Because of You (25 page)

“Sure.”

Kyle goes over to the cabinet under the TV and pulls open a drawer. There are dozens of movies. “
Sherlock Holmes
or
Inglorious Basterds
?”

It’s fun watching him. I push myself to the edge of the couch.

“If you want pure entertainment, there’s
Transformer
s, or
Avatar
, or…” as he says the name of the movie, he pulls out the case. “
Star Trek
is actually pretty good.”

I rest my face in my hands, unable to help but smile. “Let’s watch
Sherlock Holmes
,” I say.

“You read my mind.” He grabs the movie and puts it in the DVD player. Then presses something, and the movie previews appear on the screen.

“You mind if I use your bathroom?”

“Of course. I even cleaned it because I knew you were coming.” He walks over and flicks on the light.

I can’t help but notice the closed doors to the left of the bathroom and I wonder what’s behind them. Kyle never confirmed or denied the allegations about his kinky nature. Other things came up. And now I’m wondering what’s behind the doors. Kyle follows my eyes, and I know he knows what I’m thinking.

“You want to see the rest of the apartment?” He moves to the door on the left and opens it. There is a small, brown upright piano on the far wall, a window directly across from the door, and a closet to the left. Sheet music, music stands, and boxes of old music books are scattered all over the floor. “Piano room,” he says, nonchalant.

“I love it,” I say, and mean it. “You’re so lucky. I miss having a piano so close by. You can roll out of bed and practice, play until your heart is content.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I guess that’s pretty cool.” Then he closes the door and moves on to the door at the end of the small hall.

From his pocket he pulls out a key. My heart is suddenly racing. Fast. Furious. The secret room. The bed where he tied Beth and Baby to the bed.

“You sure you want to see what’s in here?”

I want to be brave, tell him, “Of course,” but I’m petrified and agitated. So instead I only nod.

He puts the key in the lock and turns. The door clicks open and he pushes it out of the way.

I step closer, move past him. It’s dark until Kyle flips on the light. I can’t help gulping down some air.

Inside is a large mahogany four-poster bed. Lush linens in black and gold. A matching dresser across from it, and a closet to the right. On either side of the bed are identical nightstands. There’s a black bench under the large window, covered in pillows. The room is beautiful. “Wow. It’s—it’s—”

“Really kinky, right?” His features are furrowed.

And I realize he’s sad.

Finally I get it. “Kyle, I’m so sorry.”

I run to him and hug him tightly. Because I realize I’m letting him down. The things people say about him, the rumors, they’re just that. Rumors. College kids making shit up. I know the real Kyle. He’s shown me over and over the past few weeks.

He responds by hugging me tight. He tilts back so I can see his face and leans in. Kisses me. His lips are gentle, filled with care.

“Mmm, you are a great kisser,” I whisper against his lips.

He smirks, his lips still on mine. “And you’re such an authority.”

“Hey, I have good taste.” My fingers have found their way under his brown t-shirt, stroking the tight skin over his ripped abs. My pinky fingers keep brushing against the band of his jeans. Goosebumps constrict his skin, and he breathes out slowly. “You smell like garlic,” I say.

He chuckles. “Ooh, tell me how you really feel.”

I know he’s joking, but I decide to take the opportunity to be serious. “So what exactly is kinky?”

He steps back, a questioning look on his face. “You’re joking.”

“No. I’ve heard the word used a lot lately. Those girls said you tied them to the bed.” I step out of his arms. “I’ve seen a video about sex. I get the logistics of the actual act. But… Well, obviously there’s more.” I pause, taking a deep breath to steady my raging nerves. “The way you make me, my body feel. That has nothing to do with having babies.”

Kyle smiles and kisses the top of my head. “I’m not sure why they started saying I like it kinky. I mean I guess…” He trails off and walks to the closet, then turns back. “Can I show you?”

A nervous giggle escapes. This is my worst nightmare. That he would want me to be into whatever wacky stuff he’s into, and I can’t. I won’t.

At least let him show you what he’s talking about
, I think. “Okay, but go easy on me. No whips or handcuffs.” My hands cross over my chest. And my mouth is suddenly parched.

“Not until you’re ready, Freckles,” he says sarcastically as he pulls open the closet door.

I’m suddenly desperate to see what’s inside, but, at the same time, I’m terrified. What sorts of things are in there? Beyond handcuffs and a whip, I’m clueless. So it’s more about curiosity. But when I move toward him, he closes the door.

“Hey, I’m ready.” I put my hands on my hips.

“Really? Then take off your clothes.” He arches a brow, gauging whether I’m serious or not.

Noise, the likes of which I’ve never heard, escapes my mouth. “Umm.” All sorts of conflicting feelings are raging.

He chuckles softly. “The kink in the closet will hurt, but only in a good way.” I get the sense that he’s teasing me, but his words have me quaking in my shoes. I take a step toward the door.

He realizes I’m scared and walks over.

“What’s in the closet?” I ask, anxious.

He lowers his eyes. “Not much,” he says, lowering his eyes evasively.

“W-what?” I’ve decided there’s a reason curiosity killed the cat. I don’t want to know anymore. I’ll stick with kissing.

He sighs and walks back over to the closet. Pulls out black material and a black feather. Both are wrapped in plastic. “See these?”

I nod.

“This,” he rips open the plastic containing the material, “is a blindfold. It’s used to cover the eyes of your lover. It allows the person to feel everything more intensely.”

I close my eyes a second. Search for strength. Open them. That might be okay.

“And that?” I ask, pointing at the feather.

He pulls it from the plastic and slides the tip along my inner forearm. Goosebumps grow all over my skin. “It’s for pleasing.” He smiles sadly.

I feel bad about that. I do, but I need to know what sort of stuff he’s into. Better to find out before I fall in love with him. Again.

Too late
, my mind whispers, but I ignore it. “Will you let me see what else is in the closet?”

He sighs.

“Are you going to remain jumpy if I don’t?”

I nod my head yes.

“Then of course I will.” He sighs and swings the door wide open.

I peer inside. There are three garment bags hanging side by side. Underneath are three pairs of shoes. Nothing else. I glance at him, shocked. “Where are the handcuffs, the whips?” As soon as I ask, I regret it.

He goes over and sits on the bed. “I really didn’t want to discuss what I’ve done with other women, but since you keep bringing it up, I’ll tell you, and then hopefully we can put it behind us.”

I nod, kneeling in front of him, placing my hands on his thighs. I want to tell him I’m so sorry and ask his forgiveness, but I can’t. I need to hear what he has to say.

“We’d all been drinking. The girls came over. They brought the handcuffs and the whips. They thought it would be fun. I decided what the hell, and went for it. It was fine. Nothing to brag about. But those girls seem to disagree. Now I’m kinky and like it rough. Every time I hear the rumors, my sexual prowess and need for all things kinky gets worse. I don’t think I’m kinky at all. I’d call what I like sensual.” He puts his face in his hands. “But whatever, now you know.”

Him being sensual with me makes my knees quake. Still, I can’t let what I’ve heard go. “But this room? Why in here and not your regular room?”

“It’s just a room.” He chuckles sadly. “My aunt picked out the bedding and furniture. She thinks a guest bedroom should be nice. She paid for it.” He puts his hands over mine.

I feel like a total bitch. “I’m s—”

He touches a hand to my lips. “Don’t say it. You’re the first person to give a shit. You asked me about it. That’s more than anyone else has.”

I reach out and pull his face down to me. I kiss him with all the feeling in my soul, for the boy who’s now a man, and a man I adore with all my heart. When our kiss breaks, his sadness is gone, replaced by need. For me.

“Feel better?” he asks, his eyes on my lips.

I swallow. Nod breathlessly. “I’m surprised really. I thought there would be all sorts of weird stuff in there. But I do feel much better.”

“Have I disappointed you?” He smirks.

“A little bit.” Though the truth is I’m relieved.

“Will you take off your clothes?”

“Serious? All of them? Right now?”

“If you want to leave your bra and panties on, I’ll manage.” He sets the blindfold, and the feather on the bed and walks to the bedroom door. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

“Okay. Wait.” I place my hand on his forearm.

Kyle smiles, a delicious-I’m-gonna-rock-your-world kind of smile, and I hesitate a second.

“Can I brush my teeth?”

Turning so we face each other, he grabs me around the waist and presses my body into his. “You want to brush your teeth? That’s so sexy.” He chuckles and kisses the tip of my ear.

I suck in a breath. “Well, if your breath smells like garlic, then I’m sure mine does too.”

He laughs. “I’ve got something better.” From the nearest nightstand he opens a drawer and pulls out a bottle of vodka. The clear liquid glistens in the light of the bedroom. He pulls out two shot glasses and fills each one. Then he hands me one and takes the other. “Ready?”

I gulp, my nerves calming at the sight of it.

“Bottoms up.”

We drink together. When he’s finished, he slams his glass on the nightstand. I follow. The vodka burns its sweet burn all the way down.

“Another?” I ask, eager for the bold abandon that comes with it. It’ll chase away all my fears. Make me brave, less wrapped up in my own head.

“I’ve got something else in mind once you’re undressed.”

He kisses me, long and deep, his tongue making me quiver. The warm glow of the alcohol licks its way along my nerve endings. I sigh against his mouth.

“I’ll be right back.” He’s gone before I can respond.

I slide off my shoes, undo my pants, and allow them to fall to the floor. Pull off my shirt and toss it in the pile with my shoes and pants.

That was fast
.
Now what?
I’m wearing a lacy pink bra and matching panties. I walk to the bench and pick up the throw pillows, touching. Pull open the chest of drawers. They’re empty.

“Another shot is in order,” I decide aloud, and pour myself one. Swallow. It burns, burns, burns. So good. Every worry, concern, frustration I’ve ever had diminishes. So I drink one more.

Then fall back on the bed. The comforter is soft. Close my eyes, relax.

I imagine Kyle touching me with the feather and I pick it up, run it through my fingers. I’m warm everywhere. My lower belly is tight with anticipation.

The door opens and he’s there.

“Kyle,” I say, sitting up.

His eyes rake my body. Each spot his eyes touch ignites with heat. He’s got the same dark blue jeans on, but his brown shirt is gone, as are his shoes.

I smack my hands on the bed in frustration. Why do I keep forgetting to look at his shoes until it’s too late? It’s ludicrous.

“What’s the matter? Don’t like my outfit?” He lets out a soft laugh.

“No, it’s not that.” The words sound a little slurred. “Your shoes. I haven’t seen them.”

He glances at the vodka bottle, back at me. Then walks over, grabs me by the neck and brings his mouth down on mine hard. I think my lips will be bruised tomorrow, but I don’t care. The way he’s kissing me sends a current of molten lava through my veins.

When we break apart his breathing is heavy, and I know it matches my own.

“I always knew you’d be an amazing kisser, Maddie Martin.”

I smile at the compliment, heady with his kisses and the alcohol. He playfully pushes me back. I allow myself to fall against the soft mattress and put my arms above my head. “I have a good teacher,” I say coyly.

He growls. Puts a knee between my legs, spreading them. Climbs on the bed, and leans over me. I think he’s going to kiss me again, but he rocks back on his knees. “Ready for the blindfold?”

I blush, and giggle. “Sure.”

He picks it up and ties it over my eyes. The darkness is liberating. I feel braver already. My hands are drawn to his stomach and I run my fingers along his chest, his abs, to the small area around his belly button. And play with the dark hair running from his belly button to down below. And Kyle’s down below is suddenly of great interest to me.

I unzip his pants, and he sucks in his breath. Holds it. I think he’s waiting to see what I’ll do. I honestly have no idea. When I don’t do anything else, he gently presses his knee further up between my thighs.

“You won’t hurt me?” I ask.

He pushes my legs further apart and kneels between them. “No. Never. I want you to feel incredible.”

“I already do.” I touch my hands to my blindfold, suddenly desirous to see his face, but he pulls my hands away.

“You’re stunning,” he whispers, and I hear him take a deep breath.

I feel the softest touch of the feather along my collarbones. I catch my breath, shocked by how good it feels.

He drags it along each arm, across my stomach. “Will you tell me what your tattoos mean?” He touches each one with the tip of the feather.

“Right now?” I ask, surprised he wants to hear about them at this moment. Weren’t we going to do things? Wasn’t he going to—

Kyle pushes the bottom half of his body against mine. And I gasp. Maybe he wants to do both. And that thought fills my lower belly with quivering butterflies.

“Uh-um.” The alcohol is raging through me in high gear.

He rocks into me again. Brushes his lips against my cleavage. And I can’t think. I want to tell him I have no idea what they mean. None whatsoever.