by Dakota Gray
“Your place,” she mumbles at me.
I tilt my head, sure I've heard her wrong. “Come again?”
“Your. Place. Stop asking me.”
I step forward and loom over her for a second. I'm hoping my stare wakes her up. “I know what you may think of me but I'm not into fucking unconscious women. If you're going to my place you're sleeping.”
She answers my mini-tirade with a soft snore.
“Fuck.”
CHAPTER FOUR
I’m left with two fewer options to get her home or somewhere safe. I can dig into her purse, find her ID for an address but that’s in the hopes the address is current. Being anal retentive about work doesn’t mean someone is as attentive in their real life.
I can hunt down Gwen to give me Kennedy's home information, but then Gwen will know I took home a drunk Kennedy. Yeah, I'm pissed at my paralegal, but that doesn't mean Gwen won't ask me a million nosy-ass questions. And I'm not mad enough to request a different paralegal. Still, that leaves Kennedy alone and asleep when she's had too much to drink.
That leaves taking her to my place, where Kennedy says she wants to go. This is not what I want though. This is good guy. Like...I’ll take care of you when you’re sick good guy.
This good guy shit is for the birds.
I roll my shoulders. As long as she's unconscious and drunk, this is the role I'm playing with her. With a sigh, I make sure nothing of Kennedy will get caught when I close the door. She settles in deeper into the seat.
I head home. She doesn't stir when I carry her from my car to my bedroom. I shower, do some work, and eat a cold burger and fries. I kill time in case she wakes up and is ready to go home.
When I exhaust all delaying tactics to head to bed for the night, I stand at the foot of my mattress and frown at her. I don't know why she called me. I'm not that good at pretending to be a good guy. I'm not nice or kind. Or safe.
And really I can't take her drunken decision to be here as a signal no matter how much I want to unleash every pent up urge I've swallowed down. I want her, but not when she's vulnerable. If we're going to be bed partners, for real this time, I'm not holding a thing back. I’m not walking away until we are well and truly done with each other.
It’s late. I’m tired. I’m not going to get any questions answered tonight. I'll be damned, though, to sleep on my couch. No one is that nice who isn't a masher of some kind.
I round the bed and my gaze never leaves her. She's cuddled under the gray comforter and has stolen at least half of my pillows. Her hair is spread across the black sheets—a stark contrast.
The food, water, and even the towels remain neatly piled on the nightstand. As they say, I should either shit or get off the pot.
I climb onto my bed. She doesn't stir. I'm not stupid enough to get under the comforter. I'll pull her into me and bury my face in her hair. I'll take in the scent of lavender and cinnamon. That's not good for anybody. Not tonight, when I have to show a modicum of restraint.
“Would you stop moving,” she grouches without opening her eyes.
I rest my arm behind my head. “There's food and water on the nightstand.”
Kennedy cracks open eye. “Shhh.”
She presses a finger to my mouth. I nip at it. She moans in return and rolls over onto her side. Her face in profile reveal soft pouty lips, a serene expression, and long lashes. Her eyes remain closed as I try to stare her awake.
“At least drink a bottle of water and take the pills.”
She sighs and rolls to face me. Her gaze is clearer than when she asked me to bring her to my house. “Will you stop bitching if I do?”
Yeah. She's still drunk enough I would question her ability to consent.
Fuck. Fuck.
She’s going to be in my bed all night.
Fuck.
“Can't make promises.”
Her breathing speeds up. “You're looking like you want to devour me.”
I'm trying to think of everything but that. “Drink the water and take the pills.”
She sits up, kicks back the covers then downs the water. My heart lifts when she slips out of the bed. This is cautious hope because I shouldn't trust it. Hope knocks me on my ass if I let it. I fold both of my hands behind my head and watch her. She heads for the bathroom door.
The sink faucet switches on, then shuts off a few minutes later. The door opens, and there she is with the bathroom light spilling behind her. She's washed her face and finger-combed her hair. The dress is gone. Her hips are thicker since the last time she stood in front of me like this. Her breasts are fuller. Her mouth is something worth dying for. My cock perks up, ready to bust through my sweats like the Kool-Aid man.
Kennedy invited herself over to my place to kill me with lust.
Her walk is slow and sensual. She should only ever wear a bra and thong. Ever. I prop one leg up to conceal just how much I like her half-naked. She climbs under the covers again without speaking. My body tenses and hardens. I can't help but hate her. The emotion isn't logical. I get to hate her as she's breathing and in my bed. I can hate her so hard while my body pulses from how much I want her.
“Are you going to eat?” I ask instead of tugging her into me.
She pulls the covers up to her breasts and props herself up on her elbow. “Why are you so tense?”
That's honestly her question? “I have a half-naked woman in my bed, and she's toying with me. May be why. I don't know. Could also be a full moon and I'm about to turn into a wolf.”
Her smile is quick and unfettered. “Am I Little Red Riding Hood?”
“No. She gets eaten. You're going to drink water and sober the fuck up.”
“What does it matter if I'm in my bra and panties? I thought one time was enough for you.”
Funny that's the part she wants to bring up. Funny at how wrong she remembers it. Kennedy waits another moment for me to reply then sits up and reaches over to the nightstand. I get a flash of her ass cheek. All she needs to do is move another inch or two and I could see the crotch of her panties. My stomach climbs up my throat. She straightens with the bag of food and a towel.
I narrow my eyes because Kennedy isn’t stupid. She has to know she’s driving me fucking insane. Slowly.
Kennedy just lays out the towel before ripping the bag up the middle. A few stray fries land on my down comforter.
Anyone else who even thought about eating in my bed would get shown the door. Kennedy? I'm mildly annoyed. I have a mental ledger of every line I've let her cross. At some point I'll collect on the invisible debt, but I want to see how far she can push me before I break.
“You're going to murder me for that, aren't you?” she asks.
“Thinking about it.”
She eats the wayward fries. Mini grease spots are left behind. I'm not sure my cleaners will be able to get them out. They aren't scheduled for a pickup for a few days. I might always have a reminder that she was in my bed. I don't know how I feel about that.
“I promise not to use ketchup,” she says around a mouthful of fries.
I focus on her eating instead of her cleavage. “That would just blend into the blood stains after I throttle you until you get a nose bleed.”
She moves on to the burger. The messy burger. Mayo and mustard drop onto the towel. She moans after the second bite. “This is so good.”
I shift again. I took her to my favorite place. She's unaware. I'm pleased by her approval. Her next bite is bigger and her moan is longer. She makes it worse by licking a drop of mayo and mustard from her thumb. I watch her eat like her life depends on it, in technicolor and surround sound. She's not trying to be sexy, but it's the most sensual thing I've ever seen. She's comfortable in her own skin—and with me—as she demolishes the food.
Soon no amount of shifting will hide my erection. I glare at her. “Did you let Colin kiss you?”
One corner of her mouth lifts. The simple facial tick looks like triumph. “Because you want to kiss me and don't
want sloppy seconds?”
She could never be that. “I'm trying to figure out how obsessed he's going to be with you now.”
“See. Growly.” She wraps up the leftover fries and burger in the bag. “How does it feel to live in constant denial?”
“I don't.”
She slides under the cover. “So you don't want me at all? I can get naked and you won't even look at me?”
I would prop toothpicks in my eyelids to make sure I wouldn't miss a thing. “Why would you want to get naked?”
“To prove you wrong.”
I laugh. Our relationship is fucked up. There's no doubt of that. “You've created this fabrication of how I feel on misplaced assumptions.”
She pulls down the comforter. Her hair is fanned across the pillow. “I have not. So, Duke, I think we should test how much you don't want me.”
Since I never said that, I don't know why she's pushing this. “I'm not playing this game with you.”
“Then which one are we playing?” She draws a circle around her belly button. Her torso is soft, not taut, and I want my tongue to follow the invisible trail she's making with her fingertip.
“You tell me. Know I will win.”
She narrows her gaze. “I'm still trying to figure out if you're like hard candy. You know, tough outside but a gooey center.”
“You've already had me in your mouth. You should know the answer.”
“Is that what it takes to get inside you? I have to fuck you?”
“You want to know what's inside me? I'm a dark and cold place. I've never lied about that. You don't believe it though.”
She glances down at her hand. “You're hopeless,” she murmurs.
“What is hope, Kennedy? You keep forgetting.”
She draws a slow circle down to the edge of her panties. Air seizes in my lungs. “Hope doesn't make you anything but human.”
Her finger goes up then back down. Lower. She's tracing small loops across her mound.
“Moot point,” I bite out and watch as she dips her fingers into her panties.
“Duke,” she whispers. “If you didn't want me, why did you bring me home and put me in your bed? There were a million other things you could have done, no matter what I asked you to do.”
She lays her hand flat against her mound. I guess I'm supposed to answer to get my reward. She's good at the game she's playing. I want to join in and win, but I can’t. Not when there’s even a hint of her regretting fucking me in the morning.
I roll onto my side and put my mouth to her ear. “Tell me, Kennedy, why did you tell me to bring you home?”
Her gasp is so low I almost miss it. “I wanted to see if you would.”
I dig my fingernails into my palm to focus on the pain, to hold my control. “Next question.”
“Shoot.”
“When did I say I didn't want you?”
“Actions speak louder than words.”
Had she been paying attention she'd have had that answer a long ass time ago. I suck the tip of her earlobe. She arches her neck as I pull away. I smile. “Do they, now?”
“Yes.”
“How many people do you have on staff? And yet you volunteered to be my court runner. Why?”
She bends her knee and slips her hand down. “I'm the only one who can handle you.” She moans and looks down. “Don't you want to do this for me?”
I trace the shell of her ear with my tongue. The illicit action coaxes another moan from her. “You're doing just fine, from what I can see.” I'm not going to touch her more than I need to, not while she's inebriated.
She pulls her hand away with a sigh. “You are the most frustrating man I have ever met.”
“I am? I would say I’m docile and agreeable.”
“You mispronounced ‘stubborn delusional ass.’”
I chuckle. “Maybe.”
She turns her head to meet my eyes. “You have to know what I want from you. Tonight.”
I want to know why now? What changed? What made her think she was ready to climb me again? “I’m not fucking you tonight.”
I say that, but I take control of her wrist and put two of her fingers in my mouth. She melts into the mattress, though she tries to keep her face devoid of any emotion. Her eyes though are dark chocolate now. Lust shines back at me.
She's sweet and musky on my tongue. I remember this. I remember why I haven't been able to shake her. I wrap my tongue around her index finger and suck the digit clean. That's all I can have of her tonight. I take it and take her in.
A moment later I can say, “Good night, Kennedy.”
She flushes. “That's all you want to do?”
“Nope, but that’s all I am going to.”
She snaps, “Why?”
“Why do you suddenly want to fuck me again?”
She glares at me and my heart refuses to slow. “I was jealous.”
I use my index finger to turn her face toward mine. I search for the lie in her confession. It’s not the whole truth. She’s sported green eyes before. I’ve had my moments where I did growl any time she mentioned a date or boyfriend in passing.
This is us.
Not a damn thing has changed. I wish she’d tell me so I wouldn’t have to ask.
She inhales and exhales. “I’m in your bed. You’ve wanted me here even when you told yourself you didn’t.”
“You’re too drunk to climb me.”
Maybe she sees the truth of that in my face because she jerks her chin from my grasp and rolls over to her side. I clench my fist to keep from dragging her back to me. I can’t touch her. I want the kind of sex that will leave us dehydrated for a week, and she can’t have that tonight.
Yet, drunk or not, she's set the game in motion. I'm going to go about my way of winning it.
I lay back and pull my pillow from behind my head and cover my face with it. Only a small part of me wishes I suffocate to death.
I didn't say the game would be fun for either of us. She's going to hate me before all is said and done. Until then, I force myself to sleep. It's the only way I can fucking hold onto my control long enough to win.
CHAPTER FIVE
My dick sends up an alarm that I should be awake. I crack my eyes open, but I already know shit has gone sideways while I slept. I'm up against something warm and soft. I sigh and take stock.
During the night I've wrapped my arm around Kennedy. It's tingling from the dead weight of her but that hasn't stopped my hand from cupping one breast. One of her legs is trapped between mine. And, yeah, my dick is pressed against her ass.
In my sleep I've turned into a lion, and she's the wild gazelle who tried to escape. Even if she sobered up in the wee morning hours how could she leave? I could untangle us, but it's early. The sun is peaking through my dark curtains, and that means I'm not late for work yet.
From the way she's breathing—light and unsteady—I know she's awake.
“About one in the morning you did this.”
“Do you need to pee?” I ask but don't move my hand.
Her tit feels softer than it looks. Now that I'm here, I might as well stay, right?
“I did around three.”
Huh. I've nuzzled up to her twice. She's not complaining now and this is what she wants from me. I don't know why. Other people would ask, but I've learned the hard way to not ask questions I don't want the answer to.
Is that fair to her? No. Do I care? No. The game has begun. She should have made her escape. I gave her three fucking years to make up her mind. I've been more than fair. Now it's just going to be the hard way.
“Are you sober?” I ask.
“Painfully so.”
“And you're still in my bed.”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to be?”
“Yes.”
She gasps when I slip my fingers into her underwear. I press my lips to her earlobe. “Want me to stop?”
“No,” she says but squeezes her thighs. “Don't touch me if you're
just going to tease me.”
“Tease you?” I trail my middle finger over her slit. Her wet warmth welcomes me. “Were you wet for me all night?”
She doesn't reply. I test the truth with the tip of my finger. I take her arousal and swipe it around her clit. “I'm not going to tease you. I'm going to sate this current thirst of yours.”
We'll go from there because sliding my dick deep into her is another story. I did that much too fast the first time.
“Put your leg on mine.”
She props her foot on my thigh and I start the caress at her ankle. I touch every sinew of muscle in her calves. It's from walking and climbing steps, day after day. It's what makes her Kennedy. I revel in the way her skin, any scars and inner thigh are so soft, interesting. Her body is a feast. My fingers, my eyes have been starved.
“Is that all you wanted to do?” says the real fucking tease out of the two of us. “Tickle my knee?”
I shove my hand into her panties and slide my palm over her clit. “What did you say?”
“Ticklin—”
I give her a nice tap as a warning. She turns her head and locks her stare onto mine. She opens her mouth, and I spank her twice.
“Your mouth gets you into trouble, Kennedy.”
“You like my mouth.” Her voice is like whiskey—dark, biting, and then smooth.
Can't call her a liar. I switch to long caresses over her clit and watch her try to keep her emotions from leaking out. She breaks eventually, moaning, squirming.
I want to say this is where the levee breaks for me. I flip her onto her stomach and we fuck ourselves blind, but I can't go there. Not yet. Not with her.
So I sink my teeth into her neck as she moans for me. This close to her, the sound rattles my brain, my insides. She's slippery beneath my finger and that...I have to press my dick into her ass and grind to get some kind of relief. My gray sweats are not enough of a barrier to keep me from coming at some point.