Beautiful Distraction (7 page)

The storm picks up again. The night’s one drawn-out opus of
splattering rain and howling wind. I barely manage to get a few hours of sleep
before a noise wakes me.

I sit up straight, familiarizing myself with my
surroundings, my ears straining to place the sounds.

I’m still at Kellan’s place. So, that part’s not a dream.

The sky is still dark and starless, with nothing but the
moon lighting up the room. I’m surrounded by the sound of the wind, the swaying
of branches, the soft spattering of rain.

Pure, complete nature.

It must be what woke me.

Having lived in NYC all my life, I’m used to noise: the
constant rumble of traffic, the honking, the hollow thudding of the music in
nearby bars and shops, the shouting of the drunk on a Saturday night. I’m so
used to my life in the city and the fumes that the complete absence of noise
unnerves me.

It’s supposed to be calming, and yet I find it peculiarly
strange.

I feel as if I’ve been sucked into a black hole and spat out
on another planet.

As if I’ve become the air itself, trapped somewhere between
the earth and sky, and I don’t know which way I want to go.

Somewhere in the distance, I hear the agitated chirping of
birds, celebrating that soon a new dawn will break. Slowly, I sink back into
the pillows and pull the covers up to my chin.

As soon as I close my eyes, I hear it again.

It’s the same sound that woke me.

I cannot ignore it.

It sounds like…

I jump up, eyes wide open, my heart stopping, as I become
aware of one fact.

It’s coming from the adjacent room.

That’s where Kellan’s sleeping.

It’s unmistakably moaning, interrupted by heavy breathing.
And then soft voices.

Kellan has a woman in
there.

I reach out for my phone on the table. The clock says it’s
four a.m. I left Mandy and Kellan barely two hours ago. My heart sinks as I
recall the last few hours.

During dinner, which consisted of medium rare steak and
bread, Kellan was friendly, respectful, and formal. I expected more sexual
advances, but to my surprise, none came. There were no double meanings. No
lingering looks. No more mentions of Club 69. Not even an intimate encounter
that would put my willpower to the test. No mention of his girlfriend either.

The entire dinner focused mostly on our trip to Montana,
Kellan’s house—it’s been in his family for generations—and a very
long and heated conversation on the New York Yankees, Mandy’s team, and Boston
Red Sox, Kellan’s favorite baseball team. Even Mandy, with her intense
character and her big mouth, kept any snarky remarks to herself, for which I
was very grateful. Except for a few glances Kellan and I exchanged, nothing
happened—which both relieved and frustrated the hell out of me. At around
two a.m., tiredness crept over me, and I excused myself, leaving Mandy and
Kellan alone in the living room.

Which, maybe I shouldn’t have, because now I have no idea
what went down.

What is
still
going down.

I might have been so focused on avoiding him that the
thought of him hitting on Mandy never occurred to me when it was a likely
possibility. Their heated discussion could have easily turned into a heated
situation with them ending up in his bed.

Upon our arrival, when Mandy hinted not so subtly that she’d
go after him I didn’t take her seriously. How could I have been so wrong? A
pang of pain, raw and sharp, hits me in the chest. I can’t help but feel
betrayed.

I rise to my feet and tiptoe to the door, my heart beating
in a frenzy. Fear chokes my throat as I head for Kellan’s room and linger in
front of the door.

It’s cracked open. Caught in the throes of passion, they
probably forgot to close it.

My heart lurches. I feel faint.

Every part of my brain tells me that Kellan can fuck
whomever he wants.

But every fiber of my being screams that Mandy knows I’m
into him. That even though I told her she could fuck him, I didn’t mean it.

Maybe she wants him for herself.

I have to know what’s happening in there, if only to know
where I’m standing.

I close my eyes, sickness washing over me as I picture the
worst-case scenario.

I promise myself not to be angry at Mandy, but I know that’s
not a promise I can keep.

By fucking him, she’s betraying every friendship code.

Should I make my presence known? Should I confront them? I
have no plan. I just need to know.

Opening my eyes, I take a deep breath to prepare myself for
what I’m about to see. As I crack the door a little bit wider so I can scan the
room through the gap, nothing could have prepared me for what I see.

The truth hits me like thunder.

The bed is on the east side, facing the wall to my room.
Kellan’s alone, naked on the bed, his eyes shut. He’s propped up against the
pillows; the sheets are gathered around his ankles. A radio station is running in
the background, voices chatting, but the volume’s too low to make out the
words.

There is no woman, no girl, no Mandy in sight.

He is all alone with his cock. His enormous, hard cock,
which he now holds in his hand.

Holy shit.

I stare at his erection, the blood rising to my face. I know
I should head back to my room, but I can’t. I’m too mesmerized by what I see.

The picture in front of me is hot. Too hot. It’s so much
better than anything I’ve ever seen. And so intimate. I hold my breath as I
take him in.

All of him.

He looks like a god engaged in his favorite activity, his
beautiful face drawn in concentration.

One hand is wrapped around his cock, moving up and down in
hard, determined strokes, the other pressed down on his balls, forcing back the
orgasm he’s chasing. His lips are slightly parted as another sexy moan ripples
through his chest.

I stare at the engorged head glistening with wet arousal,
and something twitches between my legs.

He’s so caught up in his own pleasure that he doesn’t hear
me, even though I’m pretty sure my own heartbeat’s so loud that even Mandy can
hear it from her bedroom on the far side of the hall.

This is too personal. I shouldn’t be watching him,
particularly when I don’t even have a good excuse or the right to be in his room.
But there’s something about him, about the way he seems so caught up in his
arousal, that makes me want to stay, to break the rules.

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s night and I can be someone I’m
not.

Shit.

I’m probably turning into a peeping Tom. I’m a voyeur.

I’ll probably burn in Hell.

But I can’t move. The movements of his hand speed up. His
chest rises and falls. I can tell from the sound of him pleasuring
himself—pumping up and down—that he’s getting closer to orgasm.

I want to share that orgasm with him.

My own arousal grows with every move, every shaking breath
he takes, every swipe of his tongue across his lips, and the deep groans of
pleasure escaping his chest.

I bite hard on my lip until I can taste blood.

I want to touch him, taste him, feel him inside me.

I ache to replace his hand with mine as he strokes over the
rim of his head. Suck his tongue into my mouth as he wets his lower lip.

I want to kiss him. To cup his heavy balls. To take him into
my mouth, if only to release the throbbing inside me.

I feel lightheaded.

He has captured my breath.

The air I’m holding—I have to let it out of my chest,
but I can’t out of fear that he could hear me.

I know he would.

But I have to breathe—fast.

Without blinking, I turn away, not bothering to close his
door, and quickly walk back to my room. As soon as I’ve locked myself inside,
the air comes out of me with a swishing sound.

I sink onto the bed, my heart beating against my ribcage, my
head swirling, painful regret and trembling desire sloshing through me. My
whole body is shaking, on fire.

I need him.

Why didn’t I take him up on his offer?

Holy shit.

I had no idea he looks so hot in bed.

Watching him taking care of his needs is going to haunt my
dreams. Even though we share everything, there’s no way in hell I’ll tell Mandy
about it, or else she’ll make fun of me for the rest of my life.

This is going to be a secret I’ll take with me to my grave.

Holy. Shit.

Through the thin walls—God, is this house made of
cards?—I can hear his heavy breathing and deep groans of pleasure. He’s
getting close to pleasure heaven. I’m frozen in time and space. All I can do is
picture his face, his huge erection in his hand.

Walls may be separating us, but I know in my heart he’s
going to be my undoing.

Sure, I had imagined him, us, countless times in the past
few weeks.

But I never thought I’d see him again. And surely not like
this
.

I close my eyes, my mind focusing on the picture of him on
his bed.

But now he’s no longer alone.

It’s me who’s doing all the naughty things to him. He’s
groaning while I’m pleasuring him. I like the thought that he’s aroused because
of me.

My hand slips into my panties. Between my legs, I’m dripping
wet—for him. The muscles inside me clench, the heat unbearable. I slide
two fingers inside me, imaging it’s his fingers that glide between my wet
folds.

To the sounds coming from next door, I begin to touch
myself. When he comes, my own orgasm ripples through me.

A rap at the door jolts me out of a dream involving the most
beautiful yet infuriating green eyes I have ever seen. I don’t bother to cover
up my half-naked body as I shout, “Come in.”

The door opens, but instead of Mandy’s head popping in, it’s
Kellan who’s standing in the doorway. I sit up straight, surprised to see him,
all traces of sleep gone.

The image of his erection enters my mind, and I remember
last night’s events.

I remember what I did.

Oh, the mortification.

My face catches fire as I cross my legs to hide the after-orgasm
effects.

“Slept well?” He sports the usual irritating, smug
expression.

My heart skips a couple of beats.

Yes, I slept well.

Too well. All thanks to him.

In broad daylight, he still looks like the jerk I remember
from our first meeting. A sexy grin tugs at one corner of his mouth, sending my
insides into a jumbled frenzy of stirred emotions. The hair is definitely
longer than it was back in NYC, and the crisp businessman look is gone. The
slightest hint of dark stubble throws shadows on his cheeks and chin, and he
looks surprisingly sexy in yet another pair of faded denims and a snug shirt
that leaves little to the imagination. Without a doubt, he’s the most stunning
man I have ever seen. And I have absolutely no idea what to do with myself in
his presence. I’m the most reasonable and composed person I’ve ever known.
Nothing ever fazes me, and yet, for some reason, I can’t be my usual cool self
around him. Particularly not now, with all those vivid memories occupying my
mind.

Does he know I watched him jerk off?

Impossible. His eyes were closed the whole time, and I’m
sure I stood there no longer than two minutes. I mean, surely no one can hold
their breath for longer than that.

But did he hear my moans through the thin walls?

I tried to be quiet, but how quiet can you be when you’re
lost in sexual nirvana?

That was the question that bothered me immediately after I
came. Even if he heard me, why shouldn’t I consider it only fair that he be
embarrassed too? After all, fair is fair.

Why am I even pondering over what can’t be changed now?

Because he can’t possibly know.

 
I need to push
this memory to the back of my mind—deny it, bury it deep inside my
subconscious, so that not even a Freud follower could extract it. I’m going to
lie to myself until the lie becomes the truth. How hard can that be?

Until then, it’s going to be my secret.

My terrible, hot…hot…hot secret.

Oh, God.

No one has a cock like Kellan: big, engorged, perfect in its
size and thickness.

No one redefines jerking off the way he does. He’s the
reinvention of holy hotness.

I’m such a lost cause. If Sigmund Freud were still alive, I
know what he’d tell me, and it wouldn’t be pretty.

“Everything okay? You look a little flustered,” Kellan
remarks.

“Yeah. I just had a—”

Bad dream
, I
wanted to say, but I can’t, because then I would have to lie and claim the
dream was most certainly not about him, nor about his gift of a manhood to the
female population.

“You had what?” Kellan prompts.

“I just couldn’t—”

Sleep.

What the hell!

I can’t say that either because he might think that I heard
him. If he so much as catches a whiff of the idea that I sneaked around last
night, I’m so going down. Big and fast—like the way he pumped into his
palm.

Shit.

The words
big
and
fast
are making me horny.

“Mmmh.” Kellan nods as though he totally gets me, which I’m
sure he doesn’t. “So, you slept well? The fresh country air must have knocked
you out.”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “I slept like a stone. No, make that a
boulder.” What the fuck am I saying? That doesn’t make any sense. I let out a
nervous laugh. Heat rolls over my body in thick, fast waves, and the tender
spot between my legs begins to pulsate again. I need to get this guy out of my
bedroom. “Thanks for letting us stay the night.”

“No problem.” He leans against the doorframe and regards me,
amused. “It’s nice to have company. Your friend told me a bit about you after
you left.”

Judging from Kellan’s grin, Mandy’s revealed all the crappy
details of my failed love life and all the embarrassing, cringe-worthy
incidents that came with it.

I’m all for honesty, just not to a hot guy.

Glaring at Kellan, I pray to God she’s kept her mouth shut
for a change.

If she didn’t, I know I’ll have to kill her and dump her
body, and I’m not sure I have the guts for it.

The only reason I’m not taking the bait and asking what
exactly she said is because I really need him to leave.

“I’m making breakfast,” Kellan says casually. His gaze
slides over me, from my tousled hair down to my breasts almost spilling out of
my bra and the not exactly matching but comfortable panties I thought were fine
for a road trip. My heavier bag is still in my car, as finding my way around
this place at two a.m. didn’t seem like such a good idea. Besides, I didn’t
feel like dragging the thing through the mud all by myself again, so I had no
other option but to sleep in yesterday’s underwear. To my mortification,
Kellan’s gaze remains glued to the way the silk panties seem to stick to my
hips and ass. “How do you like your eggs?”

The question is harmless enough.

If it weren’t for the sparkle in his eyes…

Dammit.

I thought we were past that.

For some reason, the picture of eggs runs through my mind.
And then it disappears and makes room for something else. I imagine myself
running my fingers through his hair and pulling him on top of me, my legs
wrapped around his narrow hips, his weight pinning me down as his huge cock
enters me.

Our gazes meet, and something flickers in his eyes.

Awareness.

Knowledge.

Something else.

Something so deep, it travels through my abdomen and settles
in a deep pull between my legs. As if sensing my sexual response to him, he
starts to smile—the same, irritating grin he tossed at me during our
first encounter. I don’t have to ask him what he’s thinking. He knows I’m
attracted to him. I mean, what woman in her right mind with her panties in the
right place wouldn’t be? And judging from his smug expression, he didn’t expect
anything else from me. In fact, the way he stares at my chest suggests he isn’t
averse to a bit of touching either.

 
His ego
certainly fits the chick magnet of a car and the attitude that came with it the
night we first met. The kind of attitude that comes with experience. Years of
dating jerks have taught me to spot it from a mile away.

Thank God I’m immune to whatever Kellan Boyd’s charm is.
Maybe he’s used to being the center of attention, but he’s most certainly not
going to flicker anywhere on my radar.

“I like my eggs like you take them,” I say coolly.

He doesn’t even blink. “Can I convince you to try the bacon,
too? Because you strike me as a meat person.”

And here it is again: the slightest hint of sexual innuendo
accompanied by another lingering look at my chest. A tremor rides my core as I
shrug, forcing myself to remain as unfazed as humanly possible. “Sure. I’d love
some bacon. Make it extra greasy.”

His brow shoots up, and his face brightens just a little bit
more. “I love a woman who loves to eat,” he states with what I assume is
admiration, his eyes roaming over my body again. “You have a nice body. Lots to
grab and hold on to.”

Wow.

Talk about direct.

I’m not even sure any woman would take ‘lots to grab’ as a
compliment.

I pull the sheets up to my chin to cover up. I even throw
him a venomous look for not even trying to pretend to look away, but I don’t
quite succeed. “Is there anything else?”

“As a matter of fact, there is,” he says and pauses. Before
I can open my mouth and ask him what the hell he wants, he continues, “Yeah,
before I forget. Your friend left.”

“She left?” I ask, surprised.

“Yeah.” He nods. “About twenty minutes ago.”

I regard him, stunned, my heart beating frantically against
my chest. Mandy just left me here—with him? “Are you joking?”

“Feel free to check her room.”

A wave of something hot sprouts somewhere inside
me—not the emotional kind, but the sexy kind, the kind that crawls right
under my skin and makes it tingle. “Maybe I’ll do that.” I stare at him, ready
to challenge him, but Kellan just laughs.

“Okay. While you do that, make sure to be on time.”

“For what?”

“Breakfast. What else?” He winks at me. “It’ll be ready in
fifteen. Feel free to put on some clothes…or not. I’d rather you didn’t anyway.”
The irritating grin doesn’t leave his face as he turns around, calling over his
shoulder, “By the way, I prefer my eggs hard, just like everything else about
me.”

He closes the door behind him.

I swallow hard and stare at the empty space he left behind.

Eventually, I shake my head and pull the covers over my face,
groaning loudly.

Mandy left without telling me? And what the fuck did Kellan
mean by putting on some clothes…or not? I thought I had made myself clear back
in NYC that I wasn’t interested in him.

My impression of him seems to shift from one end of the
spectrum to the next, just like my emotions shift from guilty awe to the
desperate need to hate him. He looks like a decent but sexy kind of guy when he
just smiles. But once he opens his mouth, every single thing that comes out of
it seems to irk me.

It’s like sex is the only thing he ever thinks about.

How the fuck can someone like him focus on work long enough
to make a living and drive the half a million car he does?

Okay, I’ll admit I Googled the price tag of his Lamborghini.

Judging from what I’ve seen so far, he’s filthy rich with a
filthy mouth and even filthier morals.

I’ve never been around a guy like him.

Even though breakfast sounds like something I’m very much in
need of, the idea of being alone with him doesn’t seem too appealing. But if I
avoid him, he’ll think I’m doing it because he’s so sexy I can’t take it.

Which is kind of the truth.

I can’t take just how much he gets under my skin.

Obviously, this nonsense has to stop.

Mandy has to come back now.

Full stop.

Grabbing the phone from my night table, I dial her number,
but the instant beep confirms I have no signal.

Crap!

I toss the phone onto the bed and jump up. Maybe Kellan will
let me use his landline to call her, which means I’ll have to join him
downstairs.

Clutching at my toothbrush and my makeup bag, I head for the
bathroom down the hall. On my way there, I peer inside Mandy’s room. Her bag’s
still here; the contents of her suitcase are neatly stashed inside the
wardrobe. I can’t believe she’s taken the time to unpack, as though she’s not
planning on leaving today, as per our agreement.

It still doesn’t make sense why she’d just leave without
asking me to tag along.

Unless….

I freeze as the sudden realization hits me.

She left so I’d get to spend time alone with Kellan…and get
rid of the cobwebs between my legs.

I know that because that’s exactly what someone like Mandy
would do.

Obviously, I’ll have to tell my idiot best friend her
attempt was in vain.

I won’t sleep with him. Full stop. I’m a woman who has
morals, or at least someone who attempts to have morals.

As soon as I step in front of the mirror, I cringe.

My hair is a mess, and my eyes are swollen, framed by dark
circles.

I look like a ragdoll.

Kellan didn’t seem to mind much though.

He seems to want me,
just as much as I want him. I just don’t have the faintest idea why.

Why am I even asking
myself this question?

Whatever the answer is, I have to run from him without
letting him know that I’m doing so. While I wouldn’t mind a bit of fun, my
heart beats a bit too fast around him, which is never a good sign.

I throw on yesterday’s jeans and top, run a hand through my
hair, then apply some mascara and a sheer shade of red lipstick. Finally, I
head out the door, confident that I can do this.