“It really doesn’t. I’m from Indiana. I’m used to cold.”
The woman chortled. “I’m from New York. I’ve been here six years, and I don’t think I’ll ever get used to sunny, warm Christmases.”
Kendel studied her a moment. Air’s fiancée looked like a runway model – tall, more body in her black hair than on her bones, and the face of an angel. Her casual charm and down-to-earth manner made her approachable, however. Air had chosen a good woman.
“Whatever you’re doing with Burn, keep it up. I watched Alexandria then Wendy destroy him, and the complete asshole he became. He’s clean now, and with you, he looks happier than I’ve ever seen him.”
“Who says I’m anything more than his personal assistant?”
The woman smiled. “He constantly has a hand on you. He scooted his chair closer to yours. He hardly looks at anyone else. No way you’re just his assistant.”
The weight in her chest expanded. “Do you think maybe he’s just got bad taste in women?”
He’d chosen Kendel, after all, and she used him as much as his ex-girlfriends. Maybe not in the same way, but she’d lie if she didn’t admit she’d taken the job solely for the travel and experience. She’d slept with him to avoid later regrets. Though now she feared she had a whole new set of regrets – the very kind she’d dreaded.
“Maybe he had bad taste,” said the woman. “He’s got you, doesn’t he? So I’d say he’s now got the best.”
* * *
Kendel’s quiet bothered Burn. She didn’t say a word the entire drive home, and once inside, she’d simply kissed his cheek then went to change. He’d tried to warn her she’d appear in the tabloids.
He went to her room and leaned on the doorframe as she stood in pale pink bra and panties, neatly folding her clothes. “It could be worse, you know. The story could’ve made the news.”
Not sparing him a glance, she went to her closet and wheeled out one of her large suitcases. His heart skipped a beat.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, glad he’d managed to sound light. “I know Dan promised we’d find you an apartment, but Christmas Day isn’t a good time to search. Besides, I’d just as soon have you stay here.”
“I’m not your assistant anymore.”
He went in and sat on the bed’s edge, flipping closed her suitcase lid as soon as she opened it. “No. You’re infinitely dearer to me.”
A single tear dripped from the corner of her eye. He shot to his feet, alarmed. His instinct pieced her words and demeanor together, and he didn’t like what it told him.
She shook her head. “Don’t you see? I don’t want to be dear to you. I don’t want you to be dear to me. I meant it when I said we’re not meant for each other.”
He took a step toward her, his heart plummeting into his stomach. “Then what was last night and this morning?”
“It was supposed to be just sex. I never ever wanted to hurt you. You’ve seen enough to last a lifetime. And I made up my mind not to love you.” Her voice broke on a sob as she said, “But I feel like my heart is breaking.”
As he embraced her and tried to absorb the tremors of her weeping, he didn’t know whether to give in to anger or despair. He whispered, “I’ve only just found you, Kendel.”
“I should never have taken this job. And I definitely shouldn’t have given in to you last night.”
He held her tighter and closed his eyes. “Don’t say that. I thought I was ruined to bitterness, but you proved me wrong. I needed you before you took this job. Hell, I needed you a year ago. I need you now more than ever. Have I nothing to offer that you want?”
She wiped her eyes then wrapped her arms around him. “I wish you did.”
Chapter Twenty
One final time, to last her a lifetime, Kendel wanted him atop her. Around her. Inside her.
She pushed his blazer off his shoulders and averted her gaze from the asking in his eyes. He had a way of pulling her heart out of her chest and putting it next to his own.
“Say there’s a chance,” he said, letting his jacket fall to the floor behind him.
“Kiss me.”
Tilting her face, she welcomed his lips on hers. The invasion of his tongue. Tension in his body and urgency in his kiss spoke of a desperation she shared.
He stripped from his shirt, never breaking from the kiss, then walked her backward to the bed. As she scooted onto her covers, he swiped her suitcase to the floor where it landed with a thud.
Unfastening his slacks, he held her gaze with storm-blackened eyes. “Don’t humiliate me by making me beg.”
“I don’t want you to beg.” It wouldn’t do him any good. Besides, she admired his strength and will. She never wanted to see him brought low, and especially not by her.
His pants dropped, and he stepped out of them. The bulge in his white boxer briefs had her pulse pounding through her crease in anticipation. As though he were metal and she a magnet, she felt a physical pull deep in her belly, demanding they come together.
She went to her knees and took hold of his waistband. His erection, heavy and hot, sprang free and rested against her hand. The thought of never touching him after today made her bold, and she licked the salty drop of dew from his tip.
“Oh, God, Kendel,” he said, his voice nearly unrecognizable in its raspy rumble as his words melted into a groan.
Empowered by this pleasure she gave, she took his engorged head in her mouth and sucked while pushing his underwear down his lean hips.
“No teeth,” he said softly.
When she glanced up and found him watching her with raw hunger in his taut features, a surge of sexual heat arced through her.
She wet his length on her tongue, tasting his unique flavor and smooth texture, then grasped his firm ass and took him as far into her mouth as she could fit.
He groaned, a deep, guttural, sensual sound that increased her excitement and hardened her nipples. Careful not to graze him with her teeth, she closed on him, surrounding him completely in her mouth.
His fingers went into her hair while she slowly withdrew, drawing deeply upon his flesh. He inhaled loudly. Her folds throbbed almost painfully now, and a drop of her juices escaped her panties and trickled along her inner thigh.
Encasing him, she rode his length, learning how to relax her gag reflex and accommodate him deeper. When his tip touched the back of her throat, her eyes began to water and she swallowed.
“Yes! Christ, woman!” His fingers curled.
Her folds actually ached with need. She’d never been so turned on. When she slid a hand between his legs and cupped his cool, coarsely-haired testicles, he cried out.
“No, baby. Fuck, you’re going to make me come.” He pulled free, his glistening member pinkish purple and bigger than ever. “I need to be inside you.”
He finished removing his briefs then rolled on a condom. Reaching behind, she unfastened her bra. He placed a knee on the bed, hooked a finger in the twist of fabric that connected the two cups, and pulled it off of her.
His gaze went to her soaked panties. “You’d better take those off or, so help me, I’ll tear them from you.”
She sank teeth into her bottom lip to hide her smile. She adored him this way. Demanding. Virile. Sexually aggressive.
She lifted her hips and slid her panties to her knees. Bringing a leg up, she caught the elastic on her toe and flung them over the edge of the bed. She spread her legs.
He entered her on one slow thrust, filling and stretching her. “You’re so wet.”
They gasped on a collective breath, their eyes locked. When he seated, their pelvises kissing, he stroked the backs of his fingers down her cheek then cupped the side of her neck.
Tremendous affection shone from his gaze. “Don’t you know what you do to me, gorgeous? I never thought I’d feel this way about somebody. Never thought I could.”
“Please,” she whispered, needing him not to declare his devotion while at the same time feverishly needing him to mov
e inside her. “Take me to heaven.”
“Love me, Kendel.”
Her heart shuddered, and her breath caught on a terrible, overwhelming jolt of sorrow. She whispered, “I do. I do love you, Burn.”
His eyes went liquid as he began to stroke out then in. She focused on the building pleasure, letting it overpower her sadness. Pressing her mouth to his, she closed her lids and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders.
Even with him inside of her, she couldn’t get enough. She’d never wanted anything or anyone like she did him. It consumed her in its fire, flaming her blood and setting her brain ablaze.
He took her higher and deeper into ecstasy than she thought possible. When she came, orgasm gripped her so tightly that she screamed on silence.
Then he was holding her, combing his fingers through her hair and placing a sweet kiss to her forehead. She hugged him, wishing he lived a different life. Wishing he wanted a different future. She loved him enough not to ask it of him, though.
He’d never lied to her. Not once. Not about anything. If she asked him to leave the band and his music, he would. He’d lie about being happy. He’d be living a lie.
She inhaled his fragrance, that intoxicating scent of something uniquely Burn underlying and mingling with his faint cologne, and she tried to memorize it. The feel of his hard body. The sound of his heart beat and steady breathing.
She would miss his brutal honesty. The way he looked at her as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world. The security only his arms around her afforded.
They slept the afternoon into evening then made a meal from party leftovers she’d stored in the refrigerator. Later, they made love as if they had an eternity. Neither said a word. Their touch said it all.
* * *
Bright daylight filled Kendel’s bedroom doorway from the bank of windows beyond, and Burn blocked his sleep-sensitive eyes from its glare. Patting the bed in search of her, he ignored his full bladder. He needed to hold her, kiss her, more than he needed relief.
When his hand met only bed, he cracked open one eye and rolled. Empty.
Squinting, he sat. “Kendel?”
Both closets stood open and vacant. The dresser surface was bare, and her laptop case no longer sat under her chair. Her voice reached him, quiet and unclear, so he scrambled from bed and hurried to the living room.
She stood near the front door, her phone to her ear. “I’ll be right down. Thank you.”
“Don’t do this,” he said, his chest splitting in two and making it hard to breathe.
She removed her laptop case from her shoulder and set it between her two full-sized suitcases. “Don’t beg, Burn.”
“You were going to leave without saying goodbye? Why would you do that?”
Tears pooled at her bottom lids. “I know it sounds cowardly, but you asked me not to make you beg. I was trying to spare you.”
“Spare me?” He released a scoffing cough of disbelief. “You said you love me.”
A crocodile tear rolled free and straight down her cheek. “I do. Please understand, Burn. This feels magical and powerful right now, but we’ll only make each other miserable.”
“What are you talking about?” Was he dreaming a nightmare?
Her phone rang.
“Yes?” She cut him a tentative glance. “Thank you. I’m on my way.” Putting her phone in the front pocket of her purple carry-on, she said, “My taxi is here. I have to go. One day you’ll meet your soul mate, the woman who loves and wants you and your life. You’ll be glad I freed you. Trust me.”
Her last two words ripped through him as if she’d plucked the samurai sword off of his forearm and cleaved him in half. Tears streamed unchecked down her face now. They didn’t slow her, though, as she slung her laptop onto her shoulder then stacked her carry-on atop one of the larger suitcases.
“You dare tell me to trust you? As you rip out my heart and trample it on the way out my door?” His eyes began to ache, and his stomach burned.
She opened the door and rolled her luggage to the hall. Facing him, she turned tragic eyes on him as her throat worked against the convulsions of her sobs. “Let’s not pretend, Burn. Never once did you say you loved me. And I’m glad. I’m glad you never lied to me.”
The door closed, and he stared, stunned and wrecked, at where she’d stood. He shook violently. He hadn’t declared his love? How had he failed to communicate to the only woman he could honestly say he’d ever loved how much he cherished her?
“I’m a gagging fool.”
He had to go after her. Somehow convince her to stay. Convince her of his devotion and love. Unfortunately, his bladder chose that exact moment to reach its limit. He ran to his room and emptied it in his own bathroom then pulled on a pair of loose shorts and raced after her.
The moment he exited the lift into the lobby, however, he realized he’d taken too long. He only caught a glimpse of the taxi’s rear bumper cornering from the gate to the street.
He went to the doorman’s desk. “Did she say where she was going?”
“No, Mr. Shatterly. Miss Price didn’t leave any forwarding information.”
Damn. Shit. Damn.
In the lift, he braced his hands on the car’s wall and sank his chin to his chest. Had she gotten another job? Perhaps with another band? An actor or actress?
No way. They’d been back from Korea two days, one of which was Christmas. Who would hire right now?
He stepped off the lift and abruptly halted. He’d forgotten the door key. “Fuck!”
Chapter Twenty-One
Kendel sat at her brother’s kitchen table and buckled under her sorrow for the second time that day. Planting her elbows on the table’s Formica surface, she cried into her hands and tried to will her heart to stop hurting.
“What’s going on?”
She startled as John strolled in and leaned a black duffle upright against the wall. “You’re supposed to be on the platform for another two weeks.”
“Drill tip shredded. Can’t get replacement parts until after New Year. What’re you doing here? I thought you were in California.” He settled into the metal and plastic chair next to hers.
“Didn’t work out.”
He wiped tears off of her cheek then handed her a cheap paper napkin from a stack at the table’s center. “So you’re balling because you got fired? That’s not like you. You never cry. Believe me, Terry and I tried to make you cry a lot when we were kids. You never would.”
Shaking her head, she dabbed at her cheeks. “I wasn’t fired. I quit.”
He laughed, but it died on his lips in seconds. “Sorry. I thought you were joking. You never quit anything. Ever.”
“It’s complicated.” She sniffled, but sadness hit her like an ocean wave, and she tumbled in the undertow of it, losing her battle against more tears.
“Geez, Kendel. What happened?”
She inhaled a shaky breath into weak lungs. “I lost my heart to the wrong guy.”
“Aw, shit.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Give me his name. It’s been ages since I’ve gotten arrested. I guess I’m about due.”
“No. I don’t want you to hurt him.”
He stood and began to pace. “He was charming? Made you fall in love with him? Then what? Did he get bored with you? Leave you for another woman? He must’ve been something else. You were only there a week. I’m going to pound the asshole.”
“It wasn’t like that.” She took a dry napkin and wiped her face. “I left him. He asked me not to go, but I couldn’t see a future with him, John.”
* * *
A baggie of cocaine burned a hole in Burn’s pocket nearly as hot and huge as the one Kendel left in his chest when she’d ripped out his heart. Part of him screamed and railed, warning him not to start down this path that nearly destroyed him. That would land him in rehab like V, if it didn’t kill him this time.
A louder part begged him to end the pain Kendel’s leaving had caused, even if only for
the length of a high. He’d tried drinking it away, but it barely dulled the pain.
A woman staggered into him then giggled, and as he made a third attempt to get his door key into its slot, he frowned at her. When had he met this girl, and why had she come home with him? She looked like a model.
Not looking had actually helped his hand get the key to work, and he opened the door. He stumbled in, not aided by the model hanging on him.
Their maid, a tiny woman in a gray uniform, came around the corner from the bedrooms with an armload of Kendel’s bedding. She cast the woman a tight-lipped, disapproving glance then put her head down and passed by, headed for the laundry next to the kitchen. She’d thoroughly cleaned away any sign of the Christmas party.
“You should go,” he told her, not wanting the maid to see him snort…or anything that may follow.
“Yes, Mr. Shatterly. Two packages arrived. I put them in the kitchen. I tried to tell the doorman that the one with a woman’s name came to you by mistake, but he said you would know what to do with it.”
The model swayed then reached into his pocket and took the baggie before going and plopping unsteadily on the sofa.
“Thank you,” he said to the maid. “I’ll get it sorted.”
He went to his room, intending to change from his button-down into a T-shirt, but his lions stopped him where he stood. Kendel had been so casual about his collection. So accepting. Even after she came in here and discovered the extent to which he’d expanded it over the years.
He suspected one of the packages waiting in the kitchen contained his newest acquisition along with the book he’d bought her. He couldn’t get excited about his Korean lion. The moment he took it from its wrapping, he would want to show it to her. He’d want to study her face when he handed her the book.
He turned, trying to remember why he’d come into his room. Why was his bedroom spinning? Oh, that’s right. He’d stopped at a pub for a sandwich and gotten pissed on rum. Wasn’t there a girl who’d gotten in the cab with him? Shit. The model in the living room. With his coke.
Rock My Christmas (FlameSmith in Love Book 1) Page 14