Red Hot Kisses

by Addison Moore

  I’m nothing but trouble. I’m the last thing she needs.

  “Hey”—Lawson sucker punches me in the gut, and I double over just enough—“you look like someone kicked you in your balls. You need to stop this self-imposed exile and blow off some steam. You need to get laid stat. Pick a girl, any girl,” he teases as we stare out into the crowd. Ava and Grant are just around the corner from us laughing at something Lucky is telling them.

  “Not those girls.” He’s quick to point my head in the opposite direction as the sorority girls gyrate in a circle to the eardrum bursting beats. The blondes, the brunettes, the redheads, the girls with rainbow-colored wigs all laugh and scream as they raise their red cups to the ceiling. You’d think it were a mating ritual the way the guys have lined up in droves, silently asking to be chosen by one of the Solo-slinging females. But the girl who’s landed me flat on my back, out of breath, without a single rational thought in my mind isn’t anywhere near that bumping, grinding crowd.

  “I’m not interested.” And I shouldn’t be interested in Trixie either.

  Knox heads our way with Harper as if to solidify this theory. They’re both dressed as Roaring Twenties gangsters, and I slap Knox five before hugging it out with Harper.

  “It’s looking Gatsby up in here.” I sock Knox on the arm a little harder than I meant to.

  “Dude.” He kicks me in the shin. “Just because you’re not getting laid doesn’t mean you need to take it out on me. Save it for the court. First game is in three weeks. You’re going to kill it.” He looks to Lawson, unsure, as if questioning my mental well-being. And he’s probably right to do so.

  Harper squeals as she spots Ava and Lucky and heads their way.

  Lawson nods to Knox. “I was just telling Knight here it’s time to cut his balls a little slack. I think tonight’s the night. Let’s get him a good one.”

  The entry to the commons room darkens with bodies flooding in, and I spot four sexed-up kittens, bright red lips, long lashes, cute as hell whiskers. Two of them make a beeline in this direction. One of them happens to be the girl who has my heart twisted up like an oak, and the other happens to be my sister.

  Knox groans, “What’s with the skintight leotard?” he scolds Trixie, and she turns her cute little coal-colored nose up at him. Her dark hair is covered with glitter, her warm vanilla perfume wraps itself around my neck like a noose and I never want it to let go. Her cheeks look ten times higher than usual, her eyes, her lips—it’s clear she’s colored and shaded to her heart’s content, but Trixie doesn’t need any of that stuff to stun. She’s a natural knockout and one I keep imagining myself waking up to. Her arms around my naked waist—those long legs of hers gliding over mine, nothing but skin over skin. The fact I can think these thoughts in front of her brother—two of them—makes me feel like ten times the pig I already know I am.

  Her eyes meet up with mine, shy and unsure for a moment before she takes in a breath and launches into full-on vixen mode. Trixie Toberman is a sight to behold, a goddess to be worshipped, and it’s taking superhuman strength right now not to drop to my knees.

  She snarls at her brother, “I never say a word when you’re running around the field in tights.”

  Lawson belts out a laugh. “She’s got you there, dude.” He blinks over at the crowd a moment. “Maybe you girls could help us out. Rush here is looking to get laid tonight—let off some much-needed steam.”

  “Dude.” Knox winces. “That’s his sister you’re talking to.”

  But I’m not into the awkwardness that the moment might have provided Sunday and me. My eyes are locked over Trixie’s. It’s her pain I feel.

  I should contest it. Make Lawson retract his statement and exchange it for the truth, but something about the fiery rage in Trixie’s eyes makes me reconsider. Maybe I should go with it. This is it, do or die. If I let her think it’s true, she’ll wise up and look the other way anytime I’m around. We won’t get too deep, and I won’t break her heart.

  Trixie swallows hard, and something about that action, the way her lips quivered when she did it, lets me know it might be too late for that.

  “I’m sure we can find an entire assortment of scantily clad ladies to usher you back to the throne.” There’s a hardness in her tone, and I can’t help but flinch when she says that last word. Trixie is pulling out a private conversation we had between us and using it as the sword with which to slay me. And it’s working.

  “I’m out.” Sunday holds a hand up and glares my way. “Just don’t knock anybody up.” She takes off into the crowd just as Lucky pulls Lawson away.

  Knox folds his arms across his chest and shakes his head disapprovingly at his sister. “You do realize people can see every last inch of you.”

  “Eww.” Trixie swats her brother over the arm. “Would you stop staring? You’re seriously a perv.”

  “I’m not the perv you need to worry about, Trix. Guys are here tonight. They’re drunk, and they can freaking see everything you’ve got. Don’t you know not to dress that way?”

  I’m about to step in, but that look on Trixie’s face lets me know she’s got this.

  “I guess I don’t.” She threads her arm through mine, and my heart thumps to life again. “I didn’t exactly have a mother around to teach me these things.” She pulls me off into the crowd with her as the mixer grows far too riotous to ever be safe. But Knox is right. Trixie’s skin-hugging outfit affords me a view of every luscious curve. The feel of her skin bleeds right through the thin fabric, and it’s as if she’s leaning against the right side of my body, naked, just the way my twisted mind wants her to be.

  Trixie blinks those doe eyes up at me, and her eyelashes are ten times longer than usual with glitter tips dotting each one. “How about you, big boy?” she growls it out low and husky. “What do you think of this skimpy little outfit I’ve donned?”

  “I wholeheartedly approve. But the fact that my little sister is running around in the exact same thing makes me want to punch a wall.”

  A devilish gleam hits her eyes. “Seth Baker gave me a hug at the door, and I swear I still feel his hands riding up and down my back.”

  A fire line of rage rips through me, and all I see is red. “Are you trying to make me jealous?”

  “Only if it really pisses you off.” The smile fades from her lips, and her own bright affect is quickly replaced with a newfound hatred for me. “Why the cold shoulder, Knight?” The music is bumping, the walls are shaking, my chest is lit up with the backbeat of some effed up rap song, and yet I heard that delicate crack in her voice.

  I’m about to say something, anything to alleviate her pain, just as a body bumps into me and sends an ice-cold drink down my shirt.

  “Shit.” I bounce back, disconnecting myself from Trixie inadvertently.

  “I’m so sorry!” A toasted version of Marilyn Monroe gloms onto my shoulders, and it’s not until she hacks out a familiar dolphin-like laugh do I realize it’s Miranda. I’ve heard that laugh before in bed. Not at me. Nope. If Miranda was good at anything, it was stroking my ego.

  “Finally!” Trixie chirps with fury. The fire in her eyes lets me know we’re both about to have it. “The manwhore finds his ho. It’s like Christmas came early for the both of you. Only it’s the wrong holiday. It’s the night of unholy horrors.” She jumps up on her tiptoes as she sears the words over my face. But those pointed ears, those adorable whiskers painted on her face still command a smile from me. “It’s fitting, though. The two of you are a match made in hell. I hope you both enjoy the nightmare.” She stalks off and is swallowed by the crowd as the “Werewolves of London” starts to blare over the speakers, and the room explodes in howls.

  “Ignore her. She’s an idiot.” Miranda latches her arms around my neck and proceeds to stick her tongue in my ear.

  “She’s not an idiot.” I pluck myself loose and dive into the crowd after her. “I am.”

  It takes two spastic revolutions around the room to figure out she�
��s nowhere near the vicinity. I spot Sunday dancing with Serena and Harley. Lucky and Lawson are all but dry humping in the corner, and Ava and Grant made an early exit. I spot Knox sneaking Harper down by the exact same spot in the stairwell where they once spotted their exes making out with one another. It looks like tonight is a night of vindication, and I’m going to do just that.

  I duck past the crowd at the door and head out into the mist that’s taken over Hollow Brook. It’s strangely quiet outside compared to the rhythmic thumping going on in the building. There’s not a soul around, and just as I’m about to give up, I spot the unmistakable hint of a tail emanating from the other side of the steps.

  I head over and spot one of my favorite kittens sitting on the other side of the stoop.

  “Hey.” I step over, and she springs to her feet. That same level of rage is still alive in her beautiful eyes. The sky doesn’t need its stars. It doesn’t need its moon either whenever Trixie is around. Trixie glows with her own internal aura of beauty ten times brighter than any heavenly host can hope to achieve and with those kitten ears and tail she’s downright adorable. “I heard Seth was looking for some pussy, so I figure that’s gotta be you.” Lame, but Trixie seems to thrive on conflict, so I went for it.

  Her eyes widen with horror, and I do my best to hide a smile.

  “That’s terrible. Do you even realize you’re speaking?” Her fists spike into her hips.

  I wince at my own foolishness. “You okay?”

  She looks up, and the lamp above shines over her cheeks revealing them to be glossed with tears. I instantly hate myself for it.

  “I’m great.” Those rhinestone lashes bat ten times fast. “You need me to do a run to the bookstore for you and buy a box or twelve of condoms? I’m guessing after such a long hiatus you’re locked and loaded and ready to explode.” She wipes her cheeks with her palms so furtively it looks as if she’s scrubbing her face. “I can find out if Costco is still open and buy them all in bulk.”

  As much as she’s hurting, I can’t help but admire the way her anger only seems to sharpen her beauty. Trixie’s beauty is like that of a very sharp knife, and something about this level of rage grinds it to a fine razor sharp point.

  “You’d do that for me?” That lazy grin she ignites each time she’s around travels up my face. “See if you can find a magnum or a beast. Those smaller sizes are like trying to fit a water balloon on a backyard hose.”

  Her whole body bucks as she gives an incredulous huff. “How about if I cut to the chase and just call the blimp factory—see if they have any extra airships left over?”

  A laugh lives and dies in my chest, and her eyes expand in size at the audacity.

  Her chest trembles. “Maybe I should have a surgeon on standby in the event Miranda needs to be stitched back together after you saw her in half with that industrial-sized penis of yours.” She slaps her hands hard over my chest, and I stagger back. “I hate you!” she rages at the top of her lungs, tears spurting freely from the corners of her eyes. “I think you’re a horrible person for making me fall in love with you, making me believe that you’re a changed man, that you only have eyes for me. You’re just the same old twit you were when I met you!” Her voice echoes off the branches of the pines, it echoes off the silver platter moon hanging low, and reverberates right down to my weary bones where it settles and burns straight to the marrow.

  “What did you say?” I take a breath and hold it.

  “I said I hate you!” she riots right in my face, and my arms steal the moment to wrap themselves around her. My eyes lock over hers, and we stand there like a couple of startled deer, staring one another down, softening to each other with every passing second.

  “That’s funny because I heard I love you.” My lips land over hers, soft and grazing, and it incites a riot deep inside of me to have her. I think maybe Lawson was right. I need to let off some steam, and I think I just found the perfect girl to do it with.

  My girl.

  I pick her up so fast she almost flies out of my arms.

  “Where. Are. You. Taking. Me?” She laughs each word out like it is its own sentence as I dash down the street with her.

  “To my place,” I shout over her giggles and screams.

  “What if my brother sees?” She swats me over the shoulder, laughing so hard she’s crying.

  “He can pull up a chair and watch for all I care.”

  * * *

  The house is warm inside. I don’t bother turning on the lights. The curtains are thinly veiled, letting in just enough moonlight to give the place a powder blue glow.

  I’m out of breath from running, and Trixie is out of breath from laughing so hard. I land her gently on her feet as her chest molds to mine. Her fingers grip my arms as if she were holding on just to keep from falling over.

  “You hurt me.” There’s an undeniable hiccup in her voice. “Why?” It comes out sharp and caustic like a slap to the face.

  “Because that’s what I do.” There. A dash of truth in the event the night wasn’t messy enough.

  “You’re an idiot if you think you can’t control it.” She slaps me over the chest, and the sting feels good. Necessary.

  “Why do you love me?” It comes out sad, disappointed, as if I were trying to make her feel like she did something wrong.

  Trixie wraps her arms around my neck and hikes up on her tiptoes. The moonlight washes her face pale as a stone and highlights those teary trails that are quickly making a comeback.

  “I do. I love you, Rush. I love you because you make me want to be a better person. When all I see is failure, you push me past my limit and show me everything is okay. You walked me right up to my demon and made me see it for what it is—a fake. Even if it does still have a hold on me. I’m trying, though, and I wouldn’t be if it weren’t for you. You see me. You hear me. You tell me that I’m beautiful in such a convincing way I actually believe it.”

  Tears of my own come to the party, and my chest bucks as I swallow them down. A chill runs through me, and all I want is for Trixie to wrap herself around me, keep me warm, keep me happy for the rest of my tired life.

  “You want something with me?” The words croak from me like a demand.

  “Yes.” She shivers through tears. “Hell yes.” She jumps up and wraps her legs around my waist, her lips dotting a spastic series of kisses over my face. “I’m so in love with you I can’t take it anymore. I can’t stand this distance between us. What made you lose your mind this last week? Why weren’t you—you know—interested in me?”

  Her swollen lips quiver, and it breaks my heart all over again.

  “It’s because I just realized something.” The air thickens around us as if the atmosphere itself had leaned in to listen. “I need you. I need you in my life, Trix.” My fingers dig into her thighs as I continue to hold her up. “I need you by my side, your lips on mine. I need your mean as all hell humor. I need your encouragement. Your kind words, though they are few.” She takes a moment to swat my arm, and we share a laugh. “And mostly, I just need you to know that I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. You’re it for me, Trix. I don’t want anyone else. Ever since that night you pulled me into that bathroom, I’ve only had eyes for you. If there is another girl on campus, I can’t see her. All I see is you. I see you everywhere Trix. In the sky, the trees. You’ve been haunting my dreams, my waking hours. You’re all I think of in and out of my bed.”

  She takes in a quick breath as her mouth falls open. “In your bed? Now that’s somewhere I’ve never been. How about you do a quick introduction between that famed mattress of yours and me? Does he have a name? Jed? Thomas?”

  A dark laugh bucks through me as I carry her to the bedroom. “If my bed was called anything, it wouldn’t be some dude’s name. It’d be something beautiful and fierce like Trixie.”

  “It’s Beatrix.” She holds out her hand as if waiting for me to shake it, and I take it and kiss it instead.

  “What a coi
ncidence. That’s the name of my bed.”

  I land her softly over the mattress, and her hair splays out like a series of knives. I can’t help but smile at the sight. Trixie is a dangerous vixen in the most literal sense.

  “So I finally made it. Ground zero,” she whispers, all of the bravado stripped from her voice.

  I land on top of her, my elbows straddling her on either side to redistribute my weight.

  “Trixie,” her name expires from my lips like a poem. “You sure you want to do this? We don’t have to.”

  “What? So I can listen to you whine about your blue balls for another second longer? Not on your horny life. I’m in.” Her knee gently grazes over the blue balls in question, and a moan escapes me.

  “I’m serious.” I brush the hair from her forehead and land a kiss to the tip of her nose.

  “I’m serious, too.” Her voice is quiet and tempered, wholeheartedly convincing. “I want to be with you, Rush. You belong to me.”

  It’s as if the universe unraveled in the split second it took her to utter those words, and then magically sewed itself right back up.

  “I belong to you?” That crooked grin of mine dances up my cheek. “What a coincidence. You belong to me.”

  I lean in and land a chaste kiss over her lips, soft and achingly slow. My organs grind as my body begs me to catch up with my hormones and ravish her in a few hungry bites. But that was what the old me would do. The new me realizes that everything with Trixie has to come in stages. The timing needs to be just right.

  First, I’m going to make love to her slow and easy, losing myself in her as I make her mine in the most intimate way. And then, I’m going to unleash the beast that’s been pent up inside me for far too long and ravage the ever-loving hell right out of her.

  Trixie might have a little bite to her.

  But tonight, I bite right back.