Passionate Kisses

by Various

  As she listened to Brian’s stilted conversation, which ranged from careful nonchalance to youthful exuberance, she couldn’t help glancing John’s direction a few times. Each time, she found him watching her, which slightly appeased her ridiculous feeling of rejection. She couldn’t believe he had a friggin’ date. She lifted her gaze toward the high ceiling, willing herself not to cry.

  “So, Brian,” she said, her voice thick with unshed tears. “Has John been seeing that—” tramp, bimbo, phony-baloney, slut, “woman long?”

  Brian shrugged beneath her hand. “A while, I guess.”

  Sam swallowed. “Are they serious?”

  He shrugged again. “Dunno. She was at his house when I went over there last Saturday morning. I think she’s over there a lot.”

  She tried to swallow again, but couldn’t get past the lump in her throat.

  John watched Sam dance with Brian. She looked more beautiful than he remembered. He’d always heard that pregnant women glowed. It was true. That sexy red dress was the perfect backdrop to her exotic looks. Why hadn’t she told him she was coming? He wouldn’t have invited Dusty had he known—

  “Old girlfriend?” Dusty asked, giving him a mildly jealous look. She had no cause to be jealous. One, because he had only gone out with her a few times — hardly enough to lay claim to him — and two, because there was nothing going on between him and Sam.

  “Not exactly. We went out a few times, but this is the first I’ve seen her since April.” Although I dream about her night and day.

  Dusty smiled and tightened her arms around his waist. Did she have to hang on him like this? Her implants pressed against his ribs. That thought led him to remembering the softness of Sam’s real breasts. And that thought led him to remembering the feel of her body beneath his. And that led him to remembering— Christ. This evening was turning into a total nightmare.

  Dusty spoke about about her routine for an upcoming fitness competition and how she’d hired a new choreographer. After a few moments of hearing nothing she said because he was watching Sam, John put his hand on Dusty’s arm and glanced at Alex and his date. “Will you excuse me a moment?” He didn’t miss Alex’s sly grin.

  John wove his way through the elegantly-clad dancers until he was right behind Sam. He reached over her shoulder and tapped Brian. “May I cut in?” The boy looked relieved and quickly let go of Sam. “Thanks, sport.” He punched Brian lightly in the arm and was rewarded by a shy smile. This kid was really growing on him.

  John pulled Sam into his arms and wanted to sigh with the pleasure of having her there again. “Hello,” he said, staring into her chocolate-colored eyes.

  “Hi.” Her gaze didn’t quite meet his.

  “It’s good to see you, Sam. It’s been a long time.” He pushed back slightly and swept his eyes over her. “You look terrific.” Especially at his higher vantage point, he thought, keeping his gaze carefully averted from her cleavage. “How are you feeling?” Pulling her close again, he almost gasped when their hips inadvertently touched. This was sweet torture.

  “Pretty good.”

  “What are you now — about fourteen weeks along?” She nodded. “You don’t look pregnant at all. How long before you start showing?”

  “I am showing. But it’s only obvious when I’m naked.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  He raised an eyebrow and had no problem bringing a mental image of her beautiful body into his mind’s eye. “An arresting thought,” he said dryly. He cleared his throat. “I wish I’d known you were coming tonight.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of Dusty,” he said.

  She tensed slightly beneath his hand at her waist. “What about her?”

  “What about her? Don’t you think it’s awkward? You and I used to be... Well, we used to have—” He searched his brain for words to describe what he and Sam once shared.

  “John. You and I had a wonderful time together, but it’s... over. You’re free to go out with anyone you want.”

  “So it doesn’t bother you that she and I are here together?”

  “Should it?”

  Hell, yes, it should! “You seem uncomfortable.” He circled them toward the edge of the dance floor.

  “I’m not.”

  “You didn’t say more than two words to me back there, and you avoided my eyes like the plague.” He dipped his head to better catch her gaze. “And you still are.”

  As if to prove him wrong, Sam stared directly into his eyes a few moments, then her lips twitched and she smiled. “Okay, I was a little caught off guard when I first saw you with Dusty, but I’m certainly not ‘upset.’ Like I just told you, you’re free to go out with—”

  “Samantha.”

  “Okay, okay. Maybe it’s a little awkward. But I can handle it if you can.”

  Could he? Tough question.

  “So, what’s the deal with you and Miss Fitness?” Sam asked him. “I take it she’s some sort of exercise guru.”

  He nodded. “She’s a fitness competitor. It’s kind of like a beauty pageant — although she’d kill me for saying so. The women are judged on their physical fitness and athleticism as well their looks.” He cleared his throat, not wanting to talk about Dusty.

  “You serious about her?” Sam asked, hoping the question sounded casual, when she really wanted to ask, Have you slept with her? even though she knew the answer to that. Do frogs have legs? Duh.

  “You know me better than that. She and I have gone out a few times. We have a good time together.”

  I’ll just bet you do, she fumed, picturing the toned and gorgeous Dusty showing him just how limber she was. She forced a smile. “Well, she seems—” fake, trampy, slutty, bitchy, “nice,” she said.

  “This really doesn’t bother you at all, does it?” John asked.

  “Did you think I expected you to stay celibate forever?” She forced a laugh. She hoped he’d quickly deny that he had carnal knowledge of Miss Bimbo Fitness. He didn’t. Feeling the stupid sting of tears again, she blinked and swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Look, you should get back to your girlfriend. Wouldn’t want her getting the wrong idea.”

  “Dusty isn’t my girlfriend.”

  She shrugged again, hoping he’d think she didn’t care either way. She wanted so badly to press her body tight against his, hold him close, smell his skin, his hair. She wanted to grasp his hand and take him home with her. But he’d be going home with the fitness babe while she went home with her mother. It wasn’t fair.

  But it was what they’d both agreed to.

  Later that evening, John walked Dusty to her apartment, his hand resting on the curve of her lower back. At her door, she turned to him, tilting her head back and inviting his kiss. He accepted and drew her close. As he kissed her, he forced images of Sam from his mind, a difficult task since Dusty wasn’t nearly as good a kisser as Sam, and since Dusty didn’t turn him on nearly as much as Sam.

  He liked Dusty. But he loved Sam. Christ.

  When he lifted his head, Dusty murmured, “Would you like to come inside for a nightcap?” One of her eyebrows rose suggestively.

  He hesitated only briefly before accepting the invitation. He’d been out with her several times. When he’d picked her up tonight and he saw how great she looked in that glittery dress, he’d figured this would be the night they took the relationship to the next logical step: sex. He’d been ignoring that part of his life since he and Sam had parted ways and he missed it.

  Making love to Dusty would not only provide sexual release, but it would also — hopefully — start the process of forgetting Sam. Although seeing her tonight at the fundraiser made him wonder if forgetting her was even remotely possible. Still, he had to try, and what better way than to get involved with a beautiful, passionate woman who was standing in front of him right now with a lusty look in her kohl-rimmed eyes.

  Dusty was one of several women he’d asked out in recent weeks. But he was always comparing them to Sam.
They just didn’t measure up in terms of conversation, looks, passion. That really fried him. He was acting like a lovesick adolescent. Unacceptable. Eventually, he was bound to find a woman who would take Sam Rossi off his mind. He had to. He figured the only way to do that was to get his sex life up and running again.

  Dusty slipped a spaghetti strap off one tanned shoulder.

  It looked like his plan was coming together. Now, if only he could get excited about it.

  Brian huddled in the corner of the room, knees drawn to his chest. He rocked back and forth, biting his lip to keep from crying. One of his eyes was already starting to swell shut and his ribs hurt so bad he was pretty sure one of them was cracked. He also figured his left wrist was broken. His hand dangled limply at an odd angle to the rest of his arm and it hurt like a son of a bitch.

  It was only a matter of time before Earl came looking for him. His buddies were out there partying and Earl had been shooting up. Earl liked to show off when he was high. He’d probably beat on Brian some more just for the hell of it. His body couldn’t take another beating. He was quite sure of that. A tear streaked down his bloodied cheek. He didn’t bother wiping it away.

  Why did life have to suck so much? It had been an awesome night until the end. Even though he’d had to wear that stupid tuxedo, the fundraiser had been kind of fun. People paid him lots of attention, he’d got to dance with that hot Ms. Rossi and her boobs accidentally touched his arm once. The past few Saturday nights he’d spent at John’s, but tonight Mr. E had a date. He knew how it was when grown-ups got horny. All of a sudden, nothing else mattered. Whenever his mom got a new guy, Brian ceased to exist. He became nothing more substantial than a piece of dog shit on her shoe, something annoying and stinky that she rushed to scrape off. Mr. E was probably the same way. Grown-ups were all alike. Brian’s whole life, it seemed, had been about being in someone’s way, being dog shit on someone’s shoe.

  He’d been feeling especially angry about life when he’d got home from the party tonight. So when Boyo and Razor jumped out of the bushes at him, he’d told them to go fuck themselves. That had been his first mistake. The second would probably cost him a lot more in the long run. But he didn’t care anymore. No one else cared if he messed up his life, why should he?

  John leaned over Dusty, who lay on her beige leather couch in nothing but a black thong and matching push-up bra that seemed redundant given her implants. He was fully dressed except for having removed his jacket.

  She moaned as he braced a knee between her thighs and ran his hand up the length of her body. Her muscles were hard and tight, barely an ounce of fat anywhere. She reached out and rubbed his crotch. “Take me now, John,” she breathed.

  He planned to. He needed to satisfy this primal aching in his belly that had been there since seeing Sam tonight. It was a wanting, a deep need that burned through him like a smoldering forest fire. He’d make love to Dusty and quench that fire. As he unhooked her bra, he recalled Sam’s comments about making love versus sex. This tryst with Dusty would be sex. He didn’t know that he’d ever be able to make love to a woman again, not after Sam. Especially not while still in love with Sam.

  “John?” Dusty’s husky voice broke into his thoughts.

  He realized his hands and mouth had paused. Dusty was a beautiful, desirable, and passionate woman. He needed to focus on her.

  Pushing all thoughts of Sam aside, he unzipped his trousers. Then the cell phone in the pocket of his tuxedo jacket rang. He glanced around and saw the jacket lying in a heap by the front door.

  “Don’t answer that,” Dusty murmured, hooking her long fingers around his neck and drawing his head down.

  He pulled away. “I have to. No one would call this late if it wasn’t an emergency.” He left her sprawled half-naked on the couch as he hurried to answer the phone. He held it to his ear. “Everest here.” Silence on the line. “Hello?”

  “Um, Mr. E?” came a muffled voice.

  John straightened. “Brian?”

  “Yeah.” His voice sounded strange.

  “Who’s Brian?” Dusty called from across the room. “Why’s he calling so late?”

  John waved her silent. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

  Again, a brief pause. “Um, you said I could call you any time, and, um…” His voice trailed off.

  “John?” Dusty stepped beside him and rubbed her scantily clad body against his.

  “Is that your girlfriend?” Brian asked. “I’m bothering you, aren’t I? Sorry, I’ll just—”

  “Wait, Brian! Don’t hang up.” With his free hand, John nudged Dusty away from him. Couldn’t the woman see he was dealing with something more important than sex? She flounced away in a huff and dropped onto the couch, glaring at him.

  “It’s okay,” he told the boy. “What happened?”

  He thought he heard Brian sniff. “I’m, uh, kind of, um—”

  “Did that jack-ass Earl beat you again?” John’s breathing quickened with fury.

  There was a brief pause on the line. “I think I broke my arm. But if Earl finds me, I think he’ll hurt me some more. His friends are here and they’re really wasted.”

  John’s stomach roiled at the thought. “Where are you calling from?”

  “The neighbor’s house next door. She’s at Earl’s party so I snuck inside to use her phone. But someone will find me here, I know they will. And I have nowhere else to go, and my arm’s busted, and—”

  “Brian,” John said calmly, cutting off the boy’s panic. “It’s okay. Relax. I’m coming to get you, buddy. You’ll be okay. I’m coming to get you.”

  Brian didn’t really believe it until he saw John’s BMW pull up in front of Carla Perfilli’s house, where he was hiding out. The relief covered him like a warm blanket and for a moment he forgot his pain. John had actually come for him. If he’d known someone actually cared about him, he wouldn’t have— Fresh tears threatened to fall.

  John pounded on the front door. “Brian? It’s John.” The door swung slowly open. He took one look at Brian’s swollen and bleeding face and spit out a stream of expletives, concluding with, “Son of a bitch!” Brian shrank away but John reached out and pulled him into his arms. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.” Brian’s thin body tensed a few moments, then he sagged against the bigger man, all his strength gone.

  “Come on,” John said, wrapping his arm around Brian’s shoulders and leading him outside.

  Alex climbed out of another car as they headed toward the street.

  “What’s Mr. D doing here?” Brian asked.

  “I asked him to meet me here.” John led Brian to the BMW and unlocked it. “Lay down in the back seat and I’ll lock the doors. We’ll be right back.”

  Brian looked back and forth between the two men, both of whom scowled ferociously. “Wh-where are you going?”

  John rubbed the kid’s head. “Don’t worry.” He tossed the boy his cell phone. “If we’re not back in ten minutes though, dial 911.”

  It was the longest ten minutes of Brian’s life. He peeked out the window toward Earl’s house a few times, but saw nothing.

  Ten minutes came and went. He was about to punch in the emergency call when the alarm beeped off and John knocked on the window.

  “You okay?” John asked, opening the door and peering inside.

  “Wh-what happened?” Brian asked, his heart racing.

  “Just got some of your things.” He tossed in a pile of clothes and Brian’s school backpack. “You’re coming home with me for a while.”

  “I-I am? But my mom and Earl.”

  “I told your mom where you’d be and Earl, the way I see it, doesn’t have a say in the decision.” He smirked at Alex.

  Alex leaned in and clamped a hand on Brian’s shoulder. “You take care of yourself, guy. Okay?” And he left.

  When John climbed into the car and pulled away from the curb, Brian saw blood on his knuckles. “Mr. E? Your hands! Are you hurt?”

&
nbsp; John glanced at his hands gripping the steering wheel and shrugged. He met Brian’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Nope, but your buddy Earl is going to wake up with a mighty sore jaw tomorrow.”

  A part of Brian knew he should feel guilty about that, but it wasn’t like he’d really lied to John. He’d never specifically said that Earl was the one who’d beat him up. And Earl had beat him up on plenty of occasions in the past, so his getting knocked around by John and Alex was nothing the jack-ass didn’t deserve. He glanced at the back of John’s head then to his bloodied fingers around the steering wheel, and wondered if he should come clean with what had really happened tonight. How Boyo and Razor had come upon him in a weak moment, when he’d thought no one cared, and they’d promised him something he’d had so little of in his pathetic life: respect. His gut turned inside out at the thought. Mr. E would hate him if he ever found out, he was sure of it. Mr. E would think he was a major-ass loser.

  He couldn’t tell the truth. Keeping silent was his only option.

  Chapter 19

  The shade beneath the covered walkways of Pike Place Market was a welcome respite to the warm August sun beating down on Seattle. At one of the many flower booths, Sam chose a bouquet and brought it to her nose.

  “Hey there, beautiful,” said a deep voice in her ear.

  She turned her head and smiled. “John! What are you doing here?”

  He cocked his head toward the fish market. “Fishing.” Her protruding belly drew his gaze downward. Her loose-fitting cotton dress skimmed over the slight swelling beneath her breasts.

  “Look at you,” he said, meeting her eyes again. “You’re about halfway done now, aren’t you?”

  She smiled and rubbed her tummy. “As of today, actually. Twenty weeks to go — ooh!” It kicked inside her. “The little guy is active today.”

  “‘Little guy’? You’re having a boy?”