He doesn’t respond.
Huffing out a breath, I cross my arms, feeling more agitated with every second he refuses to bend. The cab of the truck is stifling hot even with the air conditioning working overtime. I adjust the vents to get a better angle so I don’t have a bad case of boob sweat.
“Where are we going anyway?” Kip picked me up after work, but we’re headed in the opposite direction of my apartment.
“I’ve lined up a realtor to look at some shops for buy or lease.”
“Shut up,” I exclaim. “Seriously?”
He fights his smile but loses out. It’s hard to be mellow when someone is so excited for you. “I figured you’re absolutely right. I’ve got the experience, so why not do something with it?”
“I’m sorry,” I say, cupping my ear. “I couldn’t hear you. Can you repeat that for me?”
“Kaley,” he admonishes.
“That’s twice in less than a week. Are you coming down with something? I’ve heard there’s a late bout of the flu going around.”
“I’m coming down with something, alright, but I don’t think it’s the flu,” he says, eyes smiling. “And let the record show, the first time I admitted defeat, you had me in a compromising position.”
“No, I’m pretty sure I was the one being compromised.”
“Never.” His reply is quick and surprisingly serious, shifting the conversation with just one word. “You have all the power when it comes to sex. You say when, you say where, and you say how.”
For some reason his sincerity makes me feel guilty. Begrudgingly, I turn the radio back on, trying not to cringe through a fiddle solo.
Kip lifts an eyebrow in my direction.
“Surrendering,” I explain.
He smiles, the one where the corners of his eyes crinkle with the movement. Reaching over, he turns the dial to the pop station I’ve been trying to set it on for the past fifteen minutes.
“What are you doing?”
“Compromising,” he says.
“Now you want to give in? Now? No.” I turn the dial back.
He gives me a look, flipping it back again.
“Stop.”
“You stop,” he says.
“I’m not arguing over this again.”
“Good. Leave it.”
Somehow leaving it on the station I originally wanted seems like I’m losing the fight, so I jam my hand on the dial and turn the radio off for good.
“Oh, we’re back to this?”
“Yes,” I say, refolding my arms.
“God, you’re such a child,” he says.
“Me?”
We park in front of a warehouse with a for lease sign on the side of it, but neither one of us makes a move to get out.
Kip yanks the key from the ignition and turns in my direction. “Yes, you. I’ve never met such an infuriating person in my life.”
“You’re not fucking cupcakes and pedicures either, Mr. I-think-the-sun-should-rise-and-fall-in-my-ass.”
“It’s my truck, so I should get to listen to the music I want.”
“And I tried to compromise,” I say, pointing at nothing in particular. “But you’re so old and stuck in your ways that you refuse to budge.”
He scoffs. “I’m thirty, not senile. You’re just used to always getting everything you want.”
I sputter through a response, so enraged by this point that I’m actually afraid for Kip’s safety. “I do not always get what I want.”
“Really? You don’t?”
“No.”
We have a stare-off, neither of us wanting to back down. Subconsciously, I know I’m irrationally angry at this point, but I can’t stop it.
Kip, very reluctantly, lets his guard down first. “What are we even arguing about?”
I want to stomp my foot at his attempt to be rational because I’m not ready to give up yet.
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
He taps his thumb against his thigh, watching me, mulling something over. “If I tell you we can go get cupcakes and pedicures after we leave, will you drop it?”
I can’t help it; a smile tugs at my lips. “What kind of cupcakes?”
He sees my resolve weakening, and maneuvers closer to me on the bench seat. “Vanilla?”
I shake my head, scrunching up my nose. “Too plain.”
Running his palm up the outside of my thigh, he says, “Chocolate?”
“Too sweet.”
His fingers reach the back of my shorts, fitting his palm underneath my right ass cheek. “Red velvet?”
“Too rich.” I debate whether to make his pursuit easier by moving closer, or harder by pulling away. His fingers are entirely too close to where I want them to ignore.
Before I can officially decide, he has me under him with my back against the seat. “You’re very hard to please.”
I trail my hands up his chest, intertwining my fingers around the back of his neck. “You don’t usually have this problem. I must have reached your level of tolerance today.”
He looks from my eyes to my lips, nothing but desire on his face, which no doubt matches mine. “Maybe if you kissed me I’d be more patient.”
He says it like he believes it.
We kiss, and any remnants of agitation dissipate with the touch of our lips. I’ve learned we’re good at this. It seems that our sexual chemistry and annoyance for each other go hand-in-hand. Or maybe it’s dick-in-vagina?
After we woke up naked in my bed after our night together, we argued about what Kip would tell Lilly about not coming home.
“Why don’t you just tell her the truth,” I say, sitting perched on the edge of the bed.
He takes a moment to look up from gathering his clothes like I’ve lost my mind. “We’ve been over this.”
“You don’t have to tell her it was me. Tell her you stayed the night with a friend.”
“I’ll figure it out on the way there.”
“You’re making this way more complicated than it has to be,” I say, watching him bend over.
“Did you take my underwear,” he says, shuffling the piles of clothes. “And where’s my socks?”
“Yes, Kip. I horde dirty underwear and socks.”
He rolls his eyes. “Then what happened to them?”
I throw up my hands, doing a half-assed job kicking clothes around on the ground to find them. “The boogey-man ate them.”
“You’re so helpful,” he smarts, shaking out my clothes as well. “I don’t see how you find anything in this fucking apartment.”
Sighing, I get on my hands and knees, digging through the clothes and finding them underneath the bed. I drag them out and hold them up, an onslaught of remarks about how useless he is on my lips when I realize the compromising situation I’ve put myself in. Kneeling on the cold hardwood floor, only wearing panties, and eye level with Kip’s dick.
Remembering the feel of his hands in my hair, the tensing of his body, still gives me chills when I think about it. There’s not a more powerful feeling than making him lose all sense of restraint. I’ve encountered a lot of men, but I don’t think I’ve ever desired to bring someone to their knees like I do with Kip. Which is odd, because no one can irritate me like him.
It must have been the best damn blowjob of his life, because he showed up at my apartment unannounced yesterday, and we argued about the value of a text message.
“You can’t just show up unexpected, Kip. It’s rude.”
He stands on the other side of my doorway, forearm braced against the frame. “Because you’re the face of propriety?”
“I’m busy.”
“Really,” he says, leaning forward, trying to peek inside my apartment. “Doing what?” His eyes land on what he caught me in the middle of, and he laughs. “Painting your nails? Sorry I caught you at such a bad time.”
I huff, walking away from the door, knowing he’s going to come in anyway. “All I’m asking for is a notice. What if I had someone over?”
/> He raises his eyebrows, shutting the door behind him. “Is that a possibility?”
Dropping onto the couch, I pick up the red bottle of polish and resume coating my toenails. “I know you’re behind in the world, but one little text message wouldn’t kill you.”
I feel the couch cushion dip as he sits. I ignore him, chin braced on my bent knee, concentrating on steadying my hand. I was unprepared for the sinking feeling in my belly when I opened the door. My heart leaped into action, beating an erratic pace in my chest, an uneasiness making my stomach weak. It closely resembles the feeling I get whenever I find an eight-legged arachnid within ten feet of me. Except, I don’t want to smoosh Kip under the heel of my shoe; I want to ride him like horse.
“How long are you going to pretend that you’re not happy to see me?”
“Until you go away.”
He smiles, rubbing his hands together as they rest between his knees. “Did your apartment get messier overnight?”
“I’m literally three seconds away from murdering you.”
He laughs, something I’m hearing more and more of. “It’s not like you could get away with it,” he says.
“Oh, yeah. And why not?”
“I’m fairly positive you’d never get around to hiding my body. You don’t make picking up after yourself a habit..”
“You have a weird fascination with how to conceal a murder that hasn’t been committed yet.”
He thinks on it a few moments, head cocked to the side in thought. “Huh,” he sounds. “I read this weird novel about a lion and a lamb and I think it’s really getting to me.”
I hide my smile behind my hair. Placing his chin on my shoulder, he slides my hair out of the way to get a better view of my face.
“You know as well as I do that you’re happy to see me.” He places a small kiss to the underside of my ear. “Your heart rate betrays you.”
I half sigh, half give in. It’s hard to argue with the truth. “Can you at least promise to make an effort?”
Barely removing his lips from my skin, he says, “Yeah. Sure.”
The fact we even made it this far today before pissing each other off and stripping naked is a freaking accomplishment.
We break for air.
“We need to stop,” he says right before going in for another kiss.
“You stop.”
“I need to be presentable, and this,” he says, grabbing the front of his pants, “is not presentable.”
“We can remedy that.” To accentuate my point, I dip my hand into the waistband.
He groans, pulling my hand free and leaning back. “No.” His face is comically stern as he gets himself together. “No,” he repeats, firmer this time.
I roll my eyes and sit up. “Fine, but only because public indecency is a parole violation.”
He quickly looks around the parking lot, checking to make sure it’s empty. “I didn’t even think about that.”
“No one saw us, you’re fine.” I get out of the truck and I have to wait five entire minutes for him to emerge, looking slightly less flustered than I left him.
He reaches for my hand as we walk inside, and the feeling of his fingers intertwined with mine makes me smile. It’s endearing in a very sweet way. The realtor is on his cell phone when we round the corner of the building. He looks up and gives us a once-over, smiling as he holds up a finger to indicate for us to wait a minute. Kip tugs me toward him, using his spare time to kiss me.
“It’s too hot to be hanging on each other,” I say, not making an effort to move him away.
His lips move a little higher along my throat, forcing me to tilt my head side with the motion. “It’s not when the realtor I hired is checking you out.”
Confused, I pull far enough away to look over Kip’s shoulder at the guy in the suit. He’s far more interested in his conversation, face tilted toward the ground as he talks. “You’re imagining things. I’d know, trust me.”
“He’s interested,” Kip assures.
“How do you know?”
“Because he’s straight.”
At that very moment, the realtor and I make eye contact. He looks familiar, but I can’t place him.
“This is ridiculous,” I say, detangling myself from Kip. “You’re acting like we’re together.”
His face morphs into confusion. “Are we not? We’re here,” he says. “Together.”
“You know what I mean.” I push his shoulder, and he takes a step back, finally giving me breathing room. Somehow Kip makes me feel like a teenager, emotions all over the place.
“Sorry about that,” the realtor says, holding out a hand for Kip to shake. “Brandon Benoit. Nice to meet you.”
His name flips a switch and I suddenly remember where I know him from. Bitty Brandon. I feel the blood drain all the way to my feet as he reaches for my hand to shake next and I’m forced to make eye contact.
“Kaley.”
His smile is so condescending, it takes a crucial amount of effort not to blurt out the actual size of his dick to smack it off of his face. Not that it matters. I still slept with him for money, regardless of dick size.
Ugh. I hate myself.
I’ve only run into someone outside of Hudson’s once, and we both went out of our way to avoid each other. This is different and astronomically uncomfortable. I imagine I’d feel much more myself without Kip here, but he is, and I am, and Bitty Brandon is, and this entire situation is a big nope.
Kip clears his throat, knocking Brandon back into persona. “We’re located outside of the warehouse district…”
His words fade as I come to the realization that this man has been inside me and I didn’t even recognize him. The same way Kip touched me less than ten minutes ago. My gaze shifts from Brandon to Kip and back again, studying them side by side. It’s very obvious Kip is vastly superior to Brandon. Kip may not have as much money as Brandon, but he’s far more genuine. He’s true to himself, no matter who or what he comes across. Unshakeable.
Shame creeps up my chest and into my throat, making my head pound from the pressure. The fact I’ve let Kip inside me after this man has been, makes a sick feeling crawl up my throat.
“Kaley?” Kip’s voice catches me and I look up from a spot I have been absentmindedly staring at on the concrete. “You okay,” he asks, concerned.
I force a smile. “It’s really hot.”
Brandon opens the door to the space, ushering us inside the building. “Let’s get you inside then, where there’s air conditioning.”
Kip isn’t buying it, but I determinedly avoid his gaze as I walk in. Unfortunately, Bitty Brandon’s knowing smile is far too large to miss.
“I’m not immediately bombarded by the smell of cat piss, so that’s a good sign,” I say as I walk through the door.
So far the two previous rental spaces were a bust. One was in an iffy part of town and the other previously doubled as a bait and tackle shop. They both shared the same characteristic: the smell of urine.
“Can’t argue with that,” Kip says, following behind me.
“Told you the third time is the charm,” Brandon says, turning on the lights.
Ostentatious would be a polite word used to describe Brandon, considering he refers to himself in third person. I’ve heard of salespeople using the technique because it helps pitch themselves to buyers, but it’s counterproductive in my opinion.
One by one he flips the overhead lights on, revealing the space. It’s a warehouse in the development district of downtown, mostly surrounded by construction sites and suppliers. It straddles the city line, close enough to downtown that it could draw in business.
“This is big,” Kip says. “Can’t be cheap.”
“It is big, yes. But it’s actually going into foreclosure soon. The owners are willing to sell at the pay-off price. It’s especially nice since you’re paying in cash.”
The space is void of anything other than the concrete floor, metal walls, and the duct system rigged ac
ross the ceiling. There’s a second floor that overlooks the shop with a staircase leading up to it on our right.
Brandon takes the lead. “This is a bonus area. It can be used as an office or storage space. It accounts for roughly six hundred extra square feet.”
The loft is much cooler than the ground floor, the air ducts right over our heads. There’s railing to protect anyone from falling fifteen to twenty feet to their death, and a tiny bathroom located against the back wall, partitioned off with two-by-fours and drywall.
“This could be an apartment.”
Kip nods in agreement. “The bottom floor has enough square footage to add a storage room and a lobby.” He spins in a circle, taking in the small loft. “I can divide this area into two parts, creating an office in the front and a small bedroom in the back.”
Brandon nods in agreement. “This building has a lot of potential.”
Kip looks to me, ignoring Brandon’s selling point. He’s pretty much overlooked Brandon’s spiel, always referring back to me for my opinion. “What do you think?”
“Kip, I don’t get why you keep asking me. I know nothing about auto shops.”
“Do you think you could be okay staying here?”
“I think the real question is whether or not you’re okay with it. This will be your home. It’s somewhere you should feel comfortable no matter what.”
He catches my reference. “I’m comfortable with you.” He has his head tilted back, looking at the ceiling, body relaxed like he didn’t just drop a serious truth bomb.
I guess I miss feeling like I have a home.
After a few beats too long of silence, Brandon suggests going over logistics, and they leave to go downstairs. I walk the distance of the loft, counting my footsteps to measure the length. The space can’t be cheap. I haven’t broached the subject of money with Kip. I know his father left money for him and Lilly, but I’m not sure how much.
Sex with Kip is good. No, that’s not right. Sex with Kip is intense. It’s exciting and new and all the fun things that I used to chase in high school and college. I forgot how strong the pull can be when I’m attracted to someone. He may be older, but from what I’ve gathered, sex has never been a priority for him. And yet, he has a way of making me feel like the inexperienced one. Sex for him is simple and primal, an urge he taps into, revealing a completely different side of his personality. I’m not ready to give him up, but I also don’t want to lead him on.
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