by Lyla Payne
The one I’d been working on was inspired by my own experience, a story about a family ripped apart by drug abuse. I’d read the scripts of at least twenty feature and short films that dealt with the subject, and this was my fourth draft of my project. It was missing something—that little spark that made it special, made it different from all the other drug abuse stories out there—and even though I knew it had a problem, I hadn’t figured out how to fix it. Yet.
Kennedy was conked out hard, so after staring at the forty-two page script for a couple of hours, I decided to grab a shower. The hot water worked its magic on the tension, turning my back into a series of leaden balls, and with nothing to distract me, my thoughts turned to just what the hell I thought I was doing with that girl in my bed.
The bottom line was that I liked her, and there didn’t seem to be a point in denying it. We’d had a spark between us since the first time she’d kissed me, and having sex hadn’t done anything to get rid of it. The opposite, actually.
I’d never met a girl who made me want to put in the time. It seemed equally foolish to put the time in with this particular girl as it did to walk away from her. The answer seemed to be what they tell people in Narcotics or Alcohol Anonymous—one day at a time. One day of being together, of trying to trust her, to earn her trust. One day of not drinking or needing pain to feel, then maybe another.
The only problem was, I thought as I stared down at her again with cool droplets of water clinging to my chest, was not drowning with her when she waded back into the deep end of the pool. When I took chances like Kennedy, I put my family’s livelihood at risk, too.
I slid under the covers, careful not to disturb her, and closed my eyes. It was only late afternoon, but a nap wouldn’t kill me.
*
The room was dark when my eyes opened. The clock on my phone said it was after 7:00 p.m., but Kennedy’s breathing remained deep and steady on the other side of the bed. If she was going to take more pain meds—which were overdue—she needed to wake up and eat something.
I scooted over and pulled her into my arms with care, hugging her loose against my chest so it wouldn’t hurt. And so she didn’t feel the wood I got from smelling her, from having her in my bed. Her skin warmed me from head to toe and she sighed, snuggling against me in her sleep. I allowed myself one deep inhale into her neck, gathering the heady scent of skin and heat into my nose to save for later, then pressed a kiss into her tangled hair.
“Time to get up for a while, strawberry.”
“Feels like you’re already up.” Her sleepy voice sounded like it was smiling.
“We can take care of that once you’re feeling better. For now, let’s get you a shower and some food, yeah?”
She turned in my arms, rolling until our faces were inches apart and her chest pressed against mine. I tried not to think about that, or the way one of her legs slid in between mine, her knee coming up to nudge my balls.
A sly smile stole across her face. “Are you asking me on a date?”
I couldn’t help stealing a brief kiss, sleep-breath be damned. “That depends. Are you interested in going on a date with me?”
It seemed like a dumb question, given that we were half-naked and tucked in bed together, but the answer meant something to both of us, I thought. I didn’t date, and neither did Kennedy. We were both more comfortable with sex than relationships, so getting up, putting on clothes, and going out for tacos was a big deal.
At least, that’s the way I saw it.
The seriousness in her ever-changing eyes said she felt the same way, and long moments passed before she licked her lips and gave me an answer. My heart tried to beat while wrung into a knot the entire time.
“I’m not ready for this, Wright. I’m telling you because whatever this is—it’s going to end in a big, ugly, hot mess and we both know it. But yes. I’ll go on a date with you.”
I kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this either, but I want us to try.”
She wriggled loose, wincing a couple of times but looking more nimble than she had before she’d slept. “Can I borrow a towel and some flip-flops? And are there going to be dudes in the shower?”
“Nope. I’m the only one that lives down here, and it’s a single bathroom. You can even lock the door.” I struggled loose of the flimsy mattress and tangled blankets, handing over a towel, fresh shorts and a T-shirt, and flip-flops. “We can stop by the dorms before we get something to eat so you can get more of your clothes. My stuff doesn’t exactly fit you.”
“True. It smells good, though.”
Nothing could smell better than Kennedy, but I left the thought unvoiced. We’d shared enough for one day. No need to go all the way under at once.
I picked up my room while she showered, tossing dirty clothes in the hamper and cleaning out a drawer for Kennedy’s things, shifting books on my pretty big desk so there would be room for both of us to study.
She smelled clean when she returned, dropping the dirty clothes in the hamper and pulling her wet hair back into a single braid. If we stayed here another minute I would jump her like a fifteen-year-old boy who’d never been laid, so I grabbed my wallet and steered her out to my Jeep.
The trip inside the freshman dorm took less than ten minutes. Their room was empty and smelled more like artificial girl than Kennedy usually did. Blair wasn’t in, and Kennedy moved with the kind of urgency that suggested she’d rather not run into her roommate. I thought I saw a sheen in her eyes, but when she tossed the last pair of shoes in a big duffel bag and faced me, there was nothing but steely determination.
“Wait in the hall for a sec? I’m going to change clothes.”
I complied, and a few minutes later she emerged in a sundress and flip-flops, my oversized shorts and T-shirt nowhere to be seen. “You look pretty.”
“You’re such a good and proper date, Wright. Lots of practice?”
“Not really. The requisite high school dances and football games, group dates to the movies. I’ve never had a serious girlfriend.” I had no idea what possessed me to share so much. Maybe I was hoping she’d get a case of monkey-see, monkey-do.
“I’ve never been on a date, either.”
“Never?”
“Well, not a real one that didn’t include a formal function of some kind.”
We took the two flights of stairs down to the ground level, out the front door of the dorm, and climbed back into the SUV.
“Why not?” I wanted to keep this talking thing going, at least for now.
She shrugged. “I’ve been fucked up since I was old enough to date. Most guys with half a brain take what I give them and run the other direction.”
“Lucky for you, I’m only working with forty-eight percent of a brain right now.”
Kennedy snorted. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
The ride to my favorite Whitman gem, a hole-in-the-wall Italian place my first semester roommate had turned me onto, took less than five minutes. It was casual but the food was fantastic, and they didn’t card.
“Nice. I’ve never heard of this place.” Kennedy slid into the booth. The candlelight flickered on her skin and turned her clean, soft hair into a fiery halo around her head.
“It’s a well-kept secret.”
We perused the menu, and I caught myself before I ordered a bottle of wine. Being in college and drinking were such normal companions that this would take some getting used to, but I didn’t care much one way or another. I’d never been a big drinker in high school because of my fear of both landing my dad in hot water and not being sober enough to pick up Trent if he needed a ride.
“So, we know why I didn’t date in high school, but you’re nice, and rich and high-profile and handsome.” Her voice hitched over the last word, as though she didn’t want to admit it.
“It’s not like I sat home alone on the weekends. I hang out with girls, and we have fun sometimes, but I’ve never…I don’t know.
I guess I’m focused on things like my grades and a career, and it doesn’t make sense to lose direction unless the girl is worth it.”
“And you haven’t found anyone like that?”
“Not really.”
She studied me, her expression lost and maybe even scared. It killed me that I could do nothing to fix either of those things.
“But you’ve decided I’m worth it. I think you should lower the estimate of how much of your brain you’re using.”
“I didn’t decide anything, strawberry. We have something. It’s new to me, and all I know for sure is that when you wouldn’t talk to me, I didn’t like it.”
Kennedy visibly relaxed. I wondered if she thought I was about to do something dumb like tell her I loved her or something else crazy. I didn’t know her well enough to love her, but I did know her well enough to realize she wasn’t capable of any such thing.
“I didn’t like ignoring you, but I was trying to be nice. Because you’re nice.”
“I’m not so nice all the time, you know.”
“Oh, I suspect. I’m going to make you prove it later.” She waggled her eyebrows, giggling as the waiter set down our plates of food, then dug in. “I’m starving. This is delicious.”
We scarfed food in silence for a while, smiling at each other over strands of pasta and fighting over the last breadstick. A million questions swam in my mind—about her grandmother and life after the accident, what she remembered, what she saw when she looked into her future. Not to mention the reason behind her destructive behavior—that’s what we needed to root out. Did she feel guilty for living? Did she think she didn’t deserve it? Did she simply not want to be here without her family?
They were all fair thoughts. If I’d lost my parents and Trent, I doubted I’d be dealing any better than Kennedy, even six years later.
But I didn’t bring up any of those things. She asked me about my family and I told her about my parents, but avoided her vague inquiry about Trent. Her sharp gaze said she didn’t miss it, but maybe we were both playing nice tonight. It was our first date. Our first night together, I supposed, except it wasn’t.
The thing about sex was, once you had it with someone, thinking about other things or denying yourself another round, and then another, seemed wasteful. The longer the night wore on, the more I wanted to take her clothes off and toss her in bed—gently, of course. At least until she healed. The bright sheen in her eyes, the way her gaze kept falling to my mouth, made me think she might be on the same thought path.
I paid the check even though she tried to talk me into splitting. “Hey, if we get to the point where we agree we’re in an on-going relationship, we can take turns. I’m cool with that. But tonight, I’m trying to impress you. So back off.”
“Yes, sir.” She mock-saluted and let me help her up from the table.
“Here. Take these before we leave, so they’ll kick in.” I handed over half the recommended pain pill dosage. “It’s only half. You don’t need to be all doped up if you’re feeling better.”
“I suspect you have ulterior motives for not wanting me doped up.”
“I suspect you’re right.” I grabbed her wrist and pulled her to me, capturing her lips with the kind of fevered intensity that I wanted to take the rest of her.
The entire restaurant could see us standing there, and Miriam would rip me a new asshole if someone took a picture of my “friend” and I making out. I should have cared, but I couldn’t remember why. Kennedy’s arms went around my neck, pulling me closer, and I knew she didn’t, either. Our mouths parted, tongues slipping against each other’s too briefly, before we both pulled back.
“Let’s go back to your room,” she whispered.
“Fantastic idea.”
Chapter 16
I’d never driven back to the SEA house so intently. Endangering our lives, particularly while transporting a girl who had survived a horrific car accident, seemed counterproductive, but I did execute some moves that would have made James Bond’s grandmother proud, at least.
The fact that her hand had settled between my legs before we’d left the parking lot didn’t do a whole lot to help my concentration. There was no doubt that, at least in some things, Kennedy knew what she was doing and what she wanted. If only she’d apply so much laser focus to life outside the bedroom.
I shook off those thoughts. There would be time to worry about other things later, and she wasn’t the only one having trouble focusing on anything but sex at the moment.
The downstairs was dark and smelled the way it always did—a little musty and a lot like dirty laundry—but upstairs the sound of furniture scraping the floor assaulted my ears. The pledges must be setting up for after-bars.
Kennedy didn’t ask about the noise. I led her by the hand into my room and locked the door behind us. For a moment, I memorized the way she looked in that short, thin dress—all of her curves on display, her legs long and creamy, her air-dried waves tumbling over her almost bare shoulders as she tugged loose her braid. Then I stepped forward and tangled a hand in her hair, dragging her mouth to mine and tasting her.
It was strawberries again, mingled with garlic sauce and lust. Her lips parted and her tongue went for mine, stoking the need in my blood to an unbearable degree. At the last moment, I recovered enough of my senses to remember she’d taken a beating a few days ago and was still healing, and instead of crushing her against me the way I wanted to, I buried my face in her cleavage.
The way her skin smelled was my favorite thing about her, and from there my fingers could grasp the hem of her dress. I pulled it over her head, breathing hard as our lips found each other’s again and her fingers slid up my T-shirt, nails dragging across my chest and abs, driving me mad.
I throbbed against my shorts, pressing against her belly. It wrenched a little groan from Kennedy and she dropped to her knees, unbuttoning my shorts and leaving them around my ankles. She went after my underwear next, first tonguing me through the material, then pulling me free and lavishing the kind of attention between my legs that I wouldn’t be able to stand for long.
My hand grabbed a fistful of hair at the crown of her head—not pulling or demanding, simply holding on for dear life. Her lips wrapped around me and she sucked hard, making my stomach clench and blanking every thought from my head. Desire made my legs shake, and when she started using her hand too, I had to stop her after a minute or fall down. I brushed my palms along her jaw and pulled her up, getting more aroused by the taste of salty skin on her lips, and walked her backward to the bed.
We stopped, the backs of her knees hitting my mattress, her hand still stroking me while I tried to maintain some kind of control. It helped to pay attention to her instead, and my fingers made quick work of her bra. Her beautiful tits tumbled free and I stared for a minute, trying to memorize how they reacted to my heavy gaze.
I reached out, touching them gently at first, weighing them as she pushed into my palms. The impatient whimpers spurred me onward, my fingers teasing her nipples before I pushed her back onto the mattress and let my lips and tongue take over, until we were both panting with need. I swung her legs around and knelt between them.
“I need you, Wright.”
The breathiness of her voice almost sent me right over the edge, but this time she wasn’t begging me to hurt her, and I was determined to show her that sex could make her feel good, too. Despite the growing ache in my balls, I went for her lacy underwear instead of a condom, sliding them over her thighs and kissing every inch they passed.
I reveled in the way her legs trembled, the way her hands reached down, searching for my hair then fisting as I settled my face between her thighs. It took some testing, some experimental tongue exploration, before her moans and squirming said I’d hit the jackpot, but I would have stayed as long as she needed. She was hot around me and tasted like desire, like a woman I wanted to know inside and out, one I wanted to make love to and have sex with and fuck like a crazy person on alternating da
ys of the week.
As it was, I had no intention of stopping until she came and when she did, gasping with her knees clamped around my ears, wetness spilling over my tongue, nothing had ever turned me on more. I had a condom out of the drawer beside the bed and in place before the mist cleared from her eyes.
“Kiss me. I want to taste you,” she demanded, pulling my face to hers.
I complied, totally lost to the moment, and plunged my tongue into her mouth and the rest of me all the way inside her. She cried out and I paused, concerned that we’d gotten carried away, but when I looked down, she gave me a tiny smile.
It did little to reassure me, since her eyes shone with tears, so I paused. “Strawberry, tell me you’re okay. We can stop.”
“God, no, you idiot.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
Her breath caught and she looked away, chest heaving.
“Look at me,” I demanded.
“You’re not hurting me, Toby. It feels good. Like so damn good I can’t handle it.” I started to pull out but she grabbed my ass, nestling my hips back against hers. “No. Can’t handle it in a good way. Like I want to split apart a little, but if you stopped right now it would be worse.”
“I pretty much feel the same way, if that makes you feel better.”
She tipped her hips up in response, ripping a growl from my throat as I slid deeper. We moved together until sweat built up between our skin, thrusting in one smooth motion, using each other’s body for leverage and friction, and when I sensed the edge of my control inching closer, I slipped a hand between our bodies.
Kennedy’s thin legs wrapped around my back, lifting her ass off the bed as I pushed us both over the edge of the cliff. The room went dark around the edges and nothing but crashing, pulling, tearing pleasure made any kind of sense for the next several minutes.