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Buy Me, Love (The One and Only Book 1)

Page 3

by Lauren Milson


  “Peace and quiet. Privacy. And just…nothing fancy.” She sighs, stretching her arms in front of her and putting a hand behind her neck as she rolls her shoulders. She has a spa morning scheduled for tomorrow, just like she does every Saturday morning. “I just want to go somewhere no one knows who I am.”

  The irony isn’t lost on me, and a pang of guilt hits my chest. I have to tell her who I really am, but hell, I don’t want to scare her. She stretches her legs out in front of her, and I chance a look. Her long, shapely legs taper down to these high heels that make the arch of her foot look like the solution to a mathematical equation. And the curve of her round, plump ass is pressing against the inside of my suit jacket.

  Kit Kensington up close is a different world from a photo or from far away. I’ve only had a taste of the sweet, feminine scent, the sugary, frothy bubbles that surround her. And now?

  “Nothing fancy?’” I reply. “I think the word you’re searching for right now is motel, not hotel.”

  She throws a light glance over at me and gives me a little smile and a nod.

  I lift my gaze to the sky through the windshield of my car. Kit Kensington is sitting next to me. I’ve broken every professional promise I’ve made to myself. Never make yourself seen. Never get in the way of what your subject is doing unless it’s to intervene in something dangerous - watch from afar, and never get attached.

  Lord help me.

  5

  Kit

  I’m giddy by the time we arrive. Max hits the button to turn off the radio and smiles over at me.

  “You’re a better singer than I thought you’d be,” he says to me. “You have some mean chops on those vocal intros. Queen, Bon Jovi,” he ticks off a few of the sing-alongs we shared on the ride here. Well, I sang along. He didn’t do much singing.

  “Thank you very much,” I say, swatting my hand over at him. My fingers catch his chest, and I know there’s smooth, perfect muscle hiding behind that crisp, sexy white shirt. I wonder if he has tattoos in places other than his forearms, not that I’d be complaining if he didn’t. Those arm tattoos are enough to get me going all on their own.

  He glances down at me. His smile makes me lose myself a little every time I see it. We’re now two hours outside the city, it’s after dinner time, and I’m starving. But the thing I want most is this feeling. Being in his car with him, being in his space. It’s like our own little world, everything outside it has just been rushing by in a blur and it’s like we’re the only two people that matter.

  This is already a hell of a first date. There’s an energy between us, a spark that makes me feel like I’ve known him for more than just a few hours. What is it about this man that makes me feel so safe, so protected, but so wild and free at the same time? Maybe that little game of cops and robbers where I tried to steal his car kick-started my heart into seeing him as something more than just some hot dude my dad knows. Having that kind of drama early in a relationship, my best friend Madelyn says, can cement feelings that typically take longer to develop.

  Still, it doesn’t feel like that was what did it. I think this feeling started before - when our eyes met, when all of the air was sucked out of my lungs and his eyes would not snap away from mine as he strode toward me.

  Max opens his door and the soft dinging of his car brings me a sense of nostalgia I haven’t felt in a long time. The gruffness of his voice feels like safety incarnate. The etchings on his arms look like protection squared. As he gets out of the car, I look through the windshield to take in the sight of the motel. The doors to the individual rooms are outside, two stories facing a parking lot lit up by the pale blue moonlight and the neon sign that says, well, “MOTEL.”

  I get out of the car not knowing what’s moving faster, my feet or my heart.

  “This place certainly fits the bill!” I bubble, slamming the car door behind me. Max comes around and we stand there together, looking up at the old sign buzzing in the office window.

  Now this is what I’m talking about.

  I smile up at Max and grab his hand, dragging him along with me in my high heels and little red bandage dress through the front door to the office of the hotel. Motel, I mean.

  There’s no lobby. This place is an entire world away from the place my dad owns. In place of the lobby there’s just an office instead. The old man sitting at the counter with his feet up, eating a sandwich and watching the small, old TV mounted on the ceiling, wipes mustard from his lip and takes his feet down when we come inside and the little bell over the door chimes.

  “Hello, sir,” I say to the man, slipping my elbows onto the counter. It occurs to me that I’ve never checked into a hotel before, and it makes me stifle a laugh at the irony. “Do you have a room available?”

  “Yes, m’am,” the man at the desk says brightly. He turns to his ancient computer and gives me and Max the side-eye, raised eyebrow and all. “One bed or two?”

  Max and I blurt out different things at the same time.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I say, and “two,” he says. I look up at him and feel my cheeks blushing.

  “We aren’t going to be staying here that long,” I say before realizing that this isn’t a clarification; it’s a complication. I’m making it sound like we’re just checking in for a sex romp or something. I feel my cheeks get even redder as they tingle with excitement. “I mean, we aren’t going to be doing any sleeping.”

  Next to me, Maxwell bites back a laugh and shakes his head.

  “Two beds,” he chimes in, “just in case. We’re here on our way to someplace else. We just needed to take a break from driving and thought this place looked good. If we end up sleeping, we end up sleeping.”

  “Oh, where are you folks heading?” the man asks, squinting at his computer, then giving us an expectant glare.

  “We’re…” I look up at Max for help.

  “Going to the Grand Canyon,” Max says, “we…just drove down from Montreal.”

  “Right,” I say, pointing to him as though I’m catching the end of his tale and taking up the thread, “I’ve never seen the Grand Canyon, and I’ve always wanted to, so that’s where he’s taking me.”

  I bump my hip against his and he smiles down at me again. He’s so big and solid that all of my weight went into that little hip-bump but I can see that it didn’t even register as a blip on his radar. My heart feels like a balloon floating up into the bright blue sky and I’m waiting for it to either pop or float so high that it becomes invisible.

  “This is actually our first date,” Max says, taking the two keycards the very nice and very confused man slides to him.

  “Alright then. Have a nice stay,” he says. I think he’s about to ask if I’m being held against my will. I admit I’m acting a little bit kooky.

  “Do you guys have room service?” Max asks, slipping one card between my fingers. I feel my tummy roll deeply when our fingers connect.

  “No kitchen on premises,” the man replies, pointing out the glass door behind us, “sorry about that. But there is a diner down the road that delivers.” He slides a three-fold paper menu across the desk to Max, who nods with a thank-you before we head outside again.

  “I love it here.” I turn in a small circle, taking in the cool night, the bright stars, the off-ramp motel. It feels like controlled chaos. It feels like we’re flirting with danger, getting right up to the edge of it, dipping our toes in before backing off. A little danger never hurt anyone, did it?

  “It’s nice,” Max says next to me. There’s a pause and he looks down into my eyes. I feel my features soften as my heart skips. Just as fast, though, the moment has passed and he’s waving for me to follow him.

  “Okay, you don’t have to lie,” I remark as the two of us make our way up the brick and metal staircase to the second floor. “This sort of looks like something from a horror movie. An old one. A slasher.” I claw through the air at him, but with my pink nail polish, I probably don’t look all that threatening.

 
“And if your father knew I was bringing you here, he’d probably fucking kill me,” Max rasps into my ear, wrapping his arm around my shoulders when we get to the top of the stairs. There’s something in the tone of his voice that’s making heat swirl, curl, ravel, tangle through me. I lick my lips and let out a deep breath as the two of us make our way to our room and get inside.

  Alone. In a hotel room. With Maxwell. My heart kicks and produces a dust-storm, but it feels like a glitter bomb instead of dirt. There are two beds just like we’d asked for, and when my shoes are off I tip-toe over to the one farthest from the door and pull the bedspread back.

  “Picnic time, right?” I say, drawing my feet up under me and putting my hands on my knees. Max’s silhouette stays near the door and I bring my top lip between my teeth, tickling my lip with the tip of my tongue. Max slowly closes the door behind him and walks over to me, each step deliberate, measured, slow and sexy. He comes to a stop in the darkness in front of me where I’m kneeling.

  This all seemed like a great idea, but now the danger doesn’t just feel like a shallow pool I’m dipping a toe into. It feels like a vast ocean and I could get sucked under the surface if I don’t keep kicking.

  “Let me go get some dinner for us,” Max says.

  “The guy at the desk said the diner would deliver,” I offer tentatively.

  “I think I need some air,” he replies. I expect him to turn around and leave again, but instead he reaches down with both hands and tucks my hair behind my ears. Electricity shoots through me and I sit up on my knees, my fingers trembling, and reach out to grab his tie. I grab his tie, and I give it the gentlest tug. A small moan slips from my wet, parted lips, and when he doesn’t break under my tug, I slide my fingers down the silky length and feel my panties pool as I let the end drop against his chest.

  “Don’t be long,” I whisper.

  I watch him leave, my heart divided between excitement and longing. Longing, the kind that you don’t know whether to embrace or push away because there’s too much at stake. And as soon as he’s out the door, I throw myself back onto the bed and hike my dress up, wiggling my hips to get it up faster. I can’t take this. I’ll do anything to make this ache go away. I exhale sharply as I slide my hand down my belly, finding a soaking wet mess when I get my fingers between my legs.

  “Oh god,” I moan, arching my back and circling tightly. Inside me the pressure winds up and winds up and the release hits me quick, seizing me and wracking though me, a bright kaleidoscope of black churning behind my tightly-sealed eyes. Panting and out of breath like I just ran a marathon, I lick my lips and come back around. The first one hit me hard and fast, but I still need more. I feel greedy, but I just can’t help it. With my other hand I reach down into my panties and split my lips apart to expose my button.

  I flip over onto my belly and bite down on a pillow, my release being pulled from the back of my throat as I come again. What. The. Hell. I close my eyes and feel myself slide desperately into sleep, but reluctantly drag myself back to reality when I realize that I absolutely cannot fall asleep like this.

  Then I get up, make my way to the bathroom with jelly for bones, and turn on the hot water for a shower.

  I’m still not satisfied. And I know only one thing will do it.

  It’s already a Valentine’s Day full of firsts…

  I hope Maxwell will give me one more.

  6

  Maxwell

  Kit Kensington pulled on my tie. She pulled on my motherfucking t.i.e.

  She tried to get me to lean down to kiss her.

  She looks sweet and innocent, and all signs until today pointed to what seemed like that very obvious fact. Tutoring, donating her time and energy at the animal shelter.

  But shit, Kit Kensington is a wild one. I knew there was something about her. Getting some old man she doesn’t know to bring her to some off-ramp motel in the middle of who-the-fuck-knows-where. Please. Where she has “tutor jocks” on her schedule, is she getting passed around like a joint at a party?

  Goddamnit. The idea of it makes me fucking sick. I plow a hand through my hair as I take the steps two-by-two and cross the street to a small shopping plaza tucked between a gas station and a library, surrounded by trees on all sides. It’s nice to get out of the city for once, but I don’t have that sweet feeling of peace settling into my chest. No fucking way.

  I pull open the door to the diner and make my way over to the counter, grabbing two cellophane-wrapped black and white cookies and a menu. I already know what she likes.

  “Hi. Two veggie burgers, one with sweet potato fries, one with waffle fries, a small greek salad. Thank you. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.” The woman behind the counter takes the order and the menu back from me without missing a beat and I tear out of the place, heading next door from the little shopping strip to the open-late big box store.

  I find the section I’m looking for and pounce on a pair of pajamas with hearts and bears on them. Anything to get her out of that little red dress and the hell away from me. This woman is a ticking sex bomb waiting to go off and she could destroy me if I’m not careful.

  I grab a teddy bear holding a big red heart, pay for my purchases, and head back over to the diner to pick up dinner. I slap a bill on the counter and grab the take-out bag, not bothering to wait for my change. When I get back to the motel, I sprint up the stairs and slide my card into the door faster than I can say pickles and coleslaw.

  When I get inside, I drop the bags on the small table by the door. There’s steam coming from the bathroom, and the sweet scent of water and soap fills the air. The bed she was kneeling on before is now strewn with blankets and sheets. Looks like someone’s spent an entire night sleeping there.

  I walk over and grab a pillow, bringing it to my nose. The fresh scent of her perfume clings to it, and I rub myself through my pants. There’s mascara residue on the pillow, and when I pull it away from my face and look down at the bed again, I see that there’s what looks like a little damp spot.

  Fuck. I sit down on the edge of the bed, my dick harder than a diamond, and put the pillow onto my lap. I let a groan escape my chest and float to the ceiling as I tip my head back, eyes screwing closed, hips grinding against the pillow. I move it in my lap, shifting my hips up and down, my other hand palming the sheet. My fingers curl up into a fist, the damp fabric of the sheet gathering. I’m about to come in my pants when I hear the shower turn off.

  Shit. I put the pillow close to where I found it as I can manage and hop onto the bed next to the one Kit defiled. Putting two hands behind my head and hooking one foot over the other, I assume a casual pose.

  The bathroom door opens and Kit appears in the doorway, hair wrapped in a towel and another one tucked in on itself above her breasts.

  “Oh,” she says, stepping backwards into the bathroom, “I didn’t know you were back. Sorry about that.”

  “No problem,” I say, going over to the bags I’d procured in my travels. “I have something for you.”

  I tear the pajama set from its package and hand it over to her through the slit between the bathroom door and the wall.

  “Valentine’s Day lingerie!” she beams up at me, “honey, thank you so much! I’ve always wanted a boyfriend who knows what I like without me having to tell him.”

  She has no fucking idea. But for now, I bide my time. I go back to the bed and grab the remote to look for a movie for us to watch together.

  Dinner and a movie. The perfect first date.

  7

  Kit

  I dry off and pull the pajamas on, stopping when I’m done to look in the mirror.

  My hair is wet, I’m wearing these very sweet and cute PJs, I have no makeup on…and I’ve never felt sexier than I do right now. I tuck my hair behind my ears the way Max did. I can still feel his fingers there, his touch. I can still feel his fingers on my waist from when he slid me into the seat next to his.

  I can still feel the growl that broke inside his chest an
d the heat from his eyes when I tugged on his skinny black tie. I can still feel the glowing warmth making its way through my body like the inside of a lava lamp. It sends a zip of electricity up my spine.

  There’s something happening inside me. Warmth…companionship? What is this? It’s all-enveloping, all-consuming, and a little bit scary. It’s a shock to the system. It’s warmth on a cold day and it’s a cool shower in the middle of August. It’s a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at the beach and there’s sand between your toes and maybe a little in the sandwich too, but you don’t care because you’ve got a good book to keep you company.

  Taking a calming breath, I open the bathroom door and return to Max. He has everything set up for us: burgers and fries in their foil containers, set up on a towel on each of the beds. There’s also a teddy bear propped up on the pillows on my bed and a pair of slippers on the floor.

  Something tugs at my heart and I feel my lips pout out.

  “So sweet,” I say, taking a seat across from him.

  “We can eat while we watch the movie, if you’d like,” he says. He sits on the bed next to mine, sliding over so he’s in the center with his back agains the headboard. He grabs the remote and takes a fry, and I can’t help but watch him.

  Biting my lower lip, I slip onto my bed. It would be nice if we were in the same bed together - right? Right. Would be nice.

  The silence in the air between us is so thick you couldn’t get a truck through it. It’s like there’s a big brick wall between us, and I can only see a little bit of him through a tiny crack in it.

  “What kind of movies do you like?” he asks me.

  “Horror,” I reply with a big smile. “It’s a tradition I have. Every Valentine’s Day, I curl up with my old VCR and tapes of all the horror movies I bought on clearance from the video store when they were going out of business.”

 

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