Kane Richards Must Die (4 page)

S
he really was hot when she was angry but what the hell was she talking about?

Before I could even correct her she was gone, stomping off toward the east without hesitation, leaving me there on the bench.

Confused, and turned on as hell, I sat there just staring at the direction Suranne had headed. She was long gone by now, but I couldn’t move my eyes. I couldn’t move at all. My body just sat frozen while my mind furiously tried to decipher the meanings behind her outburst.

I never said she was worse than those girls. I never would. Surely she knows that. Jesus, I go to
kiss
this girl, something she knows I don’t do, and she throws it back in my face. I go to take her hand and she rips it away from me. I, for the first time since God knows when, force myself to relax, and be honest with her and she screams at me.

No shit, Kane, get the hint already
. Anyone else and I would have been done with them already. Since when has Kane-every-chick-begs-for-Richards had to chase anyone? I . . . well . . . I never have. So why should I start now?

I forced myself to move and get my ass back home when it started to get dark. I was done with the God-why-do-I-like-her-so-much shit swirling my mind. I needed my black silk sheets, I needed my TV, and I needed a drink.

Of course getting her out of my head was going to be easier said than done. God truly does hate me and will enjoy my suffering as much as possible.

By 9 p.m. I was certain that she was just dying to bang me and was denying her insufferable need by trying to act like a total bitch around me but a complete angel to everyone else. Especially Lawrence. Yeah, that’s what it is. She wants me too much but doesn’t want to be chucked the next day.

Cause I would chuck her the next day.

Wouldn’t I?

Yes. She would be boring.

Would she? Given the chance, could I have talked to her for hours?

Damn.

By 10 p.m. I was certain that she was just in a mood and that her sexy-ass body was suffering from unavoidable PMS girly shit. That would have to be the reason why she would storm off on me. No chick ever storms off on me. I mean,
Jesus
I’m too good to look at for that shit.

But then I remembered the expression on her face before she had left. The slight shimmering of her gray eyes.

But I’d seen girls cry before. Usually when I told them to remove their skanky hands from my shirt, or my hair, or wherever they felt the need to grope me the day after. But it wasn’t . . . painful for me to watch them cry. I would merely shrug and move on, telling them to do the same. I mean keeping me to one girl would just be selfish, right? I was taught to share. I was doing a good deed.

Share . . . Suddenly the thought of me having to share Suranne with anyone made my fists clench and my teeth snap.

Even though she wasn’t mine to begin with. But I could change that.

Couldn’t I?

I’d never felt this shit before. Images of hugging her and running my fingers through that sexy hair of hers and listening to her sexy voice filled my head. And I liked it.

What was wrong with me?

By 11 p.m. I was procrastinating sleep. I knew that if I closed my eyes she would be there. Not that it made much of a difference. She was in my head already, eyes open or closed. But I didn’t want to hand myself over to my dreams. Those too real dreams where I would be with her, and she would be smiling and her hair would be flowing and her smell would be all around me. Only to wake up to an empty room knowing that wasn’t the case.

I’m not that masochistic.

Shit.

By 1 a.m. I was done with all my delusional theories on what her problem was and was constantly asking myself why I even cared. She was no one. Just some girl. Who had sexy lips, and nice eyes, and a perky chest, and a firm ass that swayed when she walked and I could just imagine running my fingers down her waist and . . .

Shit.

I stared unseeingly at the moving objects on the TV screen. Nothing made sense, and I had no idea what I was watching. I glanced at my cell to check the time.

1:30 a.m.

I wondered what she was doing, whether she was up and restless because of me, like I was because of her. Would she be sleeping soundly and having dreams that didn’t make her ache for them to be real when she woke up?

I looked over at the east wall of my room and stared at the object in the corner. It had been weeks, months even. For some reason I had lost the desire to walk over there and lose myself. But now it was calling to me. It sat silently against the dark corner, beckoning me to its sleek, smooth structure.

I pulled myself off my bed and padded across the room, not caring about the time, or the fact that my family was sleeping. I did the one thing that I had been refusing to do for too long.

At 1:35 a.m. I pulled out the padded black leather bench, pushed back the smooth wooden lid, and drowned myself in the ivory keys of my piano.

I let the melody run through my mind and pour out through my fingers onto the keys. Giving it a test run, I changed chords and added a random melody. I thought about how much I had this urge to be with her, see her smile, see her laugh, see her eyes close peacefully like she did when she was on the bench alone. Before I showed up and ruined it all.

I changed the tone of the melody as I thought about how she laughed and smiled when she was in school.

I
wanted to be the reason she smiled.
I
wanted to be the reason she laughed. Dammit,
I
wanted to be the reason she was peaceful. Instead I made her angry.

I brought the melody to an end, shifting it to a lower, melancholy key, and slumped on the bench. The urge. The
ache
to be with her was pulsing strongly and I didn’t feel calmer, as I’d hoped. I felt worse.

I went back over to my bed and picked up my cell glancing at the time again.

1:50 a.m.

If I can’t sleep because of her than why the hell should she?

I put on some pants and a black tee and grabbed my car keys. The melody of my piano playing still strolled through my mind. I had to see her. Whether she wanted me to or not.

I
huffed, threw the covers off my body and glanced at the time on my phone.

2 a.m.

Groaning, I laid flat on my back, listening to the faint tick of the huge clock my aunt had downstairs. Staring at the ceiling I tried to lose myself in the noise of the constant ticking, hoping that I could be lulled into sleep. I took a deep breath and just listened.

Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick

Keeping my eyes fastened on the ceiling I tried to blink less often, and felt my eyelids getting heavier.

Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick

I blinked even slower now, and each time I did, my eyes stayed closed much longer than the last.

Tick, tick, tick, tick

“Psst!”

I frowned but kept my eyes closed, staying with the rhythm of the clock and trying to ignore any other sounds, like some animal outside my window.

Tick, tick, tick, tick

“PSSST!!”
The noise was louder, and for some strange reason, didn’t entirely resemble an animal.

“Suranne! Wake up!” it hissed.

I bolted upright out of bed and glanced at the night sky through my window. Oh, God. I recognised that voice. It couldn’t be.

Could it?

I slowly slid my legs to the edge of the bed, and pulled myself upright, taking small, wobbly steps to the window. I glanced downwards, then gasped and clutched my chest with my hand, trying to lower my heartbeat.

There, on the front drive of my aunt’s house, was Kane Richards, using his phone as a light, peering at the front of the house and hissing my name.

I took a deep breath and started chanting to myself to keep calm.

Don’t be happy he’s here. Don’t be happy he’s here.

Oh my God he’s here! Why is he here?!

Calm down, Suranne. Breathe.

I peeked at his figure once again, and smiled. He obviously didn’t notice me standing here watching him, and I could faintly hear him mumbling to himself.

“Shit! . . . getting myself into . . . probably hit me . . . face is too good for that.”

I rolled my eyes and lifted up my window.

“What do you want, Kane?” I sighed as his head snapped up, and his glorious lips turned up in a faint smile.

“Suranne,” he breathed; his voice almost sounded relieved to see me, but I guessed it was more from not having to hiss my name like an idiot at two in the morning than from seeing my face.

I sighed inwardly. If only.

“Well, duh,” I tried to put on my best American accent and rolled my eyes at him. “Who else would it be?”

He laughed and looked down at the grass before fidgeting with his phone.

Hmm . . . Kane Richards looked uncomfortable . . . almost nervous. Well this should be interesting.

“How do you even know where I live?” I asked in a low voice, hoping not to wake my aunt.

He shrugged.

“I googled your aunt. Found the address pretty easy.” His head snapped up at me and his lips curved into a small smile “Hey, could you come down? I need to talk to you.”

“Hold on a sec,” I replied and pulled my window shut, turned, and quietly did a little victory dance, before pulling myself together.

“Be angry, he insulted you,” I murmured to myself, but couldn’t control the grin that was plastered on my face.

I looked for some suitable shoes, but all I could see were my fluffy bunny slippers, and I could just imagine his face when he spotted them. I don’t think I could deal with Kane Richards making a laughing stock out of me at this time of morning.

Christ.

Where were my flats? I couldn’t exactly go out there in heels, that would be ridiculous, but those damn slippers were definitely out of the question.

I’d just have to go barefoot.

I tried smoothing my hair out of its animalistic state and slowly crept down the stairs to the front door. I opened it quietly and stepped out onto the front porch, folding my arms in the process.

Kane was standing further down the drive, with his perfectly toned back to me, and his hand was running through his hair. His tight black top showed his muscles flexing from the movement perfectly, and I bit my lip as my eyes raked over his luscious frame.

“Well?” I asked, with one eyebrow raised. He spun around, and his eyes widened as he slowly stared at my body. I’d forgotten that I was only wearing boy shorts and a tank top and mentally screamed at myself for forgetting to put on some trousers. His eyes continued to run up my legs and rested on my hips before I smirked and cleared my throat.

“If you’ve woken me up at two in the bloody morning only to ogle at my legs you can piss off,” I muttered, and his head snapped up to my eyes, before his face softened and he smiled warmly at me.

God, his smile was sexy.

I put my hands on my hips and waited for him to talk, but he just ran his hand through his hair again and continued blinking at me. I could tell he was thinking about something, but I really didn’t want to stand there forever.

I deliberately sighed and folded my arms again, waiting for him to start, but decided that I was going to start for him. I glared at his face before I spoke.

“You know, you could begin with an apology,” I announced firmly, but his face went dark and his eyes seemed to focus again.

“Suranne,” he breathed quietly, “I don’t know what I said.” His voice seemed strained, and his eyes were shining at me, burning into me whilst his expression looked pleading.

I took a deep breath, as I felt the saliva in my mouth turn sour at the memory of his words.

“You said I wasn’t even close to those other girls, which means that I’m worse right? I mean jeez, if those girls are skanks and you think I’m worse?” I breathed a laugh and shook my head in disbelief.

I felt the stinging in my eyes as his words rang through me again. Why did it hurt so much? I tried to swallow my tears and the lump in my throat. I really didn’t want to cry in front of this guy.

Even in the darkness I could see his eyes flash.

“Is that what you think?!” he almost growled and took two long strides over to me and pushed me up against the front door, leaving me breathless, staring into his face. His eyes seemed to be conveying something I couldn’t quite distinguish. Almost anger, but I wasn’t sure.

“It’s what you said,” I whispered in reply.

He closed his eyes, clenched his jaw, and leaned his forehead against mine.

“I was trying to say that you’re better than them. That you’re different in a good way,” he breathed, so quietly that I had to push my face closer just to hear him, but this action also caused me to be within a millimetre of his mouth. I could feel his hot breath against my face, and I stared at his perfect red lips, so close to mine, then peeked up at his eyes, only to find them open and watching me.

He slowly slid his hands up my arms, making me shiver, and cupped my face firmly.

“I don’t give a shit that you’re a total bitch to me, I don’t give a shit that it’s like three in the morning, and I certainly don’t give a shit if this isn’t what you want,” he growled, took one last look at my mouth and then roughly pressed his lips against mine. They were warm, and firm as I melted into his embrace, moving my lips with his. He groaned into my mouth and licked my bottom lip, and I granted him entrance, parting my lips slowly as our lips moved gently against each other.

“Suranne! Honey, is that you?” Aunt Clacy called from behind the front door and Kane pulled away abruptly, both of us gasping for air.

“Christ,” I breathed, my mind going into a silent frenzy at the feel of Kane’s lips against mine.

“Umm, yeah . . . i—it’s me, just give me a minute,” I stammered weakly, as Kane pulled back a step with a grin on his face.

He winked at me and chuckled before coming closer and kissing my forehead.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he murmured gently, before walking back to his car, pulling out of the driveway and disappearing all together.

I walked back inside, and waved off my aunt’s questioning glare, my smile growing wider with every step I took toward my bedroom.

I smiled to myself and shook my head as I sat down on the edge of my bed.

Some talk that was.