STONE (Daring the Kane Brothers)

by Kelly Gendron

  “I don’t know.” He grimaces.

  “It was a messed-up situation. He’s okay, you’re okay, and that’s all that matters. Yeah?”

  His shoulders drop. “Yeah.” He nods. “But you’ll let me know if he says anything to you?”

  “Sure.” I smile, feeling bad for the kid. I like Getty. He’s got a sweetness about him, and I believe he hadn’t meant for Stone to get involved. Still, it happened, and if there’s anything I know, there’s no turning back the clocks. If there were, I’d have my little sister back. At least, now I understand why Stone proclaimed his slipup wasn’t intentional.

  “Thanks,” Getty says with a small smile as a flood of customers charge us. “The show must’ve ended.” His smile widens. “Are you ready?”

  “Bring it on.” Winking at him, I roll up my sleeves, prepared to do some selling.

  An hour later, the last fan buys the last T-shirt, and we pack up the merchandise table.

  “Hey.” Trigger walks over, bidding me a hello with a nod before he looks back at Getty. “Almost done?”

  “Yeah.” Getty breaks the folding table down. “What’s up?” The question obviously easily interrupted by the look on his older brother’s face.

  “Next week’s gig just got cancelled,” Trigger says.

  “No shit!” Getty’s eyebrows cave.

  Standing side by side, I see the resemblance.

  “Thought we’d head back home. Mom’s got her knee surgery Tuesday, so we could hang with her for the rest of the week. Whatcha think?”

  “Yeah, she’d like that,” Getty agrees with a dip of his head.

  “Okay.” Trigger nods. “Derrick took off. He’s heading to Florida to see his sister before the tour. We’ll stop by the house and get our shit.” Trigger’s eyes sway my way, and it finally clicks.

  If he and Getty are heading home, and Derrick is already gone, then where does that leave me? Alone with… speak of the sexy devil dressed all in black.

  Hair damp at the tips, no doubt from playing his ass off tonight, Stone walks up. He looks at me and Getty, shoving his hands into his back pockets. “How’d we do?”

  “We had a good night.” Getty hands the metal box to Stone. “I didn’t count it yet.”

  “No problem.” Stone takes it. “I’ll do it tonight and deposit it Monday.”

  “Getty and I are heading home,” Trigger says. “Mom’s got her surgery—”

  “Shit, that’s right,” Stone says, tapping the metal box against his hand. “Her knee, right?”

  “Yeah.” Trigger grabs the folding table. “So you’ll take care of the place, close up and stuff, when you head out?”

  “Sure.” Stone’s eyes slither over to me.

  I chew my bottom lip, wondering if he can hear the questions running through my head? Like are we leaving? If so, when? Tonight? Tomorrow? If not tonight, how am I supposed to trust myself to be alone with him in that big house?

  The first part of the week was doable. I didn’t have to save him from a fangirl with a kiss. Damn, that kiss! It opened a perilous door for us.

  And his mouth, it’s such a threat to my body. Heck, it made me flee the bedroom the other night because the thought of sleeping a few feet away from him without touching his body would’ve kept me up all night. Which it had, especially when he tossed me over his shoulder and carried me up the stairs. Shit, when he dropped me on the bed, I wanted to reach up and grab him, pull him onto the bed with me, and screw him senseless. But senseless was exactly what I was that night. Have sex with Stone, Crash’s brother, the addict…

  Oh, and then there’s that, the addict shit!

  The self-sacrificing addict who was forced to do drugs to save himself and his friend’s little brother from a dealer with a gun. If what Getty said is true, Stone Kane is a noble and loyal friend. If that’s not sexy as hell, I don’t know what is.

  Son of a bitch, I don’t want to go home tonight, but I can’t stay here!

  Now that I know the truth about him, I’m screwed. How can I not fall for him? What a cliché, enemy turned lover! Shit! Is he really my enemy?

  What am I going to do? I’ll leave. Yes. I have no choice. What would I tell Crash? How do I explain the situation? Now that the truth has been exposed, I feel guilty as hell. Before, I was the only one living with the lie, but Stone knows my betrayal. Hell, he’s known it for as long as it has existed.

  I’m so confused!

  Do I respect him for not outing me to his family, or should I be angry that he let me live in a fantasy of revenge for so long? Then there’s the way everything inside melts when he looks at me, and the way he acts as though he’s interested in me. I never knew Stone Kane to be interested in anything besides his damn guitar.

  I can’t trust myself around him. I must leave! Hey, I’m not stuck here! I have my own car. Even if I have to hitch a ride back to the house with the brothers, I’ll do that, pack my shit, and I’ll take my ass straight home. Yes. That’s it! I’ll leave tonight! I will leave right now!

  “Hey,” Stone says, and yanked from the planning going on in my strong and independent mind, I look up at the rock star who melted all kinds of hearts tonight. “I’m starved.” His eyes touch me in all my secret places. “You wanna get some pizza?”

  “Sounds good.” I smile.

  Yeah, I suck!

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “I’m gonna go take a shower,” Stone says with a hitched thumb in the direction of the bathroom on the first floor.

  “Sounds good. I think I will too. It’d be good to get the smell of the pizza joint off me.” I start for the stairs and stop.

  It’s killing me. The unanswered question that’s been running through my head all night. Are we staying or going?

  “Stone?” I spin around as he’s setting his guitar case against the wall.

  He flips his hair from his face, and those deep, intoxicating liquor eyes pour into me. “Yeah?”

  “What’s going on? I mean, are we heading out tonight? I know it’s late, but—”

  “No,” he says, hushing my anxious curiosity. “I’m not going anywhere. I plan on staying here for the week.”

  “Oh.” I stare at him, the silence eating away at my courage. “Okay.” I nod. “So, my job here is done? You don’t need my help with the groupies?” I smile through thick apprehension.

  “That’s correct,” he says, expression unreadable.

  “Okay.” I nod again and start for the stairs, the dismissal causing an unsettled feeling in my gut. He doesn’t want me here.

  “But Jaggs,” I hear him say, and concentrating on the climb, I halt my foot on the second stair.

  My hand tightens on the rail. Unable to look him in the eyes, I keep my gaze fixed on the stairs. “Yeah?”

  “I want you to stay.”

  “Why?” Unable to pull my eyes away from the stairs, fearful of what I might find if I move, I wait for a response, burning a hole in every step.

  “Look at me,” he says, but no matter how gentle and reassuring he sounds, I shake my head. “Jaggs.”

  “What?” I snap, daring to look the bear directly in his all-consuming eyes.

  “You know why,” he says like no other explanation is warranted. “Now,” he pauses long enough for a response, but I return my eyes to the stairs. “I’m going to take that shower.”

  I get out a quick, “Okay.”

  He disappears down the hall. Great! I stomp up the stairs. All I’m going to be thinking about while I’m in the shower is him in the shower! And he wants me to stay!

  Thirty minutes later, too chicken to leave my room, I put on a tee shirt and crawl into bed. Not sure what to do now that he doesn’t need me, I pull the sheet up and decide I’ll sleep on it. Yes, that’s what I’ll do.

  Who am I kidding? I’m not going to be able to sleep a wink.

  He’s right. I know why he wan
ts me to stay. It’s the way he looks at me. The way he kisses me. The way he touches me.

  I know what he wants.

  I want it too.

  Somewhere between almost losing myself to the darkness, I hear the faint creak of the door. My eyes snap open. With enough light from the hallway streaming into the room, I see Stone walk in and bend down to where his pillow and blanket are on the floor.

  “Oh, you don’t need to sleep on the floor tonight. You can take one of the other rooms or—”

  “I’m not sleeping on the floor.” He throws the pillow and blanket on the bed. “And I’m not sleeping down the hall or on the couch.” He pulls off his shirt, and right along with my bravery, he tosses it to the floor.

  “No?” My eyes widen, and I clutch the sheet closer to my chest. “Just where do you plan on sleeping then?”

  He points at me, and the small direct-action calls to every nerve in my body. I go from cold to hot, calm to tense, dry to wet, soaking wet! After a lengthy look of his tattooed muscle-bound chest, I swallow back the anticipation caught in my throat. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  “Probably not.” He moves to the side of the bed. “But there’s only one way to find out.” He unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down. “Besides, I promised myself I’d make you come in the next thirty minutes. So let me in because the clock’s a tickin’.” In only his boxers, he slides in the bed next to me and props himself up on an elbow with a cocky smile.

  Shit! Thirty minutes? A lot can happen in thirty minutes, like my sexually deprived body could come five times! Dammit! I can’t breathe. I can’t speak. All I can do is burn up in the fire he’s lit inside me. He lightly touches my face with the tip of his finger. He runs it along the outside of my face, and my eyes close.

  “Jaggs,” he whispers in that smooth whiskey voice.

  “Yeah,” I utter, falling prey to his gentle, slow, and soft touch.

  “I'm gonna close my eyes.” His finger slithers over my lips with applied pressure on the bottom one. “And if you want me to stay, take off your shirt.” The provocative trail moves to my neck. “I’ll give you one minute, and if it’s still on, then I’ll take the hint and leave. Okay?”

  Heart beating all through my body, I bite my bottom lip, and too afraid to open my eyes to reality, I nod. His hand moves from my body. I count to twenty. Ya know, to make him sweat it out, but each silent second filled with his strong, I dare ya to fuck me scent renders the time that much longer.

  I crack an eye open to be sure his are closed. Damn him! They are, and he’s still got that smug grin on his face. He knows my shirt is coming off! I can only hope he’s this confident once I’m naked.

  Well, here goes nothin’.

  I slip my hands under the sheet and pull my shirt up and over my head. I drop it on the side of the bed and yank the sheet back up over my chest. Recognizing the soft, cool material against my naked skin, the man lying on his side beside me, and the fact I have no underwear on, my nipples harden.

  “Okay,” I whisper, the anticipation about to be the death of me.

  Eyes shut, he smiles and lifts a single finger in the air. OMG! Is he counting? A few more torturous seconds go by before, like that single harrowing finger, his long eyelashes lift. The small amount of light hits the gold specks in his eyes as they fall on me and flow down my body.

  He pinches the sheet at my belly. “Let’s see what we have here.” Taking his time, he lifts the sheet, sliding it over my full breasts. He inspects them for a moment. “They’re much nicer than I imagined.”

  “You imagined them?”

  “Yes.” He peers down at me through long dark strands of hair. His head lowers. He takes the nipple farthest from him into his mouth.

  “Oh.” I grip the mattress sheet, arching my back. He sinks his teeth into it. It’s been a long time since a man— “Shit!” In hickey fashion, he sucks me. “Damn!” I grab his head. My pussy tightens. Oh, hell no! “Stone!” He’s not going to make me come merely from sucking on my nipple. “Take your boxers off.” I squirm beneath him.

  His mouth moves from me. The air hits my raw nipple, and I feel the damage he’s done, my flesh so tender and sore. “Not yet.” He smiles before going back down for the other one.

  “When then?” I kick the sheets wrapped around my legs.

  “You know,” I hear him murmur against me.

  Shit! Shit! Shit! He means when I come.

  Well, the way he’s munching on me like I’m his only meal for the day, it’ll take only a couple of minutes! His hand cups my breast as he concentrates on tormenting me with his mouth and teeth.

  Screw it!

  I push my chest out, moaning and urging for more.

  “That’s it. Don’t fight it.” His hand slithers down my belly to between my legs.

  “Oh, shit!” The fear of instant release squeezes my legs together.

  “Jaggs,” he rasps, dropping kisses up my neck to my ear. “Let me in, baby.” His hand presses against where I ache for fulfillment the most. “It’s okay.” He nuzzles his lips into the crook of my neck and shoulder. “Please, baby.”

  “What the hell!” I relax my legs, and the moment I do, he thrusts a finger deep inside me. “No!” I go to sit up to protect my vulnerable, cast under Stone Kane’s spell pussy.

  “Yes.” He captures my mouth, pushes me back down on the pillow, and plays my pussy like he does the guitar, with perfect and controlled precision. His fingers pluck my clit and stroke my sensitive flesh until I’m responding in loud opera sounds.

  I go blind. My body tenses. Then it happens—that unexplainable, hot, uncontrollable, and incredible sensation bursts inside me. It fights for I don’t know how long for somewhere to go! And before my body can recover from the encounter, Stone’s inside me, deep and hard. I wrap my legs around him and grab his face. “Yes!” I pull his mouth to mine and crush him with encouraging kisses.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  She puts a hand over her mouth, legs crossed, laughing on the sofa about something I said. What? I forget as the blanket falls from her shoulder exposing more of her velvety skin. From heart to cock, I’m amazed at the way my body responds to her. For the past five days, she’s remained half-naked around me. Be it in the shower, in the kitchen, the living room, or the bedroom, she’s hidden nothing.

  That’s not true. When I try to bring up her past, her sister, or anything before I entered her world, she covers up. It’s going to take a lot more than that to stop me from asking. I want to know everything about her; the good, the bad, and the unspoken.

  I want it all.

  “You can’t eat all of that.” I glance at the bowl of popcorn in her lap, recalling what was going on.

  “Oh, but I can!” She pops a handful in her mouth, smiling, nodding, and chewing.

  “Give me that.” I take the bowl from her and laugh. “I thought foster mom number four taught you how to share.”

  “Three!” she corrects with a show of fingers. “But popcorn is something I never share!” She dives at me, reaching for the bowl.

  I stretch my arm out, and she lands right where I want her, on top of me laughing. I lean forward and snag her lips for a quick kiss. Fuck! I can’t get enough of her. Not in the bed, not on the court, not on the sofa, and not in my arms. She’s like this magical liquid that won’t stop filling my empty cracked glass.

  “Ha!” She grabs the bowl from my lax grip and slumps back to her side of the sofa.

  “Okay.” I laugh. “You win.” I place a hand behind my head and look up at her, watching as she pops a couple more pieces in her mouth. She stares back at me. Like sharpened nails, her eyes scathe my naked chest. “Yeah.” I run my hand down my belly, her eyes obediently following my every move. I rest at the waistband of my boxers. “Ya better save some of your appetite for later.”

  “Why?” She grins. Her bright violet-blue eyes on full sparkle. �
��You part of the menu?”

  “Always.” I smile. “At least for as long as you want me to be.”

  As usual, when I bring up a reality besides the here and now, her eyes scurry away. She sets the nearly empty bowl on the coffee table and brushes off her hands. “That was good!”

  “Too much butter for my liking.” I scrunch my nose, prepared for the quick subject change.

  “Why didn’t you say anything? We didn’t have to put so much butter on it.”

  “I didn’t mind. I don’t really like popcorn.” I readjust my arm behind my head. “I made it for you.”

  “Oh.” Her cheeks flush. It’s as if she doesn’t expect people to do nice things for her, like cover her up at night with a blanket when she’s cold or make her breakfast in bed.

  “Tell me about your mom.” It’s time to dig in my heels. I only have one more day with her.

  “What do you want to know?” She yanks the blanket back over her bare shoulders.

  “Anything.” I gaze up at her.

  Her eyes reluctantly meet mine. “Well, let’s see…” She blows out and looks up at the ceiling, stealing away from my watchful eyes. “The last time I saw my mother was when she left me and my little sister in an old beat-up wagon at the park. She went off for a fix, and the next day, a jogger found us. He brought us to his car and called 911.” She looks at the bowl on the coffee table, concentrating on the floral pattern around the center of it.

  I stare at her in disbelief and anger. “How old were you?”

  “I was four, and Jenny had just turned one. Damn.” She exhales. “It was so cold.” She gathers the blankets tighter around her. “I remember holding Jenny close to me to keep us warm. She cried for the first hour or two. I went deaf to it, preferring it to the scary sounds in the dark at the park.” She pauses for a second, and I’m lost to the despair that’s manifested on her beautiful face. “It was so dark. I was so scared, and because it was mostly my responsibility, I kept thinking Jenny’s diaper needed to be changed. It was too cold to strip her down, and I convinced myself I couldn’t do it in the dark. Then…” Her upper body shakes as if trying to shake away the memory of the cold. “That jogger, the one who found us, he must’ve had kids or something ’cause after he called for help, he put Jenny in the back seat of his car, and he changed her. I knelt in the passenger seat, watching and shivering all over. I can still smell her strong stench, and her bottom was so red and raw. It took days for it to get better.” She glances again at the ceiling. “When the cops showed up, it didn’t take them long to find her body in the woods.” She wipes her nose with the back of her hand.