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It’s like Mom is in my head now.
Shaking her head of course you’re into this shit, you degenerate.
Doesn’t exactly help the mood.
But the thought of bending Kaylee over my knee—
Of her wrists tied to my bed—
Her thighs against my cheeks—
“You can tell me more, Brendon. I’m not an innocent flower. I read all sorts of books. I can handle an explanation.”
Maybe she can.
But I can’t. “There’re a few good books. I’ll make a list.”
She nods, but there’s something about it.
Like she knows exactly what I’m thinking.
Like she knows how badly I want to make her mine.
Chapter Ten
Brendon
Fuck, it’s hot in here. The air conditioning never quite balances out. Downstairs is freezing. Upstairs is a sauna.
I wipe my brow with my t-shirt.
Kay is behind me. I’m not sure how I know, but I do.
She’s staring.
Of course she’s staring.
I’m practically putting myself on display.
I need to be more careful. But that’s a lost cause. This is my house. I strip. I shower. I walk around in a towel.
Making a point of being fully dressed at all times—that will make things weird.
“It’s hot, huh?” she asks.
“Yeah.” I let my t-shirt fall over my torso. Turn back to face her.
Her cheeks are flushed. It’s hot yeah, but that’s not it.
She has that look. That mmm, I want more look. I know it well. Fuck, when I bring a woman home, that look is my goal. I like having someone begging, panting, screaming for more.
“You look hot.” She presses her lips together. “I mean, flushed. Like it’s hot.”
I nod.
“How about I run to that coffee shop down the street. Cold brew for you, iced tea for me.”
“Thanks.” I need the space. And the chance to put something in my head besides damn, Kay is so considerate. She’d make the perfect girlfriend.
She will.
For someone.
One day.
I reach for my wallet to pull out a twenty, but she shakes her head.
“No way. You bought me a room full of furniture. This is on me.” She takes a step backward. “Besides, you need to start saving if you want to own a quarter of Inked Hearts.”
“Not that you’re smug about it.”
“No. Never.” She smiles. Waves. Spins on her heels and moves down the stairs.
My eyes refuse to get in line. They trace her path out the door. They fix on the way her hips sway as she walks.
I pull my t-shirt off. Toss it aside.
It’s not enough.
I’m still burning.
My thoughts are still fixed on that flush in her cheeks. On the way she looks at me. Like she wants me. And like I’m someone worth wanting as more than an easy fuck.
Nobody looks at me like that.
Like I’m worth something.
I move into my bedroom. Bright light flows into the room. It falls over the perfectly made bed and bounces off the shiny hardwood.
And off that mirror across from the bed.
The one I use to watch.
Does she realize that?
There’s no way she thinks it’s for checking out my outfit. The only time I wear something that isn’t jeans and a t-shirt is… never. Em and Kay’s graduation.
That meeting with our lawyer Friday. The one where we make this shit happen.
My head fills with other images. Kaylee and me at some fancy dinner. Her in that blue dress. Me in a suit. Staring into her eyes as I take her hand.
Fuck.
This isn’t working.
I move into the bathroom, run the water until it’s freezing, splash it over my cheeks.
It’s not enough.
I pull my cell from my pocket. Go straight to the last voicemail Mrs. Hart left. I need the reminder that I’m supposed to protect her. That she trusts me. That her entire family trusts me.
“Hey Brendon. How are you? I hope work is going well. Mike is happy to be back in New Jersey. His old team is still here, and they’re much easier to work with than the team at the Santa Monica office. And being near my mother—it’s been wonderful.”
She lets out a heavy sigh.
“You’re doing so much for us. I want to repay you, but here I am asking for more. Kaylee hasn’t been picking up my calls. I know she’s angry with us for leaving her out of the decision. And I understand. We knew she wouldn’t be happy about this or about us deciding to stay here. But we couldn’t give her the choice.”
She pauses.
“We wanted to protect her from that. She’d never choose herself over Grandma. And if she did, can you imagine the guilt she’d have over putting her future first? Sorry, I’m rambling again. I’d like anything you have. A text even. My mother is doing better. She hasn’t needed as much help. But she would love to hear from Kaylee. We’re going to fly Kaylee out in a few weeks, but we don’t want to interfere with school. If you have any suggestions for a weekend, we’d appreciate it.”
