. She would feel suddenly consumed with an overwhelming urge to run away from her life. But there was never anywhere to go. So she’d just stay there. But no tears ever released from her. No words seemed right to be spoken. So she just did… nothing. Nothing came out of her but it felt better not to let anything come in.

  The air around them was quiet. It was a softness, an ease, and tingles seemed to prick each hair on her arms and the back of her neck.

  He leaned forward and his mouth found hers. Softly kissing her, their lips clung and felt and tasted each other. His hands cupped her jaw before he lifted her gently off the floor and stood up with her so they were standing at the edge of his bed. She lifted her arms to circle around his neck and cling to him as their mouths opened and their tongues seemed to meet and ignite like a welder applied to metal. He pulled the rubber band from her hair and tugged it out. Her straight mass of hair ran through his fingers. He gently rubbed her scalp and finally cupped the back of her neck to tilt her head how he wanted it and then their mouths fully opened to each other. She sighed and her knees felt weak. Her entire energy was focused on the feel of his mouth to hers so she forgot to worry about things like standing up. They kissed on and on. Hands ran down the front of her and she sighed at the pleasure and pressure. He found the edge of her thermal top and pushed at it. They parted long enough to slowly lift it up and over her head. She let h
er hands go up so he could peel off the long sleeves. His gaze followed the movement of her top to the tips of her fingers before his gaze, dark and stormy, trailed down her arms, shoulders, and to her standing there in her small, black bra. He leaned forward to bring his hands around her. He unclipped her bra so it slid down her arms and she let it drop to the floor between them. He stared at her. He stepped forward then and his mouth came to her neck, her collarbone, and slid down her front as his arms wrapped around her.

  His tongue and lips trailed down her neck, gliding over her skin until he was at her breast and he took her tight nipple into his mouth. Her head fell back as the warmth surrounded her and had her gasping as she clutched at his head, pulling him tighter against her as her fingers tossed the thick strands of his hair all around.

  He lifted his face off her chest and glanced up at her. His gaze was intense and heated, staring hard at her as his hands came to the waistband of the black cargo pants she’d put on after sledding. He didn’t look down as he undid the top button. Her stomach flexed against his fingers as he worked. The rasp of her zipper was loud against the hushed tone in the room. He never once glanced down to his hands or her, but kept his gaze solidly on hers. It was both oddly erotic, intense, and disconcerting. It was like he was stripping bare so much more than her skin. Sure, he was undressing her, but it was his focus on her that had her blinking, dropping her eyelids down to break the way it felt like he was staring into her soul.

  His hands parted her pants and she shivered as his palms slid across the sides of her black underwear. His index fingers both followed the line of her panties from the front up along her thigh and down along each butt cheek. He paused where it all came together and pressed. She drew in a sharp breath and shut her eyelids. She was well aware of his entire focus for the moment. He lifted his hands and she almost cried out at the loss of the warmth. But he finished pushing her pants down. She stepped out of them, leaning down to discard her socks.

  He sat now on the edge of the bed, making his gaze even with the tops of her panties. His hands came back to her flesh and circled her waist. He followed the line of each jutting hipbone. She kept her eyelids tightly down.

  Things… traveled through her thoughts. Fleeting. All derogatory. All the things that guys had said to her in this moment. The moment they saw her without the bulk of the layers she usually wore. The dark cloth that made it hard to define her body lines. The moment most realized she was skeletal thin. Scary thin. Emaciated. Shocking. Ugly. Repulsive. Disgusting. She’d been called all of it by both men and women.

  Still, she worried what he’d think of her stomach. For it was concave and she tipped the scale at ninety-eight pounds while being five foot five. Many found it unappealing in a sexual way. They found her sickening.

  She waited but he didn’t pause there. He didn’t say anything. Her thoughts didn’t have time to continue because he dropped his fingers down along her panties. This time, one in the front and one in the back, and her breath expelled as he pushed against her sex from the front while he cupped her butt from the back. Her mouth opened in shock as his fingers found the edge of the material and dipped inside right to the wet edge of her. She had to lean forward to brace herself, holding herself up with his shoulders. “You like that?”

  “Yes.” She barely could speak. Her heart was racing while her blood stirred. She shifted, parting her legs more. He took the sides of her panties in each hand and pulled them down her thighs enough to get them out of the way. He stared at her. She was swollen with need now. She closed her eyes, gritting her teeth to keep from begging him to touch her.

  “I like you like that.”

  He took her waist and spun her around as he stood up behind her and pulled her back against his chest. His entire body engulfed her. She was half the width of him. His hands came around her and one cupped her small breast in his palm as his thumb ran back and forth over it, and his other hand shifted forward and his fingers sunk into her. She cried out as the feelings assaulted her as fast as his fingers touched. Her weight fell more heavily onto his hand and he braced her against his back, holding her weight up as his fingers worked her into a orgasm that had her screaming his name, her head flung back against his shoulder, inciting his mouth to crush down over hers in a harsh meeting of lips, tongue and teeth scraping as she fell apart in his arms nearly completely mindless. She went nearly limp against him after the orgasm ripped through her, leaving her weightless in his arms. He had to catch her as she came off her toe-curling high.

  “There are so many ways I want to do this to you.”

  “Okay,” she mumbled weakly. Like she’d say no to that.

  His lips came to her hairline and he kissed her almost sibling-like. The gentleness of it totally at odds with the moment. He chuckled and spun her around. “You are like a live wire to touch.” His mouth descended on hers in a long kiss that had her swooning towards his body heat.

  He pushed her back enough to tug at the black sweater he wore so well over his broad, shapely shoulders. He dropped it and the t-shirt underneath. He had a wide, hairy chest. She reached her hand out to touch him. He grinned at her before he worked at his jeans.

  She put her hands out. “Let me.”

  He grinned and put his hands up. “Okay, I’ll let you.”

  She tugged at the button and zipper and reached in to find the warmth of him tucked hot and hard against his stomach. She liked the feel of him and let her hand rest there. He moaned and she glanced up at him. Every inch of his body felt and looked appealing to her. The blond hairs of his chest, the warmth of his skin. She released him and leaned down to help him get out of his jeans. He jutted out towards her and she got to her knees and kissed his thighs and finally she licked him. She put her lips against the end and dragged him into her mouth. He moaned and his hands moved all around her back in restless energy. She gripped his thighs with her hands and began to work him. His hips thrust towards her mouth. Her head moved as frantically as her body wanted to be over him. The sounds of appreciation coming from his mouth was enough to make her grow wet again.

  Suddenly his hands were under her arm pits and he was lifting her up, her mouth sliding off him with a pop. “The first time I’m coming into you,” he mumbled as he put her on the bed while he went to his night table and fumbled around, coming back with condoms. He threw them down as he came next to her and his mouth found hers once more. He fumbled around trying to put the condom on.

  He spread her legs and his gaze was hot right on the core of her. He leaned down and ran his tongue along her. She gasped and her entire body shuddered and color seemed to spark through her bloodstream.

  Then he lifted his face from her and kissed her up her chest until he latched onto her tit and his big body filled her up in one quick, hot hard lunge. She took all of him and gasped out his name. Her body shook at the pressure as he slid out and in before he shifted and suddenly they were facing each other. She was straddling him and he was staring into her eyes as her arms went around his neck and they were face to face, their bodies touching in the most intimate ways while their gazes locked. She’d had the orgasms before, and in all ways. But she had not done so while in a gaze-lock like this. The intense way he was watching her, experiencing this with her. The way it created this intense and almost embarrassing intimacy. She wasn’t sure how to handle it. They groaned and he suddenly pulled her tight against his chest as he held her steady and shoved up into her over and over until she was screaming his name and riding him.

  He came just after she did, gasping her name and holding her steady as his body seemed to vibrate and jerk into hers. Sweat beaded their bodies slick. His arms were around her until he pushed her back to stare into her eyes.

  She didn’t smile. Neither did he. It felt… beyond that. Beyond smiling. The atmosphere between them felt heavy, deep somehow.

  His hands came up to her face and he outlined her lips with his finger. “You’re—”

  She waited for it. Hot. A great fuc
k. A good lay. Skinny. What? She couldn’t picture what Tristan Aderly would say to her. After this. She’d heard it all. She’d also had guys hurl snarling insults at her in these moments.

  “Beautiful.”

  She almost pushed him off her, thinking he was being sarcastic. Rude. Mocking her. But no, his gaze was ensnared in hers. And there was only that same look in his eye. He leaned forward and the gentlest of kisses touched her lips. “You’re really beautiful, Kylie.”

  He was still in her. Her breath held for a moment. It was the first time anyone had ever said such a thing to her. Besides her mother. Her mother had told her that.

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m terrible at finding original ways to say it. But it’s true. There is something about you…” His shoulders shrugged. “I can’t even define it. But it’s beautiful in you.”

  She licked her lips as her gaze darted down and she shook her head. “No one’s ever said such a thing to me. If you say it all the time, to every woman you sleep with, I don’t care. I’m just glad you said it to me.”

  His knuckle hooked under her chin. He nudged her gaze up. “It wasn’t a line. It was a moment. I wanted to say it, to you, and only you.”

  “Most don’t define me as beautiful, especially when I’m naked.”

  He his eyebrows wrinkled. “I didn’t have sex with just your body. I had sex with you.”

  Then his golden grin came back, like the skies had parted to make way for the sun once more. He gently lifted her off him and back onto his bedspread. He tossed the condom. She worried about it on that pristine flooring of his. But he just shuffled all around until he found the edge of his blankets. “Come here.”

  She didn’t snuggle. Never had. Ever. No. She slept with guys. She did this all just fine. Even the naked part with her skinny ass. But staying? Together? He seemed to realize she wasn’t following. He swore softly. “You’re not trying to plot how to leave, are you?” His tone was increasingly offended.