Promise Me

by Robin Bielman, Samanthe Beck

  I wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze. I’m not sure what more to say, but I want to comfort him. I can’t even imagine how awful those days were, the years since. Parents aren’t supposed to outlive their children. Siblings are supposed to have a lifetime together.

  “She was a model, too, and she’d just landed her first major movie role and was ecstatic. She was poised to be the next big thing, and in the blink of an eye it was over. My parents were…” He shakes his head. “Devastated. Especially my dad. My mom used to joke that when it came to us kids, she was just an incubator, and that was especially true when it came to Andie. Dad managed her career from day one, so a huge chunk of his professional identity was wrapped up in her. They didn’t just share a father-daughter bond. They shared goals and dreams.” He shrugs out of my hold. “Andie always told me to enjoy having Dad as just a dad and not a business advisor controlling every aspect of my life, but I envied how tight they were. Then after…”

  “After?” I whisper.

  “After she died, Dad sank into a deep depression. He would sit in his study for hours, staring at the wall. That’s when I asked him to manage me. And just like that he had a purpose again. Someone needed him. I needed him. The sad thing is, I always needed him. He just couldn’t see it. It’s like if he can’t have the relationship on his terms, it doesn’t exist. But his terms are…unsustainable.”

  I lace my fingers with his. He’s staring so intently at his sister’s picture, my chest aches for him.

  “Andie knew. She warned me. I see that now. But back then I thought she didn’t want any competition for star of the family, so I blew it off. I should have listened more closely.”

  “What was your favorite thing about her?” I want to end this conversation on a positive note before I lead him back to his party.

  Vaughn reaches out and touches the picture, traces the smile that’s basically a feminine version of his own. “My sister was the funniest person I knew. She used to do these dead-on impressions of our mom and dad—behind their backs, of course—and make me laugh so hard I couldn’t breathe.” A faint smile plays across his lips. “I haven’t thought about that in a long time.” He turns toward me. His eyes lose the faraway look as he absently tucks my hair behind my ear. “Thanks for asking about her.” Then he leans down and brushes his lips against mine.

  It’s a simple thank-you kiss, inspired by appreciation, but chemical reactions don’t take motives into account, and the chemistry between us has been simmering since day one. The boiling point is dangerously close. Before the first tingles subside, his mouth is back. Not a fleeting brush this time, but a small bite, followed by a slow, deliberate slide.

  Long, dizzying minutes pass. Or maybe just seconds… I lose all track of time with his lips on mine and his scent fogging my brain. When he raises his head, I run my tongue over my bottom lip to steal a hint of his taste, and his eyes track the move. We stare at each other for several charged seconds. I’m hardly able to breathe. It’s like he’s sucked all the air out of the room. All that’s left is his heat. His eagerness.

  “Vaughn,” I whisper just before his mouth crashes over mine.

  His lips coax mine apart. His tongue sweeps into my mouth. I drown in the textures and taste of him. He dominates all my senses, and once again I’m swept up in something I can’t fight. I don’t want to fight. Vaughn’s in my head, and he isn’t going anywhere.

  Without breaking the kiss, he lifts me up by the waist and sets me on the desk, nudges my knees apart with his hip and leans in between my spread legs. I feel his erection through his shorts. My dress offers barely any coverage below, but I don’t care. Hot chills—is there such a thing?—race up my arms, down my back, and along the inside of my thighs.

  Vaughn tastes like peaches and a hint of mint and I want to kiss him all night. I slowly uncurl my fingers from the edge of the desk and lift my arms to drape them around his neck. Bring him even closer. I arch my back, a silent plea for him to touch my breast, either one, just please hurry.

  He groans against my mouth, and my wish is granted. He cups me like I’m fragile and rubs his thumb across my nipple. I’m pretty sure Vaughn can read any and every signal I give him. For a second my inexperience worries me, but when his hand slides down my stomach and slips under my dress to toy with the edge of my panties, I forget my amateur status.

  This is really happening.

  Chapter Eleven

  Vaughn

  I want to devour. I want to savor. I want to kiss Kendall until she’s breathless and touch her through her clothes until she begs me to strip them away, but at the same time, I want to flip her around, drag her panties aside, and pump an orgasm into her so hard and fast all she can do is cling to my desk and bite her lip to keep from screaming my name. I’m damn near paralyzed by the competing urges, but then she sighs.

  It’s not a worried sigh, or a stop sigh. It’s the kind of sigh a woman reserves for the first taste of imported chocolate. This sigh says she wants to enjoy every sweet moment. It slides down my throat and feeds the animal inside me made of greed and hunger just enough to stop it from running wild. I soften our kiss, brush my lips over one corner of her mouth, the other, and then use the tip of my tongue to tease the sensitive crevice. I’m doing my best to make her think about other sensitive crevices my tongue could tease and making myself insanely hard in the process.

  “More,” she murmurs. “I need more.” She opens her lips wider under mine.

  Just like that, the animal is straining the leash. I plunge headlong back into the kiss, mouth fused to mouth. With one hand on her jaw, I slide my tongue inside and taste every part of her I can reach. After one long, compliant moment, she surges forward and gives me the same treatment, her quick mouth trapping my tongue, sucking furiously as I withdraw.

  “I can make you come,” I whisper, slipping my fingers just inside her underwear. They’re damp. Thirst prickles the back of my throat. “The way I just kissed you? I want to kiss your pussy just like that, until it’s as wet and swollen as your lips. Keep kissing and licking until you come for me.”

  Her heart pounds next to mine, almost as hard and fast as my own. Her stomach quivers against my abs. I’m sure she can feel the ridge of my hard-on jutting against her thigh. There’s no concealing it at this point.

  “Right here, right now,” I add.

  “Okay,” she breathes out.

  Someone pounds on the door and she nearly startles off the edge of the desk. I keep hold of her, bury my face in her hair, while from the other side of the door, Dylan calls, “We’ve got a shitload of people out here, birthday boy, and you fuck like my grandpa. Have your private party later.”

  I groan and slowly withdraw my hand. Having a houseful of people who assume we’re in my office, knocking out a birthday bang, kinda kills the mood. Also, it sends a message I don’t want to send, to Kendall or anyone else. She isn’t some random girl I snuck off with for a quick thrill. This thing between us might be temporary, but it’s not random. In fact, the last status update from Kendall was It’s complicated, and we should probably have a heart-to-heart about that before orgasms are exchanged, not after. Right now, however, the moment could use a little humor. I take a step back to give her some space, and say, “Two things. One”—I hold up a finger—“I’m going to kill my roommate. Two”—I extend a second finger—“I do not fuck like Dylan’s grandfather.”

  She looks up from straightening her dress and smiles. “I really wouldn’t know.”

  Where has this girl been all my life? I slide her hair over her shoulder and kiss the curve of her neck. “He’s in his seventies and has a pacemaker; I’m in my prime and there’s nothing wrong with my heart. Give me a chance later and I’ll prove it to you.”

  “You’re on.”

  Grateful she’s cosigned for picking up later where we left off, I take her hand and lead us back to the party. Music is thumping. All around me, people smile, laugh, flirt, and talk, but I’m not switching gears
so easily. It’s not just because I was two seconds from spreading Kendall’s legs and sucking the best birthday present she could possibly give me right out of her clit. We agreed on later, and I can deal with the anticipation. Talking to Kendall about my sister is what’s thrown me a curve. I rarely mention Andie. Most of the time when people hear about a loss like that they murmur “sorry” and try to steer the conversation in a different direction fast, but Kendall didn’t. She didn’t treat it like a wrong turn into a dark tunnel and immediately look for a way out. She stuck around. She shined a light. And some of that light has stayed with me.

  Everybody else is sipping drinks and enjoying the lingering traces of sunset. It’s not quite an inner circle, but it’s tight enough that I know at least one person in every three.

  I see my agent’s assistant, Molly, and her boyfriend. A few model friends I’ve worked with. A couple of Matt’s classmates from the Academy. Matt sits next to Amber on the sectional, deep in a conversation. This is much smaller than some of our Saturday night blowouts, but I like the quieter vibe. No Becca. No mood swings or illegal party favors. Everybody’s chill.

  Everyone except Kendall. I’m not sure why, but she’s a ball of nerves. The fingers entwined with mine practically clench with tension. I’d like to call it sexual tension—a residual effect of Dylan interrupting us—because God knows I have plenty of my own to go with hers. But it feels like more.

  Dylan nabs a fresh pitcher from the bar and then walks to the open end of the sectional and sits down. Two girls immediately bookend him, and he fills their drinks. My cell vibrates from the back pocket of my shorts. I’ve already received birthday calls from my mom and dad. I got a gift basket from my agent. Everyone else is here, but I pull my phone out anyway and glance at the screen.

  A text reads, Happy birthday, sexy! It’s from Becca.

  I haven’t heard from her since she left for New York, but she hasn’t missed my birthday for the past five years, so the wish is appreciated. Maybe we can salvage a friendship from the shipwreck of whatever we were, moving forward. Thx, I text back and start to put my phone away. An immediate vibration stops me. I look at the screen.

  I have a surprise for you.

  Uh-oh. I don’t want any surprises.

  The phone vibrates with an incoming text. Knock-knock!

  At the same time, the doorbell rings. Fuck.

  Dylan sets the pitcher down and slides past me. “I got it.”

  I want to say, “Don’t,” but there’s no point. I didn’t expect Becca, didn’t invite her, but as Kendall stares up at me with trusting eyes I feel exactly like the jerk I didn’t want to be.

  I hear the front door open. Dylan’s voice carries. “Can I see your invitation?”

  “I have an open invitation,” Becca replies.

  And then she swoops onto the patio, wearing a straw cowboy hat, lethally high-heeled sandals, and a sprayed-on gold tank dress. The clingy fabric certifies she’s not wearing a stitch more than what we see. She spots me and ambles over, graceful despite the shoes. Kendall stiffens and tries to tug her hand away. I firm my grip. Becca’s come-and-get-me smile fades as she notices Kendall and our linked hands. Her stride slows.

  “Hey, Bec,” My smile feels tight on my face. “Long time no see.”

  She tosses her hair, and her laser-white teeth reappear. “It has been a while. Happy birthday, baby.” If she planned to plant a kiss on me, she adjusts on the fly and gives me a hug instead.

  “Thanks. How did New York treat you?”

  Her smile widens. We’re on her favorite subject—her. “Like a queen.” She gives a careless gesture with her hand. “Parties, parties, parties, meetings, meetings, meetings. I did the spread for Vogue and met with a director about a small but crucial role in a movie he’s filming this fall. I’m headed to Milan next. You should come with.”

  “Good luck with that,” I say, deliberately ignoring her request. At some point I know she and I will need to have a conversation, but not tonight. “This”—I put my arm around Kendall—“is my friend Kendall. Kendall, this is Becca.”

  “Hi,” Becca breezes as she takes stock and tries to figure out whether she should recognize Kendall. “I feel like I’ve seen you before.”

  Shit. They have seen each other. The night I met Kendall for the first time. Shame makes the back of my neck hot. The last thing I want is that night brought up in front of everyone. I make a conscious effort to stop my leg from bouncing.

  Kendall cuts me a brief don’t-worry glance then shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”

  Relief swarms my chest. She’s got my back.

  “Sweatbox Shred at 220 Fitness with that sadist, Antonio?”

  “No. Sorry. I don’t sweat with sadists, and I’m just visiting for the summer. House-sitting for my aunt and uncle next door.”

  “Oh.” The notion momentarily stuns Becca. “You’re a student?”

  “I was. I graduated from NYU this past spring.”

  “Nice. So what next?”

  “Law school.”

  Becca shivers like the very idea chills her to the bone. “Sounds awful.”

  Kendall tenses and wiggles out of my hold. Rather than reply to Becca she turns to me. “I’m going to grab some water.” Then she offers a perfunctory, “Nice to meet you,” to Becca and walks away.

  “Same,” Becca calls to Kendall’s retreating back before her attention jumps back to me. “Congratulations,” she says quietly. “I hear you’re now on the short list for America Rocks.”

  All I really want to do is shake her off and follow Kendall, but she can and will disrupt a party just to get attention, and I don’t want to inflict her on everyone. “Thanks. How’d you hear?”

  “Not from you, my so-called friend. You’re a freaking vault.” She slaps my chest a little too hard to be playful. “A little bird told me, and your dad confirmed when I called to find out about your birthday plans.”

  That explains a lot. Naturally my father would take it upon himself to invite Becca to my party. He’s the one who introduced us several years ago because, in his words, “She’s photogenic and she has a fan base, but she won’t overshadow you.” Touching, right? “Tell the little bird to be quiet. The producers will make an announcement once they’ve reached a decision.”

  Her shrug promises nothing. “Well, you know how little birds are. Is that Molly?” she asks, nodding to my agent’s assistant.

  “Yeah. Go say hi. Tell her about New York.”

  “I will.” She takes a step in her direction and speaks over her shoulder. “After everyone leaves, I’ll deliver your birthday present. Upstairs?”

  I want to permanently pass on the present, but saying so right here, right now, is no way to finesse this situation, so I give her a noncommittal smile. “Not this year. Have fun in Milan.”

  She pulls a face, and for a second her eyes look anguished before she blinks, and I wonder if I’m seeing things. “I will.” Then she makes a beeline toward Molly without a backward glance.

  I scan the deck for Kendall. She’s standing near the cooler with a bottle of water in her hand, looking out over the patio, but she senses my stare and glances at me. She packs a lot of messages into one simple glance. Messages like, What the hell am I doing here? And, What the hell is she doing here? And, I want you, but I wish I didn’t.

  I shove my hands into my pockets and send her a silent request for forgiveness. I’m suddenly ashamed I have someone like Becca in my past. Someone I used and let use me because it was easy—at first—and convenient, and I didn’t want to make waves. It occurs to me I go to great lengths not to make waves. Be charming. Never let it seem like anything gets to me. I don’t know Kendall well yet, but I know she’s not like that. She’s not putting on an act, and she has no ulterior motives. If she’s with someone it’s because she wants to be with him. Right now, today, she wants to be with me. That makes me special—and all the more determined not to mess up.

  “You want me to get r
id of her?” Dylan stands beside me, speaking low. He looks toward Becca.

  Right. As if that would go well. “Thanks, but no. As soon as she works the party and realizes there’s nobody particularly useful to her, she’ll leave.”

  “Your call, man. It’s your birthday. Get yourself a plate.”

  “In a sec.”

  He nods and wanders to the long table at the far end of the patio where the food is set out buffet-style. The pool lights click on, as well as the landscape lights around the area. They put a soft glow on everyone. The music doesn’t quite drown out the hum of conversation. It’s relaxed. I take a long, deep breath and will myself to do the same. Then I head toward the girl taking up space in my head I didn’t know was available…until her. Manners force me to stop and be social when all I really want is to grab Kendall and take up where we left off in my office. Eventually I make it across the deck to stand beside her. She looks up at me and opens her mouth to speak.

  “How do you take your burger?” I ask quickly because I’m almost certain by her expression she’s about to tell me she has to go.

  “I’m not really hungry.” She twists the cap on her water bottle open, then closed. “Thanks for inviting me, but I should probably—”

  “Stay and eat,” I interject, cutting her off. “Or at least keep me company? Come on, I’m starving. I take her hand, but she doesn’t move.

  Instead she faces me, and I hear her next words before she even opens her mouth.

  “Did you invite her?”

  “No.”

  “So…” She pulls her mouth into what she probably thinks is an impassive line, but all it does is make me want to kiss her lips until they soften and open under mine. “You have a surprise guest. I’m sure she’d like to spend time with you and…catch up or whatever.”

  “There’s no whatever,” I correct, and take her hand to lead her down the patio and around the side of the house where we can talk privately.

  “Vaughn—”