by MK Schiller
Chapter Thirteen
On Thursday night, Kyle showed up at Lanie’s house, sporting a tight black T-shirt and jeans.
“You’re kidding me, right?” she asked and clasped her hand to her mouth.
“It’s your first dance. I can at least make it as memorable as possible,” he said with a smirk.
Lanie made them pasta. Kyle helped her but almost chopped his fingers off when she brushed up against him. He watched her lips all through dinner. They were beautiful lips, full and sensual. He brought an overnight bag this time. There was no kidding himself anymore. She went to the bathroom claiming she needed to change into something more comfortable. He lay on her bed praying she wouldn’t come out in a garden tent again. He wondered if she’d wear that frilly, pink number. Then again, maybe she was saving that for Brad. Shit, Brad kind of looked like Patrick Swayze, for God’s sake! Fuck Brad. Kyle tried to push the thought out of his head.
She came out then, nervously biting her lower lip, wearing a long terry cloth robe. Kyle rolled his eyes, wondering what kind of sadistic pleasure she got in torturing him by keeping all her lovely assets under wraps. He walked over to her and pulled her against his chest, willing all thoughts to clear his head. He wanted to think with his other head. The one he usually used in these situations.
He laid her on the bed and reached for the knot on her robe. She shook her head. “Can you turn off the lights please?”
He complied, silently wondering if she was asking him that so she could imagine Brad. Or maybe Johnny Castle? Who the fuck knew, but it was freaking Kyle out. He took off his shirt and jeans and lay back on the bed next to her. He tried to focus solely on his erection and not the rampant thoughts in his head. She helped him greatly by straddling him. She bent down, kissing his neck, creating a trail as she moved lower. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Guess what else I Googled?” she replied, running her lips down his chest.
“Oh God, I love the Internet,” Kyle whispered.
“I know…so…informative,” Lanie replied, brushing her chin against his erection. Kyle growled in anticipation.
She lowered his boxer briefs to reveal the hard, stiff column inside. There was enough moonlight streaming through the window that he watched her stare at it, like she was unsure of the next move. Kyle was about to make a comment when she slid her tongue up and down his shaft. She took his tip in her mouth, and he hissed, trying desperately not to flex his hips and force himself deeper. He felt her take in more of him, then stop, then a little more, then stop. Then she licked around the tip, tracing it with her tongue. Kyle wondered if she was torturing him again. She kept doing it, and he wanted to feel the heat of her entire mouth and those sexy lips purse around his width. He waited, silently cursing with each slow, tormenting movement of her tongue.
“Come here,” he finally said, reaching for her shoulders.
“I’m not done,” she said.
“You’re done.” He pulled her up and then rolled her over so he was on top of her. He wanted to feel her underneath him, but instead he just felt the soft terry cloth of her robe. Oh fuck, let her leave it on if that’s what she wants. He pressed kisses to the hollow of her neck until he heard her moaning. It was time. He sat up and grabbed the foil packet he’d placed on her nightstand.
“Kyle, you don’t have to do that,” she whispered, clasping his arm.
He stopped and looked at her. “Why is that?”
He couldn’t see her in the dark, but he knew from the waver in her voice she was blushing. “I went on birth control.”
He told himself not to ask the question, but as usual wasn’t able to stop himself. “Did you do that for me?”
“Well, you said it was better and that you just got tested. I figured if it was better, I should be prepared, you know?”
Stop thinking, Kyle. Stop it. But he couldn’t. “For me?” His voice had a sharp edge, and he hated himself for it.
“Yes, and you know…in case…” He heard the hesitation and the unspoken words, and he was done. He knew what she was thinking. She went on fucking birth control for Brad, and the bitter thought made his raging hard-on suddenly soften. That had never happened to him. For a second he was shocked and embarrassed, but then he was just pissed…at her.
He shot out of the bed and groped around for his clothes.
“Kyle, what are you doing?” she asked, sitting up.
“Leaving. Have fun with Johnny Castle,” he hissed at her.
“I don’t understand. What did I do?”
He pulled on his pants, commando-style because he couldn’t find his boxers. He felt the wall for the light switch and stared at her. She was a vision of loveliness sitting on the bed, her reddish-brown curls falling around her, against the robe that looked like a white cloud. She looked like an angel to him. And she was completely confused, biting her lip so vigorously that it was going to leave a mark. Kyle felt remorse, but the acid in his heart grew, almost relationally to the shrinking of that other member of his body.
“What the hell is wrong with you? You’re infatuated with a guy who’s fucking your sister in the next room every night. It’s sick, don’t you think?”
She looked down at her hands. “I told you I don’t think like that.”
“Sure you do. Do you have daddy issues or something? Is that it? Was Cassie Daddy’s favorite and now you feel inadequate? Do you feel the need to steal her boyfriend to make up for it? That’s pretty disgusting. And for what? For that sorry asshole?”
“Kyle, shut the fuck up!” she screamed.
“He’s not the guy you think he is. You have him on a fucking pedestal. He’s a bastard.”
“Stop it. Stop talking.” Tears ran down her cheeks, but Kyle couldn’t stop. The anger had built up in him, and it was ready to erupt.
“You were right. A girl did come between us. You know what your precious Brad did? Know what kind of guy he is?”
“Please stop,” she whispered.
“He got my sister pregnant when she was sixteen.” The bewildered, hurt look on her face told him his words hit home. “Don’t worry. There are no little Brads running around. She had an abortion. And you know who was there for her? Who took her? Me! That’s right. Brad couldn’t even be there for her. He didn’t even show up. That’s the man you’re in love with, Lanie.” He knew he had gone too far. Hell, he should have never started, but it was too late now.
She was quiet for a long time. He found his shirt and waited for her to respond. When she finally did, her voice was barely louder than a whisper. “He made a mistake.”
“So did I.” Kyle slammed the door to her bedroom before storming out of her apartment. Once he got to his car, he realized he’d left his keys inside and his overnight bag.
He needed to calm down anyway. He started walking briskly down her street. His thoughts came out as nonsensible, jumbled rambles. He had no idea what he was doing or where he was going. He was fuming with anger. Anger at Lanie? Maybe, but only because she deserved better than Brad. She deserved someone who put her on a pedestal. Was he mad at Brad? Yes, sir, he hated Brad right now. The more he walked, the more it became apparent that he was most angry with himself. And then the guilt washed over him like a tidal wave, threatening to drown him. Oh God, he had just walked out on Lanie. She had so many insecurities as it was, and he just added to them. She was probably freaking out right now in that empty apartment. How could he be so cruel? Everyone pushed her around, and now Kyle was a card-carrying member of that club. He hated himself for it.
He turned around and walked back to her apartment, practicing his apology. He would leave her alone after this. They were obviously very bad for each other, and as much as Kyle wanted her, he couldn’t do casual with her. It fucked with his mind too much. God, he had wanted to fuck her so bad, but this wasn’t healthy. Then again, was it healthy to sleep with a different woman every other night? Kyle stopped in his tracks, realizing he hadn’t had sex with anyone since they mad
e their arrangement, which was completely out of character for him. He’d had several opportunities to, including three invitations from his regular booty calls, and he ignored them. He also had a few new numbers from girls he met at the bar. He hadn’t called them. What did that mean?
It means, you idiot, that you need to sleep with her. If you sleep with her, you’ll get her out of your head. Maybe it was the virgin thing. Some kind of secret, fucked-up fantasy his subconscious was giving him grief over. He doubted she’d want him after this. Hell, he couldn’t blame her. Then the guilt came again, in waves crashing into him. He was such an ass. She didn’t deserve this. He should leave her alone. But then again, if she wanted him still, then wouldn’t that be cruel too?
She looked so beautiful even in that silly robe. He so wanted to look under that robe. Fuck, now he was hard. “Now you decide to show up,” he chided his favorite body part, adjusting himself.
He walked back hastily, wondering how Patrick Swayze managed to dance in such a tight shirt. He stood awkwardly at her front door. He knocked on the door softly.
Cassie answered. Just great. She came home. Of course, what other way could this night go?
“Hi there,” she greeted in a husky voice, motioning him inside.
“I’m here to see Lanie.” Kyle marched past her. She managed to run in front on him, blocking his entrance to the small hallway that led to Lanie’s bedroom.
“Lanie’s probably sleeping by now,” Cassie said, licking her lower lip. Kyle wondered how much more his aching head could handle tonight. Was Cassie actually coming onto him?
“I hear her television,” Kyle replied, wondering if it would be wise to shove Cassie out of the way. He’d never hit a woman, but shoving? Shoving was allowed, wasn’t it?
“She falls asleep to it every night.”
“I guess I’ll tuck her in then.” Kyle advanced, pushing past Cassie, but she shifted, blocking him again. “Kyle, you’re really hot. Actually, ridiculously handsome would be a better description. Are you seriously interested in my sister?”
He stared at her incredulously. “Yes, I am. What’s your point?”
“I guess my point is Lanie’s sleeping and Brad’s out of town.”
“Again, what’s your point?”
“It just seems like great timing, that’s all. No one would have to know. I’m good at keeping a secret,” she said, running her finger down his shirt.
Kyle grabbed her wrist, removed her hand from his body, and released it with force. “You completely disgust me. Now get the hell out of my way.”
She moved aside. “Don’t tell Brad.” The desperation dripped from her voice. “I’ll tell him you’re lying if you do.”
He turned to her, shaking his head. “What about Lanie? Shouldn’t someone tell Lanie?”
There was no guilt in her expression. She just shrugged her shoulders. The same way Lanie did. It sickened Kyle. He didn’t have time for this bullshit. He walked into Lanie’s bedroom and closed the door behind him. The lights were off, but the television was on. She was watching an infomercial. He turned on the lights, and there she sat in the bed with a glass of clear liquid in her hand. Her beautiful golden eyes were bloodshot when she looked at Kyle.
Kyle slid hesitantly onto the bed next to her. “Hi,” he said sheepishly.
“Hi,” she replied and took a swig from her glass. She winced at the taste but swallowed it. He took it from her and sipped it.
“Jesus, you’re drinking vodka straight up?”
“Yep,” she replied, keeping her eyes on the television.
“Why are you drinking? You don’t drink.”
“Don’t tell me what I don’t do, you jerk.” Kyle could tell she wanted her voice to be strong, but it was raspy and choked, like she’d been crying very hard. “Besides, we were out of ice cream.”
She reached for the bottle on the nightstand to refill the glass. Kyle grabbed it from her. “You’re cut off.”
“Hey, that’s mine. You can’t cut me off in my own house.”
“This is yours?” He stared in disbelief at the tall, frosted bottle of Grey Goose.
“No, it’s Brad’s. He left it here, but possession is nine-tenths of the law.” She laughed cynically, trying to grab it back from him to refill her glass, but Kyle kept his grip firm. He took a long swig straight from the bottle, hoping the liquid courage would calm his nerves. Lanie was obviously in a very dark place if she was drinking, and he had put her there.
“Was this a new bottle?” She nodded slowly. “You drank half a bottle? I was only gone for forty minutes. Jesus, Lanie, you’re going to pass out.”
“It’s funny how fast you can get used to something.” The pure melancholy in her voice caused Kyle to wince.
“Why are you drinking?”
She laughed a little hysterically. “Well, let’s see. You insulted me and then rejected me.”
Kyle shook his head. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things. I was just having a really fucked-up moment in my head. I didn’t reject you. It wasn’t you. It was me.”
“Are you seriously giving me the whole ‘it wasn’t you, it was me’ bullshit? You think I’m so stupid I don’t know what that means?”
“Lanie, it’s true. I want you so badly, you have no idea.”
“Then why did you leave?”
“Because I’m an idiot.”
“Well, that’s true.” They didn’t speak for a while. Lanie kept looking at the bottle Kyle clutched in his hands under his watchful guard. “Why did you forgive Brad for what he did to Rachael?”
Kyle took another swallow from the bottle, wondering if he should drink all of Brad’s vodka. Fuck Brad. “I forgave him because Rachael did. He made amends and begged for her forgiveness. It took her months to accept his apology, but she did. It took me years.”
Lanie leaned her head back to stare at the ceiling. “I asked him out first, you know.” She slurred slightly. Kyle wondered how much of this she’d remember in the morning.
“You did?”
“Yep, I asked him out for drinks one night. I thought we had a good time, but I didn’t know if he considered it a date or not. We mostly talked about work, so he probably thought it was just colleagues going out for a drink. I stowed up the courage to ask him over here to cook dinner for him. Cassie wasn’t supposed to be home, but she was. After that…well, you can guess what happened after that. I don’t want to steal him from her, Kyle. I just think we might be good together…good for each other. I don’t think about him, except abstractly that way. The way you might…think about Julia Roberts.”
“Yeah, Julia Roberts doesn’t work with me or hang out at my apartment, Lanie.”
“I know, but imagine if she did. That’s what it’s like. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I just want to drink and learn about this knife. It can cut through a can and everything.” She gestured to the television where a small British man was performing an absurd demonstration of a blade cutting through items that made no sense.
“Fine, let’s watch it.”
”I think you should go. I don’t want you here.”
“Sorry, can’t do that.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re going to need someone to hold your hair back”—he glanced over at her—“or maybe take you to the hospital to get your stomach pumped.”
“I don’t like you very much right now,” she replied, crossing her arms.
“That’s too bad because I like you very much.”
“Okay, do you want to have sex?”
“Absolutely not. At least not now.”
“Why not?” she asked, pouting.
“Because you’re drunk, and it’s not a good idea. I would be taking advantage of you. I might be taking advantage either way, but I won’t have it like this.”
“I’m not drunk,” she said with slur, ignoring or perhaps not understanding his statement.
“Enough, Lanie. Let’s just watch this fucking kn
ife commercial and go to sleep, okay?” Kyle wanted to sound convincing, maybe even commanding, but his voice was just pleading.
“Why would I need someone to hold my…” She never finished the sentence. Lanie scrambled off the bed and ran to the bathroom. He followed her straight to the toilet and held her hair as he promised. Kyle rubbed small circles against her back and brought her a cold, damp washcloth to wipe her face. When she was done retching, he fetched her water and some aspirin. Kyle stood behind her, clasping her hips, while she brushed her teeth and washed her face, letting her lean back on him for support. He whispered words of comfort, but she was incapable of listening. She turned toward the toilet again, and he walked her toward it, but only dry heaves came out. Kyle pulled her onto his lap, and they sat on the bathroom floor until she fell asleep. Then he carried her back to the bed.
He laid on her on the bed and watched her. She shifted uncomfortably in her robe. Kyle lifted her up, untied the knot in the robe’s belt, and removed the robe. He almost gasped at the sight of her body. She wasn’t naked as he’d suspected. She had worn the pink bustier for him. The silk and lace hugged her body seductively, revealing her creamy skin and ample cleavage. Kyle adjusted her carefully so she was on her side. Her body was perfect, except for the long, jagged scar that ran along her chest and collarbone. He traced it with his fingertip. It was such an odd area to have a scar. Not the kind of place a kid would normally get hurt. The misshapen line told him it couldn’t be from a surgery. It sliced deeply, dividing the perfect smooth skin like a gravel path separating clean sand. Kyle winced, thinking of the physical pain such an injury would cause, let alone the mental ache of seeing it every day in the mirror. It had to be the reason she covered herself so much.
He traced it again, whispering softly, “Who hurt you, Lanie?”
She moaned and rolled over. He lay on the other side, staring at her sleeping form. She looked beautiful even in her drunken stupor. Enjoying the sight of a woman sleeping should have been as appealing to Kyle as watching paint dry. There was something mesmerizing about watching Lanie though. He told himself he was just surveying her to make sure she didn’t choke on her vomit, but she didn’t have anything else in her system. The moonlight streaming through the window cast a soft glow on the milky perfection of her buttery-soft skin, possibly her best feature. It was like admiring a work of art. Her glossy hair fell across her face. Kyle pushed it up behind her ear, careful not to disturb her. Her rosy lips pursed when she breathed. Crap, I’m hard again, Kyle thought, shaking his head and making his way to the bathroom.