Risking It All (6 page)

“Brooks,” she moaned, “please, use your teeth.”

He released her nipple from his mouth and blew on it, his warm breath making her skin tingle as it cooled on her breast, causing her to shiver, and her nipple hardened even more. He ignored her request and dropped his hands back to her hips, making her groan.

Her frustration was quickly forgotten as Brooks lifted his hips, driving into her a little harder. Kennedy leaned forward, bringing her legs back until her knees rested on the tub’s bottom. She moved on top of him faster, riding him harder even as he tried to control her movements.

“Kennedy,” he rasped, “if you don’t slow down—”

“I don’t want slow.” She squeezed her thighs tighter around his hips and rocked even harder. She brought her lips to his ear and whispered, “I want you to
fuck
me, to make me scream. I want to feel you pounding into me, over and over again. I want rough and hard and fast, Brooks.”

Brooks squeezed her hips, groaning from her words. She knew it turned him on when she talked dirty to him, but they were just words. What she said was only a fantasy; one she knew would never happen.
Fucking
wasn’t in his nature.

But the thought of him finally losing control and taking her the way she craved was enough to push Kennedy over the edge, and she cried out against his neck as she came. She felt him stiffen against her and mutter her name before relaxing his body against the back of the tub.

Kennedy kissed his neck, along his jaw and finally his lips. Brooks wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer to his chest, placing a soft kiss on her temple. They stayed wrapped in each other’s arms until the water grew cold, forcing them to retreat to the warmth of Kennedy’s bed.

Kennedy fell asleep in his arms, content. But when she woke hours later and reached for Brooks’s side of the bed, she had to fight back tears as she realized she was once again alone.

Chapter 3

Kennedy grabbed the door handle to
Strokes of Passion
, pausing to take a deep breath before entering the art gallery.

    Today was the day. Today everyone Ryder Hennessy deemed important enough would see her work.
Her
work. There would be no other paintings to distract the eyes of the other dealers and buyers; they would only be drawn to what she had on display. Everyone who attended tonight would only see what her imagination and hands had created.

Today was all about her.

 If she hadn’t been holding onto the door she probably would have fallen over. Suddenly anxious, Kennedy started shaking so bad she was surprised the door wasn’t vibrating. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she couldn’t breathe.

She had no idea what she was thinking when she thought she could play with the big boys. Sure, she had done fairly well the last three years, but well enough to earn her own show? What if no one came tonight? Worse yet, what if the room was full and no one thought she was any good?

Maybe the show was a mistake. Maybe it wasn’t too late to talk Ryder out of it, cancel tonight, and just quietly sell her paintings like she had been doing all along. She didn’t need to be in the spotlight to be an artist. She didn’t need everyone to know her name in order to do what she loved. She didn’t need to see people fawn over her work.

No, she didn’t
need
it, but damn, she wanted it.

Kennedy inhaled deeply through her nose and closed her eyes, willing her heart rate to slow and her stomach to unknot.

It was going to be fine. Everything was going to be fine. She would have Brooks and Memphis with her tonight, and her parents—although they hadn’t been very supportive. But it didn’t matter as long as the two most important people in her life were standing by her side.

Kennedy started to breathe a little easier and her stomach stopped rolling. She wasn’t going to throw away all her hard work because of a case of cold feet. She deserved this, and by God, she was going to have it.

She gave herself a firm nod and opened her eyes . . . only to stare right into the amused face of Ryder Hennessey.

He cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head at her, asking without words what the hell she was doing. Kennedy forced a smile and gave him a small shrug. Ryder crooked his finger at her, coaxing her inside.

Pulling open the door, Kennedy stepped inside the art gallery and swallowed back the last of her doubt.

“Good morning, Ryder,” she greeted him.

“Kennedy.” His amused smile stayed firmly in place. “Giving yourself a little pep talk?”

She frowned. “Self-doubt seems to be setting in.”

Ryder’s amused smile slipped and his mouth tightened. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her to the back showroom.

“Let me show you something,” he said.

“No, Ryder.” She ducked from under his arm. “I don’t want to see it yet.”

“You need to see it, Kennedy,” he told her, grabbing her hand and pulling her forward. “You need this.”

Kennedy squeezed her eyes shut as Ryder pulled her onto the showroom. He chuckled once they came to a stop and brushed his finger down her cheek.

“Open your eyes, Kennedy.” 

She shook her head. “I told you I didn’t want to see it until it was all set up tonight.”

“It’s all done.” He tapped her chin softly. “Open your eyes,
chére
,” he said again.

Kennedy peeked through her lashes at him, and he laughed again.

“All the way.”

Letting out a huff of annoyance, Kennedy opened her eyes and stared into Ryder’s eyes.

“Don’t look at me,” he instructed, stepping aside to stand behind her. “Look at what you’ve done,” he whispered into her ear.

Kennedy held her breath as her eyes roamed the room. All her work was surrounding her. All the pieces she had put her heart and soul into were creatively placed around the room. Lights shone on a few, highlighting them in a way that made the colors jump out at her. 

Her eyes fell on the sculpture in the middle of the room. She slowly walked over to it and carefully ran her fingers over the statue. It was a pair of hands—one a man’s, the other a woman’s—cradling a small baby. It was one of the first clay pieces she had done that really meant something to her.

Tears began to sting her eyes as she touched the sculpture, remembering the reason behind its creation.

“How did you get this?” she asked in a raspy voice. “This isn’t for sale.”

“I know,
chére
,” he said, walking to her side. “I hope you don’t mind that it’s here, though. I wanted to show something other than the paintings.”

“How did you get this?” she asked again.

“Memphis.” Kennedy looked at him, and he smiled at her. “I can tell it means a lot to you, Kennedy. If you want me to remove it, I will. But it’s a beautiful piece, and it shows that you can work with more than just paint.”

“Did he . . . ?” He voice cracked and she swallowed over the lump. “Did he tell you . . . ?” She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, unable to finish asking the question.

“No.” He shook his head. “He didn’t tell me anything about it.”

Kennedy nodded, keeping her head down.

“Why did you ask Memphis and not me?”

“I didn’t ask Memphis. He brought it to me.”

Kennedy’s head snapped up.

“Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know.” Ryder reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Hey, I’ll take it away. I can see how personal it is for you.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Leave it. I love it.” She wiped away the stray tear that rolled down her cheek. “But it’s not for sale.”

“I understand.” He gave her hand another squeeze and then turned her attention to another painting.

As Ryder explained his reasoning for placing certain pictures where he did, Kennedy looked back once more at the small statue in the middle of the room. Memphis had some explaining to do, and it was more important to her than ever that Brooks be there tonight.

~*~

Kennedy was putting her gold hoop earring on when she heard the apartment door open. She peeked out of the bedroom door and saw Memphis striding down the short hallway.

“Hey, beautiful.”

“Hey.” She forced a smile and turned away, pretending to fiddle with her earring some more.

Memphis stepped into the room and she met his gaze in the mirror.

“You thought I was Brooks,” he said, his lips set in a grim line. She shrugged. “Where is he?”

“Still at work, I guess.” She dropped her eyes to the dresser and picked through her jewelry box for a necklace. “He’ll meet me there.”

Memphis grunted and shoved his hands in his pants pockets. Kennedy raised her eyes again to his and glared.

“What?”

“You gave Ryder the baby sculpture.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Kennedy spun around and faced him. “You hand over something like that and all you can say is ‘oh’? That wasn’t yours to give to him, Memphis!” she yelled.

“It wasn’t like that,” he said, taking a step closer to her. “Remember when you asked me to bring those paintings out of storage?”

She nodded.

“When I went to pick them up, there was a box with them, and I assumed you wanted it to go with the paintings. I didn’t check the box to see what was inside, and when I got to the gallery Ryder opened it and found the sculpture.”

“So you didn’t intentionally give it to him?”

“No, Kennedy. I thought the box was supposed to go with the paintings. If I had known what was in there, I wouldn’t have taken it.” He sighed and reached for her, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. “I was going to bring it back, but he liked it, and I figured if you didn’t want it to be shown you’d say something to him yourself.”

“He made it sound like you brought it to him on purpose,” she mumbled.

“I wouldn’t have done that.” He pulled her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her. “Did you let him keep it?”

Kennedy nodded, brushing her cheek against the soft material of his shirt.

“Yes. It’s only for show, though.”

Memphis kissed the top of her head and pushed her away from him. “Good. People need to see all of your beautiful art. Finish getting ready and let’s go.”

Twenty minutes later they were parking Kennedy’s car in the private lot behind the gallery. Memphis cut the engine and looked over at her.

“You’re going to be great, you. You know that, right?”

Kennedy gave him an unsure smile and nodded. She glanced around the parking lot, trying to find Brooks’s car, but it wasn’t there yet. Her heart sank knowing she would go in there and he wouldn’t be waiting for her.

“Hey.” Memphis reached for her hand and locked their fingers together. “What’s wrong? You look like you’re about to burst into tears.”

“Just nervous, I guess.” She brought their linked fingers to her lips and kissed the back of his hand. “Thank you for coming tonight.”

“As if I would miss this.” He grinned at her and leaned over the center console to place a kiss on her cheek. “I mean it. This is going to be a huge success.
You’re
going to be a huge success.”

Memphis squeezed her hand before jumping out of the SUV and hurrying to her side to open the door. Carefully, Kennedy hiked up the black, floor-length dress and untangled herself from the front seat. She held the dress up so it wouldn’t touch the ground as they made their way to the gallery’s front entrance. Memphis placed his hand on the exposed part of her back where the dress dipped low and open, making her shiver from the warmth of his touch.

“Are you cold?” he asked, eyeing her when he felt her body shudder.

She should be, she realized. She’d forgotten to grab her wrap, and the air was chilly enough to make goose bumps rise on her arms, but she was, in fact, very warm.

“No. Definitely not.” She looked down, avoiding his eyes, and cleared her throat to change the subject. “Save me from my parents?” 

Memphis laughed as he opened the door.

“Always.”

Kennedy looked up and met his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Here goes nothing,” she muttered.

“Here goes everything,” he corrected.

Kennedy stepped into the gallery with Memphis close behind her, his hand still on the small of her back. She spotted Ryder talking to a small group of people near the front desk, and as soon as he saw her, he waved her over.

“Ladies, gentlemen,” Ryder said, smiling at the group and then at Kennedy. “Our guest of honor has arrived.”

Kennedy extended her hand to everyone as introductions were made. She peeked at Memphis and noticed he had backed up to give her room, but was still close, watching her with a smile on his face.

When Ryder announced it was time to start the show, Kennedy looked around the room, scanning the faces in the crowd in search of Brooks.

“I haven’t seen your parents yet. Have you?” Memphis asked as he took her hand and led her to the back showroom.

“No.”

“Or Brooks,” he pointed out.

“Or Brooks.” She looked over her shoulder once more to the gallery’s entrance.

Ryder stood in front of the closed doors and turned to the crowd.

“My friends, I give to you the K.M. Collection.”

“This is it. You did it,” Memphis whispered in her ear as people brushed past them and into the room.

She saw many were instantly drawn to the sculpture, and as she watched people surround it, whispering to one another, her chest tightened and tears stung her eyes that Brooks wasn’t there.

“Kennedy?” Memphis asked, turning her to face him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She ducked her head so he wouldn’t see her tears. “It’s just—”

A tap on her shoulder made her turn to find her parents standing behind her. Her mother gave her a small smile, while her father just nodded his greeting.

“Hello, dear.” Hope Monroe greeted her daughter with a peck on her cheek. “I have to admit I’m surprised and impressed with what you’ve done, Kennedy.”

“Thanks, I think.” She looked back at Memphis. “Mom, Dad, you remember Memphis, right?”

“Of course.” Her mother gave him the same restrained smile. “Memphis, how have you been?”