Rock My Christmas (FlameSmith in Love Book 1) (14 page)

Chapter Twenty

One final time, to last her a lifetime, Kendel wanted him atop her. Around her. Inside her.

She pushed his blazer off his shoulders and averted her gaze from the asking in his eyes. He had a way of pulling her heart out of her chest and putting it next to his own.

“Say there’s a chance,” he said, letting his jacket fall to the floor behind him.

“Kiss me.”

Tilting her face, she welcomed his lips on hers. The invasion of his tongue. Tension in his body and urgency in his kiss spoke of a desperation she shared.

He stripped from his shirt, never breaking from the kiss, then walked her backward to the bed. As she scooted onto her covers, he swiped her suitcase to the floor where it landed with a thud.

Unfastening his slacks, he held her gaze with storm-blackened eyes. “Don’t humiliate me by making me beg.”

“I don’t want you to beg.” It wouldn’t do him any good. Besides, she admired his strength and will. She never wanted to see him brought low, and especially not by her.

His pants dropped, and he stepped out of them. The bulge in his white boxer briefs had her pulse pounding through her crease in anticipation. As though he were metal and she a magnet, she felt a physical pull deep in her belly, demanding they come together.

She went to her knees and took hold of his waistband. His erection, heavy and hot, sprang free and rested against her hand. The thought of never touching him after today made her bold, and she licked the salty drop of dew from his tip.

“Oh, God, Kendel,” he said, his voice nearly unrecognizable in its raspy rumble as his words melted into a groan.

Empowered by this pleasure she gave, she took his engorged head in her mouth and sucked while pushing his underwear down his lean hips.

“No teeth,” he said softly.

When she glanced up and found him watching her with raw hunger in his taut features, a surge of sexual heat arced through her.

She wet his length on her tongue, tasting his unique flavor and smooth texture, then grasped his firm ass and took him as far into her mouth as she could fit.

He groaned, a deep, guttural, sensual sound that increased her excitement and hardened her nipples. Careful not to graze him with her teeth, she closed on him, surrounding him completely in her mouth.

His fingers went into her hair while she slowly withdrew, drawing deeply upon his flesh. He inhaled loudly. Her folds throbbed almost painfully now, and a drop of her juices escaped her panties and trickled along her inner thigh.

Encasing him, she rode his length, learning how to relax her gag reflex and accommodate him deeper. When his tip touched the back of her throat, her eyes began to water and she swallowed.

“Yes! Christ, woman!” His fingers curled.

Her folds actually ached with need. She’d never been so turned on. When she slid a hand between his legs and cupped his cool, coarsely-haired testicles, he cried out.

“No, baby. Fuck, you’re going to make me come.” He pulled free, his glistening member pinkish purple and bigger than ever. “I need to be inside you.”

He finished removing his briefs then rolled on a condom. Reaching behind, she unfastened her bra. He placed a knee on the bed, hooked a finger in the twist of fabric that connected the two cups, and pulled it off of her.

His gaze went to her soaked panties. “You’d better take those off or, so help me, I’ll tear them from you.”

She sank teeth into her bottom lip to hide her smile. She adored him this way. Demanding. Virile. Sexually aggressive.

She lifted her hips and slid her panties to her knees. Bringing a leg up, she caught the elastic on her toe and flung them over the edge of the bed. She spread her legs.

He entered her on one slow thrust, filling and stretching her. “You’re so wet.”

They gasped on a collective breath, their eyes locked. When he seated, their pelvises kissing, he stroked the backs of his fingers down her cheek then cupped the side of her neck.

Tremendous affection shone from his gaze. “Don’t you know what you do to me, gorgeous? I never thought I’d feel this way about somebody. Never thought I could.”

“Please,” she whispered, needing him not to declare his devotion while at the same time feverishly needing him to move inside her. “Take me to heaven.”

“Love me, Kendel.”

Her heart shuddered, and her breath caught on a terrible, overwhelming jolt of sorrow. She whispered, “I do. I do love you, Burn.”

His eyes went liquid as he began to stroke out then in. She focused on the building pleasure, letting it overpower her sadness. Pressing her mouth to his, she closed her lids and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders.

Even with him inside of her, she couldn’t get enough. She’d never wanted anything or anyone like she did him. It consumed her in its fire, flaming her blood and setting her brain ablaze.

He took her higher and deeper into ecstasy than she thought possible. When she came, orgasm gripped her so tightly that she screamed on silence.

Then he was holding her, combing his fingers through her hair and placing a sweet kiss to her forehead. She hugged him, wishing he lived a different life. Wishing he wanted a different future. She loved him enough not to ask it of him, though.

He’d never lied to her. Not once. Not about anything. If she asked him to leave the band and his music, he would. He’d lie about being happy. He’d be
living
a lie.

She inhaled his fragrance, that intoxicating scent of something uniquely Burn underlying and mingling with his faint cologne, and she tried to memorize it. The feel of his hard body. The sound of his heart beat and steady breathing.

She would miss his brutal honesty. The way he looked at her as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world. The security only his arms around her afforded.

They slept the afternoon into evening then made a meal from party leftovers she’d stored in the refrigerator. Later, they made love as if they had an eternity. Neither said a word. Their touch said it all.

*    *    *

Bright daylight filled Kendel’s bedroom doorway from the bank of windows beyond, and Burn blocked his sleep-sensitive eyes from its glare. Patting the bed in search of her, he ignored his full bladder. He needed to hold her, kiss her, more than he needed relief.

When his hand met only bed, he cracked open one eye and rolled. Empty.

Squinting, he sat. “Kendel?”

Both closets stood open and vacant. The dresser surface was bare, and her laptop case no longer sat under her chair. Her voice reached him, quiet and unclear, so he scrambled from bed and hurried to the living room.

She stood near the front door, her phone to her ear. “I’ll be right down. Thank you.”

“Don’t do this,” he said, his chest splitting in two and making it hard to breathe.

She removed her laptop case from her shoulder and set it between her two full-sized suitcases. “Don’t beg, Burn.”

“You were going to leave without saying goodbye? Why would you do that?”

Tears pooled at her bottom lids. “I know it sounds cowardly, but you asked me not to make you beg. I was trying to spare you.”

“Spare me?” He released a scoffing cough of disbelief. “You said you love me.”

A crocodile tear rolled free and straight down her cheek. “I do. Please understand, Burn. This feels magical and powerful right now, but we’ll only make each other miserable.”

“What are you talking about?” Was he dreaming a nightmare?

Her phone rang.

“Yes?” She cut him a tentative glance. “Thank you. I’m on my way.” Putting her phone in the front pocket of her purple carry-on, she said, “My taxi is here. I have to go. One day you’ll meet your soul mate, the woman who loves and wants you
and
your life. You’ll be glad I freed you. Trust me.”

Her last two words ripped through him as if she’d plucked the samurai sword off of his forearm and cleaved him in half. Tears streamed unchecked down her face now. They didn’t slow her, though, as she slung her laptop onto her shoulder then stacked her carry-on atop one of the larger suitcases.

“You dare tell me to trust you? As you rip out my heart and trample it on the way out my door?” His eyes began to ache, and his stomach burned.

She opened the door and rolled her luggage to the hall. Facing him, she turned tragic eyes on him as her throat worked against the convulsions of her sobs. “Let’s not pretend, Burn. Never once did you say you loved me. And I’m glad. I’m glad you never lied to me.”

The door closed, and he stared, stunned and wrecked, at where she’d stood. He shook violently. He hadn’t declared his love? How had he failed to communicate to the only woman he could honestly say he’d ever loved how much he cherished her?

“I’m a gagging fool.”

He had to go after her. Somehow convince her to stay. Convince her of his devotion and love. Unfortunately, his bladder chose that exact moment to reach its limit. He ran to his room and emptied it in his own bathroom then pulled on a pair of loose shorts and raced after her.

The moment he exited the lift into the lobby, however, he realized he’d taken too long. He only caught a glimpse of the taxi’s rear bumper cornering from the gate to the street.

He went to the doorman’s desk. “Did she say where she was going?”

“No, Mr. Shatterly. Miss Price didn’t leave any forwarding information.”

Damn. Shit. Damn.

In the lift, he braced his hands on the car’s wall and sank his chin to his chest. Had she gotten another job? Perhaps with another band? An actor or actress?

No way. They’d been back from Korea two days, one of which was Christmas. Who would hire right now?

He stepped off the lift and abruptly halted. He’d forgotten the door key. “Fuck!”

Chapter Twenty-One

Kendel sat at her brother’s kitchen table and buckled under her sorrow for the second time that day. Planting her elbows on the table’s Formica surface, she cried into her hands and tried to will her heart to stop hurting.

“What’s going on?”

She startled as John strolled in and leaned a black duffle upright against the wall. “You’re supposed to be on the platform for another two weeks.”

“Drill tip shredded. Can’t get replacement parts until after New Year. What’re you doing here? I thought you were in California.” He settled into the metal and plastic chair next to hers.

“Didn’t work out.”

He wiped tears off of her cheek then handed her a cheap paper napkin from a stack at the table’s center. “So you’re balling because you got fired? That’s not like you. You never cry. Believe me, Terry and I tried to make you cry a lot when we were kids. You never would.”

Shaking her head, she dabbed at her cheeks. “I wasn’t fired. I quit.”

He laughed, but it died on his lips in seconds. “Sorry. I thought you were joking. You never quit anything. Ever.”

“It’s complicated.” She sniffled, but sadness hit her like an ocean wave, and she tumbled in the undertow of it, losing her battle against more tears.

“Geez, Kendel. What happened?”

She inhaled a shaky breath into weak lungs. “I lost my heart to the wrong guy.”

“Aw, shit.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Give me his name. It’s been ages since I’ve gotten arrested. I guess I’m about due.”

“No. I don’t want you to hurt him.”

He stood and began to pace. “He was charming? Made you fall in love with him? Then what? Did he get bored with you? Leave you for another woman? He must’ve been something else. You were only there a week. I’m going to pound the asshole.”

“It wasn’t like that.” She took a dry napkin and wiped her face. “I left him. He asked me not to go, but I couldn’t see a future with him, John.”

*    *    *

A baggie of cocaine burned a hole in Burn’s pocket nearly as hot and huge as the one Kendel left in his chest when she’d ripped out his heart. Part of him screamed and railed, warning him not to start down this path that nearly destroyed him. That would land him in rehab like V, if it didn’t kill him this time.

A louder part begged him to end the pain Kendel’s leaving had caused, even if only for the length of a high. He’d tried drinking it away, but it barely dulled the pain.

A woman staggered into him then giggled, and as he made a third attempt to get his door key into its slot, he frowned at her. When had he met this girl, and why had she come home with him? She looked like a model.

Not looking had actually helped his hand get the key to work, and he opened the door. He stumbled in, not aided by the model hanging on him.

Their maid, a tiny woman in a gray uniform, came around the corner from the bedrooms with an armload of Kendel’s bedding. She cast the woman a tight-lipped, disapproving glance then put her head down and passed by, headed for the laundry next to the kitchen. She’d thoroughly cleaned away any sign of the Christmas party.

“You should go,” he told her, not wanting the maid to see him snort…or anything that may follow.

“Yes, Mr. Shatterly. Two packages arrived. I put them in the kitchen. I tried to tell the doorman that the one with a woman’s name came to you by mistake, but he said you would know what to do with it.”

The model swayed then reached into his pocket and took the baggie before going and plopping unsteadily on the sofa.

“Thank you,” he said to the maid. “I’ll get it sorted.”

He went to his room, intending to change from his button-down into a T-shirt, but his lions stopped him where he stood. Kendel had been so casual about his collection. So accepting. Even after she came in here and discovered the extent to which he’d expanded it over the years.

He suspected one of the packages waiting in the kitchen contained his newest acquisition along with the book he’d bought her. He couldn’t get excited about his Korean lion. The moment he took it from its wrapping, he would want to show it to her. He’d want to study her face when he handed her the book.

He turned, trying to remember why he’d come into his room. Why was his bedroom spinning? Oh, that’s right. He’d stopped at a pub for a sandwich and gotten pissed on rum. Wasn’t there a girl who’d gotten in the cab with him? Shit. The model in the living room. With his coke.

A sob convulsed his chest inward, and he clamped a hand over his mouth to prevent it from escaping. Kendel had turned him into a bloody girl. He had something he could do about it. He’d go tear open that shipping box and toss her book into the rubbish bin.

“Burn!” Dan called, anger ringing in his voice.

A woman squealed, and Burn pivoted on his heel. He wobbled, caught a steadying hand on the bedroom doorframe then strode into the living room while the floor tipped like a ship at sea.

He careened off the wall and nearly collided with Dan’s blonde. His flat mate had the model by one skinny arm and practically threw her from the condo before slamming the door.

“Hey! That was uncalled for,” Burn accused.

“Why?” His friend’s eyebrows lowered then attempted to meet above the bridge of his nose. “Who was she?”

“No earthly idea,” he said, waving a dismissive hand.

“You stink,” said Dan’s girl, drafting a tanned hand before her pert nose.

“Yeh, well—” Burn couldn’t think of a single reply. He ducked his nose inside the collar of his shirt and sniffed. “Shit. I smell like puke. Odd. I don’t remember honking.”

“Are you done with this piss up, or have you more drinking to do?”

Burn blinked. “Dunno yet. Haven’t decided.”

“Two in the bleeding afternoon and you’re already far gone on the piss.” His friend moved toward the coffee table and pointed at four neat rows of blow. One appeared partial, and a shortened coffee stirrer lay at an angel to it. “You’re back taking drugs? Have you had a hit yet today?”

“Horses for courses, Dan the Man.” Burn crossed his arms over his chest and silently challenged his flat mate to hit him.

“Kendel!” his friend roared, glancing toward the back of the condo. When she didn’t come, he asked, “Where the hell is she? Did you send her on an errand so you could fuck yourself up? She won’t put up with this shit.”

“She’s gone!” Burn bellowed so hard he half expected his esophagus to turn inside out. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Damn it! He would
not
cry. “Fucking dodgy women.”

“Gone where?” Dan’s voice came soft and questioning as he stepped from the seating area.

“How the hell should I know? She couldn’t even bother to leave a forwarding address, apparently.” He staggered to the coffee table and sent the cocaine into a cloud with a single irate swipe. “Look what she’s brought me to. God damn it!”

Dan’s girl came from the kitchen. He hadn’t noticed she’d left the room. He was worse pissed than he realized.

“Here,” she said, urging him to sit then placing a wet cloth on his face.

Bracing, jarring iciness pierced his skin like needles, and his heart jolted painfully. “Fuck! Are you trying to kill me?”

“Trust me, it—”

“Oh, my God, I’m going to fucking kill you!”

Dan backhanded him upside the head. “Cease. Good Lord, man.”

He gasped, his ear ringing and his stomach roiling. “Shit, Dan. She told me to trust her.”

“So?” she asked, pressing the iced cloth on his face.

He inhaled sharply, instantly sobering by a lot. “So I don’t ever want to hear those words from a woman’s lips for as long as I live.”

She took the cloth, dropping it to the table, and handed him a cup of coffee. “I made this for you. It’ll help.”

He took a sip. “I’ve managed to run off another assistant.”

“Splendid,” said his friend, sitting next to his girl. “Well done. Would you please tell me what’s going on?”

Burn slowly shook his head and tried to will away the need to weep. The effort placed a burning pressure behind his eyes. “I am officially the most pathetic, naff wanker to walk the face of Earth. I mean, seriously, this takes the biscuit. I fell in love with her.”

“With who?”

“Kendel, you daft idjit. I’ve been falling since the second she walked in here, and I was too full of myself to realize it.”

“Nice one,” Dan said, his voice thick with sarcasm.

Burn smirked. “Yes. Over here, we have Mr. Nasty Shatterly who hates the world and everyone in it. Inside, however, in the classic variety, we have this nerdy bloke who has always been a bit of a mug when it comes to pretty ladies. I can never seem to entirely murder him, and he rises up every time to bung me into some babe’s arms when I least suspect his motives.”

“And you’re saying this happened with Kendel?” His friend’s eyebrows crooked into an incredulous squiggle.

He nodded. “After you two left following the Christmas party.”

“I don’t see you two together. She’s too intelligent.”

“Get stuffed.”

“Yeh?” Dan leaned forward. “Naff off, Burn, you self-absorbed asshole.”

“Guys. Guys.” The blonde put an arm across his flat mate’s chest, urging him to sit back. “Maybe you could tell us what actually happened?”

He planted his elbows on his knees then rested his head onto his fingertips. He wanted to wipe a fingertip through the dusting atop the table and rub the coca onto his gums. Instead, he used the wet cloth to obliterate it.

Both his friend and the blonde waited, expectant but not judging. Maybe the time had come to learn her name. No. Knowing Dan, she only had another week at most before the bass player moved on.

He sighed. He gave them the basics without going into detail, and finally said, “It wasn’t until she was walking out the door that I could admit I loved her. But, you see, I’d never said the words. Then she had gone and I was, well, basically snookered.”

“Have you tried calling her?” asked the blonde.

“For two days straight. Calls. Texts. My emails have been coming back saying they can’t be delivered. I’m the worst excuse for a rock star. No coolness here. Only a pile of desperate loser am I.”

The tear he’d fought so hard to prevent escaped.