Stripped Raw (14 page)

“Oh.”

“You want to play?” he asks, his voice low. I nod, and he runs his finger down the curve of my neck, down my arm, to my fingers, lacing his with mine. “I want you to touch me.”

My whole body quivers, and I beg, “I want to touch you.”

He releases my hand and grazes my bottom lip with his thumb. “Then I want to know what your breath, your tongue, those perfect, cherry red lips will feel like sliding over my cock.” I slowly lick my lips. “You want to know how I taste?”

“Yes,” I say, panting. “Please.” How he has me begging to give him a blowjob, I’ll never know! And I don’t care. I push him back on the bed, running my tongue down the V in his stomach. I put my fingers on his zipper as he stretches out his legs.

“Christ, I’ve missed this so much.”

My hand stops. Something about those words, so harmless, causes me to freeze. Shake it off! He didn’t mean anything. But I can’t carry on. I can’t help it. His words make me think about his ex-wife, his dating history. How long has it been for him? Was his ex-wife the last one to pleasure him like this? Or was there someone before me? I know he said he hasn’t dated anyone since his ex-wife, and that sex and dating were the same to him. But has this hot, rich guy really not had any kind of sex in almost a year? That’s not possible. It doesn’t make sense. I hate myself for the barrage of doubt with his dick just inches away, but I’d hate myself more if I didn’t get answers.

“How long has it been?” I ask.

“Too long,” he says, gripping my hair, clearly waiting for my mouth.

I take my hand off his zipper and lift up my head. “I’m serious. How long?”

He mumbles a string of curse words under his breath then scoots up in the bed. “You’re asking me this right now?” he asks, motioning down to his pants.

“I know it’s bad timing.” I pull the covers over my body. “But I don’t know much about your past, and it’s eating at me now. I’m sorry.”

“I told you there hasn’t been anyone since my ex-wife.”

“It’s just hard to believe you haven’t. . . . I mean, you’re so. . . .” I wave my hand over his body. “Women must hit on you all the time.”

“I only want one woman to want me,” he says and kisses me tenderly on the lips.

I smile as his mouth moves to my neck. “So it’s been over a year since you. . . .” I stop when his entire body tenses. “What?”

“More recent than a year.”

I nudge him off my neck. “But you said you haven’t been with anyone since your ex-wife and you’ve been divorced almost a year, so. . . .”

Kane releases a deep breath. “Haven’t you ever fallen into old habits with an ex?”

His ex-wife? Oh, hell no! I shake my head. “When I’m done, I’m done.”

“There was a brief period when we, um. . . I can’t quite explain it. It wasn’t good for either one of us. Look, I’ve missed you the past few days. Let’s please not talk about this. Can we go back to where we were like two minutes ago?”

“Are you still sleeping with her?” I press.

“Of course not!”

“And just so you know, by ‘slept’ I mean oral, fingers, toys. . . .”

“Christ, Kenzie, I haven’t slept with her since I’ve known you!” There’s an urgency in his voice, as if he’s clearly worried about all this, how it makes me feel, how it looks. “It’s been several months. I’m being honest. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Kane opens his arms to me, but I don’t lean in. I just stay beside him. I’m going to keep my guard up a little—at least for a few hours. He drops his arms, his lips in a line. Things started off so well tonight—he’d essentially said he loves me—but then it all went to hell. I stare down at my bare feet, feeling Kane studying me.

He tilts up my chin. “I don’t want things to stay like this. Can we please salvage the night?” I give him a half-shrug with a little nod. I like that he wants to try, and he’s not just leaving. “I almost forgot,” he says. “I got you a present.”

“That’s sweet,” I say. “You had time to shop between meetings?”

“Don’t get too excited. It’s from the airport. It’s in my car. Be right back.”

I take the opportunity to put on some clothes. I can’t be naked with him right now, not after hearing he’d been with his ex-wife. It doesn’t matter when or that it’s over. It happened, and I can’t get it out of my head.
Get a grip, and stop looking for reasons to run!
Kane and Lily were together a long time, and it isn’t the end of the world for ex-spouses to have one last romp in the hay—even more than one. Kane has been nothing but honest with me. It’s what I want from him. It wouldn’t be fair for me to punish him for it. I look up and see him standing in the doorway with a box.

Kane walks towards me and places it on the bed in front of me. “I didn’t have time to wrap it.”

“I can’t believe you thought to get me a present. Is it shoes?” I begin to clap excitedly. “You can always buy me shoes! Size eight.”

He chuckles. “I’ll remember that. Open it.”

I run my finger across the box, feeling my stomach churning. I remind myself the gift isn’t from Charles. It doesn’t come with strings attached. Lifting the lid, I bust out laughing. “You did not!”

Kane pulls out a Dallas Cowboys jersey and holds it up to me. “I can’t be in love with a Saints fan.”

I stop laughing and look at him in complete wonder. He said “love” again, even after I busted his balls about his ex-wife.

He places the jersey on the bed and takes my hands. “I love you, Kenzie.”

“This is the most terrible time to love me,” I say. “My life is a mess. I’m totally overwhelmed. I’ve got work issues, family issues, personal hang-ups, which you can obviously see, and. . . .”

“It’s the perfect time for me to love you,” he says.

I look away for a moment then back to Kane. He is gorgeous. He wants me. He is honest with me. He loves me. There’s nothing else I could want, and I know it. But I’m scared. I’ve been burned so many times before, by so many different men. I take a deep breath. I can’t—I won’t—let all those guys ruin what is right in front of me. It’s time for the
yes girl
to say
yes
. I mean, I have no choice, not with those royal blue eyes lapping over me.

I slip on the jersey, and it fits perfectly. “I love you, too.”

*

The sound of
water wakes me. Groaning, I throw the covers over my head. Kane is so damn chipper in the morning, up so early, already in my shower. It always takes me a little longer to embrace the day, but he wakes up ready to go. It’s his biggest fault.

The sound keeps on and on. It’s making me have to pee. If he’d shut off the shower, I’d probably be able to hold it and get back to sleep, but it’s not happening. The shower is lasting forever.

What is he doing in there that’s taking so long? He better not be jerking off in my shower! No, he wouldn’t be doing that. I throw the covers off and tighten my legs together. I can’t take it anymore. I have to get in my bathroom before I spring a leak.

I scoot out of bed and knock on the door. “Kane, are you almost done?” When he doesn’t respond, I tighten my legs a little more and remember Tessa’s words of wisdom about bathroom time. Maybe this is some kind of test for me, a test of the strength of our relationship. I’m not sure. I can’t think straight. All I know is, I need to pee. Everything else in the world is secondary.

I slowly crack open the bathroom door, a cloud of steam hitting me in the face. “Kane?”

He sticks his head out of the shower, water dripping from his hair. He looks adorable, and his sweet smile is enough to wake me up. “Yeah?”

“Are you almost done?”

“Couple minutes. Want to join me?”

“Nope,” I say, pinching my knees together and squatting down a little.

“Maybe next time,” he says and disappears behind the shower curtain.

Outside my bathroom, I dance around a little more. Kane doesn’t seem to be in a hurry at all. Should I tell him I have to pee? Why do I have to live in this crappy apartment with only one bathroom? I have no choice now; I have to go in. The threat level is red. I move inside, tiptoeing to the toilet like a stealth ninja.

I make it there undetected and pull down my panties, keeping one eye on the shower curtain, looking for any movement. I breathe deeply and start to go—gush, really. Ah! I’m somewhat relieved that the shower is probably drowning out the sound of my tinkle. I’m quite certain it would otherwise be echoing off the walls.

Still, I can’t let down my guard. I’m not even close to done, and I’m keeping a sharp eye on the shower curtain. Please stay in there, Kane! It usually feels so good, magical even, to pee first thing in the morning, but now there’s only anxiety. Mid-stream, he turns off the shower. I clench my muscles and stop the flow. Thank God for Kegel exercises.

I try to hurry, ripping off some toilet paper, but my ninja moves are not fast enough. The shower curtain flies open, and there’s nowhere to hide. So I lower my head to my hands, beet red, defeated, wishing I was anywhere else in the whole world.

Kane bends down and kisses me on top of the head. “Morning, babe.”

I slowly look up, finding Kane with only a towel around his waist, running his fingers through his hair. He looks damn good, tan with perfectly chiseled abs. Did he just kiss me? I can’t enjoy his kiss or seeing his body, not while I’m sitting here on the toilet. My stomach clenches a little, no doubt from my position and from failing to empty my bladder. Screw this. I let myself pee again.

Kane doesn’t even flinch. “Need to leave around ten for the game,” he says then looks around for his toothbrush.

Is he really talking to me right now? It appears so! I smile widely—my stepsister is pretty sharp—then take a moment to wipe up. Kane is the type of guy a girl wants to be with, the type of a guy who can handle whatever life throws at him—piss and all.

KANE

“You have to
be impressed with AT&T Stadium,” I say, handing our suite tickets to a stadium attendant. “The Cowboys play in one of the most modern stadiums. . . .”

“Don’t talk about architecture before a game,” Kenzie teases. “This is football—not an art museum. I mean, what’s with all the sculptures? The Superdome—now that’s a real football stadium.”

“I wouldn’t say that too loudly in here.”

“This team is so snobby. Who elected them America’s Team, anyway?”

“I don’t get it. You’re from Dallas. You live in Dallas. Why are you a Saints fan?”

“Drew Brees is hot!” I roll my eyes. “Plus, my mom was from New Orleans.” She sticks her finger in a small hole on the sleeve of my jersey. “How old is this?”

“I don’t know, like ten years or so,” I say. “It’s lucky.”

“I don’t see how. The Cowboys haven’t been very good this past decade. Maybe your jersey is cursed. The Saints have won a Super Bowl more recently.”

I scan up and down her killer body, her jeans hugging her curves, her jersey accentuating her cleavage. “Well, you look good in your Cowboys jersey.”

“I can’t believe I’m wearing this,” she says, pulling at it a little. “You really owe me. I feel like I need a bath—or confession.”

We head up an elevator and an escalator to the suite level, away from the hundred thousand fans seated both above and below. Don’t get me wrong, I like sitting with the crowd, feeling that energy, living and dying with each play, but it’s cool sitting in my family’s suite, too. The food, the sight lines, the drinks, they’re all good. As for the people—well, that’s a more complicated matter.

We twist through a couple narrow corridors, and a group of Cowboys fans head in our direction. Kenzie yells at them, “Who Dat!” then laughs at the evil look they flash her. She can’t be talking that way to fanatical Cowboys fans! She’s going to get us killed!

But I can’t help but smile. This beautiful, smart girl—and yes, slightly crazy, too—is having a good time. I love making her happy. This is exactly what Tessa wants, and what I need, too. This is what life’s about, what it means to love somebody—in the joy of teasing Cowboys fans and in the pain of planning a funeral. I hope Kenzie knows that’s how I feel. The traditional wedding vows had it right—you should love someone and be true to them in good times and in bad. Should’ve known Lily and I wouldn’t last when she insisted we write our own vows.

We continue towards the suite when I hear my name called out from behind. Kenzie stops in her tracks and looks up at me. “Is that Deacon?” she asks. “Please tell me that’s not him.” I look back to find my stepbrother heading towards us.

Kenzie steps slightly behind me, clearly wanting to avoid this moment, and I don’t blame her. I’m sure it sucks for her—even if my hapless stepbrother did help launch Kenzie Lingerie. But she’s got to talk to Deacon at some point. For better or worse, he’s my family.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Deacon says.

“Just got back in town,” I say.

“How’s work?” Deacon asks. “How’s Lily doing?”

Fuck! Why would he mention my ex-wife? I’m going to kill him! He’s so fucking dumb, with no filter or common sense! I glare down at him, as Kenzie steps out from behind me and stands to my side, looking up at me with her big, beautiful eyes. I wrap an arm around her waist.