Tempting

by Crystal Kaswell

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Kaylee

  I get lost in my routine. Breakfast with Emma. School. Homework. Watching movies with Brendon on the couch. Writing. Reading. Bed—sometimes his, sometimes mine, sometimes without much sleeping involved.

  Long weekend mornings with him. Work. Shower. Crashing in his bed.

  Stopping by the shop after school so I can see him before he gets home.

  Even though it means if you're going to hang out, help out stares from Ryan.

  And attagirl winks from Dean.

  Okay, I kind of like the attagirl winks.

  It's Thursday, the night of the concert, the night before I leave for New Jersey, and the shop is about to close. I'm already in my I'm totally a rocker chick denim skirt, converse, artfully torn up (by Emma) band t-shirt combination. I'm even wearing heavy makeup.

  And I'm sitting behind the counter, watching Brendon work on a sleeve. The tattoo is meant to look like a robot arm, like skin stretched over metal. It's intricate and grueling, and the guy in the chair is gritting his teeth, refusing a break.

  God, Brendon looks so handsome with that stern yet caring expression.

  "Kinky Kaylee." Dean taps the front desk. He nods to the laptop—my laptop—sitting in front of me. "What are you writing there?"

  Em calls me Kinky Kaylee. Sometimes. Why is Dean? Oh. "Did Em—"

  He nods. "She came up to me all giggly. Asked if I'd been seeing anyone lately."

  "I can explain."

  "Nah. Don't. Apparently, I'm the reason you're walking around with that satisfied look on your face."

  My cheeks flush.

  "I must be quite the fuck."

  "You have no idea."

  "I'd like to."

  I shake my head.

  He pushes himself onto the counter. Turns so he's facing the same direction I am. "How long have you been staring at him?"

  "I wouldn't call it staring."

  "I've been watching. It's staring."

  "It's loving appreciation."

  "Of his ass."

  "Well." I motion to said ass—Brendon is standing to grab something off a shelf. His customer is finally taking a break. "Look at it." It really is a thing of beauty.

  "I've seen it."

  "Try seeing it without the clothes."

  "Been there, done that."

  I clear my throat.

  "You don't want to know."

  "Actually, I do."

  He shakes his head. "Nah, Kinky K. It's too kinky even for you."

  "Then wouldn't that make me un-kinky K? Vanilla K?"

  "Special K?"

  I stick my tongue out. "Say it again and I'll—"

  "Sic your boyfriend on me?"

  Boyfriend. That's a nice word. It makes me warm everywhere. Brendon as my boyfriend. He basically is my boyfriend. Except for the matter of this being a secret from my best friend slash his sister.

  And all of my family.

  My mom will flip when she finds out.

  Okay. The warmth is receding.

  "Why have you seen Brendon's ass?" I ask. "Don't tell me you two—"

  "Threesome."

  "What?" I turn so I can examine Dean's expression. It's earnest. Well, not exactly. But he's not lying. Probably. He's hard to read what with his penchant for fucking with people. "You and Brendon had a threesome?"

  "Forever ago."

  "Oh."

  "It was a nice ass."

  "Don't even."

  "This guy bothering you?" Walker moves behind the counter. Motions to the appointment book to my left. "You mind if I do some actual business?"

  "Who died and made you Ryan?" Dean asks.

  Walker looks from Dean to me. "You and Dean, huh? Pretty crazy, how Em seems to think he's blowing your mind."

  "Crazy," I agree.

  "Must be some book you're working on," Walker says. "To be as kinky as—" He nods to Brendon, now back in the chair, working on the sleeve. "Dean."

  "Is this a lecture?" I gather my hair on my right shoulder. "Because I'm not sure I can take a lecture about not lying or about sex or about anything, really from either of you."

  "Really, Kay? I can't lecture you about not swimming after getting fresh ink?" Dean chuckles. "That's a good way to get a wicked infection."

  "I don't have any ink," I say.

  "Yet. With you and Brendon all kissy face, I give it..." Dean scrunches his brow. "Two weeks."

  "A hundred bucks says it's longer," Walker offers.

  "Can I get in on this?" I ask

  Dean shakes his head. "Third parties only."

  Okay. That's fair. And I'm not even pissed about Dean and Brendon betting about my virginity.

  Dean did it to push Brendon.

  It worked.

  Everything worked out.

  Everything is perfect.

  With Brendon.

  Tomorrow...

  I'll face tomorrow's realities then.

  Dean turns to me. "I'm more than happy to be your beard, but Emma is gonna figure it out. And you know Emma when she gets pissed."

  "Yeah." I do. Everyone knows but her. That's going to hurt.

  "Damn, Kay. You're looking at him the way a dog looks at a bone," Walker says.

  "Well, look at him? Can you blame me?" I ask.

  "She used that one on me." Dean laughs. "You're getting my sloppy seconds."

  Walker cringes. "No fucking way." He looks to me. "He has a certain charm."

  "Emma calls him Mr. Look at What a Brooding Bad Boy I Am," I say.

  "She's got him pegged," Walker says.

  "Yeah. But he's so much more." I tap my toes together. God, the way that shirt stretches over his strong shoulders. The way all his focus and attention is turned toward his work... He's perfect.

  "You're gonna make her jealous," Dean teases.

  "Brooding isn't my type." Walker shakes his head.

  "You have a type?" I ask. Walker isn't exactly... discriminating.

  "Breathing," Dean offers.

  "And your type?" Walker asks.

  "Breathing and hot." Dean chuckles.

  I turn my attention to my laptop. I'm up to four chapters. And it's actually coming together. Even if this book never amounts to more than a file on my computer, it feels good working on it.

  "I can't help it I love watching a woman come." Walker's sigh is dreamy. "The groaning. The shaking. The screaming my name—it's fucking poetry."

  "They remember your name?" Dean teases.

  "Yeah, I know that's never happened to you."

  "It's easy. Four letters. Starts with the thing they're begging for."

  "D? That's awful."

  "Fuck off."

  "You first."

  Dean turns to me. "Why are you here, Kay?"

  "We're going to a concert," I say. "Me, Brendon, and Em."

  "Shit." Dean slides off the counter. So he's next to me. Right next to me—there isn't a lot of space behind the counter. "I need to play my part?"

  "No. We're picking Emma up on the way." I close my laptop and slide it into my backpack. "But thanks." I'm pretty sure Dean is trying to help. Just in a Dean kind of way.

  "Joel's band, right?" Dean asks.

  "Dangerous Noise, yeah." I zip my backpack and bring it to the counter. I'm almost ready. It's almost eight. As soon as Brendon finishes, we can go.

  And I get a precious few minutes alone in his car before we grab Emma.

  God, I've been craving him more and more every day.

  There's something about knowing he really sees me, even the ugly parts—it's addicting.

  "You know, Joel was asking about you," Dean says.

  "What?" I bite my lip to keep from blushing.

  "Brendon filled him in on all sorts of details."

  "You mean—"

  "Gotta say, Kay. It was pretty fucking hot. I can see why you're into him. Man's got a mouth."

  "You have no idea."

  Dean chuckles. "If he ever gives you shit,
you call me."

  I study Dean's expression. He's actually sincere. Sweet even. Weird. "Okay."

  "Me too." Walker offers me a hug.

  I take it.

  "You're a good kid," Walker says. "You ever need ink, you know who to call."

  Dean takes his turn giving me an attagirl hug. "Or breakup sex."

  "You have a problem." Walker shakes his head.

  "Just want the girl to know she has options," Dean insists.

  "Look at her." Walker turns to me. "Kay, you've got options in spades. You're hot. And guys dig the librarian thing."

  I adjust my glasses instinctively. "Are these really librarian glasses?"

  "Fuck, like we know? We don't read," Walker says.

  I motion to the Kindle in his suite. "You read all the time."

  "Genre fiction," he says.

  "What's wrong with genre fiction?"

  "You seem more highbrow," he says.

  I shake my head.

  Dean chuckles. "Told you. She's writing some dirty book like the ones she's always reading."

  "No." That blush threatens to inflame my cheeks. "It's a coming of age story."

  "Sexually?" Dean raises a brow.

  "That's part of it." A lot of it. "Sex is a part of life."

  "Erotica. Nice." Dean nods.

  "Just 'cause something has sex, doesn't make it erotica." Walker shakes his head. "Fucking plebeians, huh?"

  I nod.

  "Okay, Kay. Let me ask you this. What words are you using?" Dean asks.

  "For?"

  He motions to his crotch.

  "Uh..."

  "Cock?"

  "Sometimes."

  "Cunt?"

  "I need to hit someone?" Brendon's steady voice flows into my ears. He's right there. In front of the counter. His eyes meet mine. You good?

  I nod. This is actually kinda fun.

  He looks to Dean. Then to Walker. "Why are you here? We're closed."

  "For the show." Dean motions to the two of us. "And to hang with my girl. Haven't you heard? I'm giving it to Kay real good. Even promised to tie her up and spank her if she writes her dirty book."

  "It's not dirty." Okay, it's a little dirty.

  "He's gonna hit you," Walker says.

  "Nah. Look how happy he is." Dean motions to Brendon's attempt at a stern expression. It's failing. He's too smiley.

  He is.

  And I am too.

  It's just... perfect.

  Dean laughs. "Kinky Kaylee. You're using 'cunt' aren't you?"

  "Well." I wink at Brendon. "It's a powerful word."

  Chapter Forty

  Kaylee

  Brendon's hands go to my hips. Then his body is against mine and he's pinning me to the passenger side door.

  "Fuck, Kay." His voice is breathy, heavy. "You wear that to torture me?"

  I nod.

  "I'm gonna have to punish you for that."

  This time, I only barely manage to nod.

  He rocks his hips against mine as he kisses me. It's hard. Deep. Hungry.

  "Brendon. We shouldn't. Em..." I can't finish my sentence. I'm too busy sliding my hands into his hair and pressing my lips to his.

  He tastes so good.

  Like he's mine.

  I never get enough of it.

  He traces the hem of my skirt. Then his hands are sliding beneath it. And he's pressing his palm against me, over my panties.

  His tongue slides around mine.

  His hand knots in my hair.

  He pulls back with a heavy sigh.

  My glasses are titled. My lipstick is smeared all over his face.

  "Here." I wipe his lips with my thumb. But the feel of those soft lips against the pad of my digit only makes me more desperate to have him. "Is it too late to ditch this concert?"

  He nods.

  "To—" I nod to the backseat.

  "We'd get arrested even if it weren't."

  "Worth it."

  He nods. "For me, yeah. But for you—" He steps backward.

  My body cries for his. My heart is singing from the whole him protecting me from my raging libido thing. But my body is having none of it.

  "Come on." He motions to the door. "Get in. Let's pick up Em."

  "Okay." I slide into my seat. Click my seatbelt. Fix my smeared makeup in the mirror.

  We're quiet as he turns the car on and pulls onto the street. We don't have to say anything. That I want to fuck you tension is hanging heavy in the air. It's all I can think.

  Brendon pulls into the parking garage and stops by the elevators.

  Emma bounces to the car. She's wearing skinny jeans and a ripped up, cropped shirt adorned with the logo of her second favorite band. Darkest Days. Its red logo matches her hair. And her lipstick.

  She slides into the backseat. "Hey."

  "Hey." That I need to fuck you tone seeps into my voice.

  Emma shoots me a what's up with you look.

  I shrug.

  "Earth to Brendon?" She clicks her seatbelt. When he doesn't respond, she presses on. "You two get into a fight or something?"

  Or something, yeah. "You know your brother and his music taste."

  "Yeah." She looks to him. Examines him the way she examined me. "You can drop us at the show if you prefer that."

  He doesn't say anything.

  "Brendon? Hello." Emma taps him on the shoulder. "Are you okay?"

  "Yeah." His voice still has that breathy edge. He shakes it off. "Why are you wearing another band's shirt?"

  "Duh. Everyone knows it's lame to wear the same band's t-shirt to a concert," she says.

  "Do they?" His voice is almost back to normal.

  "Everyone cool," I say. "That must not include you."

  He chuckles. It's too rich. Too hearty. Too full of affection.

  Emma shakes her head. "I swear, if I didn't know better..." I'd swear you're fucking.

  Something flares in her eyes.

  Like she's considering the possibility of us fucking.

  Like it's the only reasonable explanation for our behavior the last month and change.

  Damn, this is one packed club.

  There must be two thousand people crammed into a space that usually holds far less. Everything is black—the floor, the walls, the stage, the attire of most of the patrons.

  The opening band is playing. I recognize the song from the radio, but I can't put a name to it.

  The lead singer has his hand around the mic. He's pouring his heart into his performance. And he's cute. He has the rocker hottie thing going in spades. Skinny jeans. Black t-shirt. Leather jacket. Spikey hair. Facial piercings.

  "Think he's got the tongue too?" Emma asks.

  "What is that like?" I ask.

  "Are you calling me a slut, babe? Because I take that as a compliment." She laughs.

  "You wish you were a slut," I say.

  "You know I'm right here," Brendon chimes in.

  She shrugs. "And a shining example of slut." She turns to her brother with a coy smile. "I'll never live up to your standards."

  He rolls his eyes.

  "You had a long dry streak there." She folds her arms over her chest. "Who finally broke it?"

  Brendon arches a brow. What are you talking about?

  "There were condom wrappers in your bathroom trash can." She shrugs like this is a normal thing to notice.

  "You have your own bathroom," he says.

  "Kay was using it."

  "There's one downstairs."

  "She was using the shower." Emma's eyes narrow as she stares at her brother. "It's not like I opened your drawers or something. They were right there in the open. That's um... in plain sight. It's legal."

  "You been watching Law and Order?" he asks.

  She nods. "That's also legal." Her eyes go to me then back to him. "Just kinda funny. The two of you getting laid at the same time."

  "Hilarious." Unease seeps into his voice.

  Emma turns toward the stage. Watches as
the guitarist steps forward to shred through his solo. He's also cute. Tall. Broad. Stoic in that Brendon kind of way.

  Emma tilts her head to one side. "Maybe I should get an eyebrow piercing."

  "Cute." I nod.

  She lets her voice get loud. "Or maybe my nipples."

  "You trying to piss me off?" Brendon asks.

  "No. I'm trying to talk to my best friend. No one invited you to eavesdrop." She does nothing to hide the irritation in her voice.

  But it's not the eavesdropping.

  It's the suspicion.

  She knows.

  Or she's going to know soon.

  This isn't good.

  I squeeze Emma's arm. "Shh. I love this song."

  She play swats me.

  I play swat her back.

  Her smile is normal. Like she's not trying to figure out if I'm sleeping with her brother.

  I do love this song.

  I focus on the guys on stage. On the music flowing into my ears. On the sway of my hips.

  Then on belting out the chorus. The one I've heard a million times.

  Emma sings with me.

  And everything is normal.

  All the way through the end of the song.

  The singer smiles. "We've got a few more. You guys excited to hear Dangerous Noise?"

  The crowd cheers.

  Emma too.

  "We've had a blast this tour. We want to thank them for inviting us. And to thank all of you for showing up tonight." He turns back to his band and shoots them a thumbs up.

  Then the bassline is kicking in.

  And the drums are pounding.

  A guitar riff fills the air.

  Then this low roar of a verse.

  Emma turns back to Brendon. "Are you sticking around?"

  "How else can I ruin your good time," he teases.

  "Oh." Her eyes light up. "We're on the list. Why are we here. We could be backstage."

  "Because here is fun?" I offer.

  "And backstage isn't?" She motions to the hall where we came in. "Only a few songs left. Now is our chance."

  He looks to me for permission.

  I nod. This will be fun. And it won't advance Emma's suspicion. I think.

  He nods back. "Follow me."

  Emma steps forward. "No, follow me."

  She cuts through the crowd expertly. I follow just as swiftly. We've got a lot of experience weaving through crowded venues.

  The lighting dims as we step into the hallway. There's a security guy guarding a door at the other end of the hall. The one opposite where we came in. He has an earpiece and a clipboard. A this is the list kind of clipboard.