Tempting Page 7

  I want someone to love me, all of me.

  Or at least see all of me.

  I do a good job keeping up appearances, convincing everyone I have my act together, that everything is okay.

  And, mostly, everything is okay. I'm not having an episode. I'm not struggling to drag myself out of bed. I'm not thinking about hurting myself.

  I am not happy, not exactly, but I'm okay.

  I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. It's still dotted with plastic stars. They're Brendon's. This used to be his room.

  They suit him. Specks of brightness that only come out in the dark. That only reveal themselves to people who are patient enough to wait until the lights are off.

  I let myself drift into a half sleep and wake to Emma walking through the open door.

  She sits on the bed next to me and tugs at the sheets. "I hope you're not naked under there."

  "Would you actually care?"

  Emma laughs the way she always does, with her entire body. "No. Of course not. I don't want you embarrassed all night. Not with the plans I have for us."

  I groan. "Everything hurts."

  "Everything? Even your pinkie?"

  I nod.

  "How about your ass?"

  "What?"

  She lies on her side, next to me. "Don't worry. I'm planning an epic housewarming party for you. But not tonight."

  My exhale is heavier than I mean it to be.

  Which only makes Em laugh. "It's at the shop. We'll have snacks. Well, in the lobby. Ryan and Brendon were very clear about their no food near the chairs policy."

  "You talked to Ryan to make this happen?"

  "That's how much I love you." She props herself up on one elbow. "I didn't invite anyone else, but I can. If you want."

  No. I don't want. "That's plenty of party." It's small enough, and filled with enough people I like, that I might enjoy it without three shots.

  Emma's expression gets sincere. "You can tell me if you hate the idea."

  "No. It's sweet. I'm just—"

  "Don't worry. Tonight's plans only require your ass." She doesn't give me a chance to agree. She pushes off the bed and offers her hands.

  I take them and let her pull me to my feet. "I didn't know you liked me that way."

  "In your dreams." She takes a step backward. "Disney marathon."

  My ears perk. My eyes too. I nod, yes.

  Emma laughs. "See. I know how to make you happy."

  "You do."

  "We just need pancakes—"

  "Chocolate chip?" I ask.

  She nods. "And tea. I'll make them. So long as you measure the chocolate chips."

  "You're too good to me."

  "I know."

  The TV screen flickers, casting light over me and Emma. Hercules is kicking ass and taking names. Same as always.

  Is there a Disney movie I don't know like the back of my hand?

  I might have a problem. Though, it's not really my problem. It's our problem.

  Right now, I don't care.

  My stomach is full of pancakes. My brain is buzzing from the mix of sugar and tea. Everything is good.

  I want more.

  Even if it's a bad idea.

  I push off the couch and turn to Emma. "You want more coffee?"

  She raises a brow. "You planning on starting a novel tonight?"

  I laugh, but I don't quite sell it. One day... Maybe... in a million years.

  "You know I can go all night, babe." She winks at me. "I'll take some chocolate."

  "Your wish is my command."

  "Different movie."

  "You want to watch it next?"

  "Is Brendon moody and annoying?"

  "Well... Not to me. Not usually."

  Emma rolls her eyes. "I don't know what you see in him."

  "He's your brother." When that fails to get a reaction, I press on. "He let me move here. He bought me a room full of furniture."

  "I thought we agreed to stop talking about that."

  We did. I couldn't take anymore of Emma getting mad on my behalf. "He's hot, Em. Even you can see that."

  "I guess it runs in the family."

  I laugh. "Humble as always."

  I move into the kitchen before she can press the subject further. There's way, way too much I see in Brendon.

  His eyes.

  His smile—the rare times I get it.

  That protective stare.

  Those strong shoulders.

  The tattoo spreading over his chest.

  The other going down his arm.

  That look he gives me when I'm sitting on the couch, when he asks if I'm reading something good.

  Just... everything.

  I let my head fill with thoughts as I make another cup of vanilla black, stir in enough honey for the drink to taste sweet, grab enough chocolate for both of us. Enough for my thoughts to turn to the bliss of the cocoa bean instead of the bliss of Brendon.

  God, I have it bad.

  There's no getting over him. Not with those drawings of his in my mind. Not with the way his eyes lit up when I mentioned dirty demands.

  He wants me too.

  How will I ever think about another guy?

  I move back to the couch, hand over Emma's chocolate, settle in.

  We get lost in the flow of the movie-talk about nothing combination. It's familiar. Comforting.

  It feels like this is a normal lazy summer day. One where I'm sleeping over because I want to, not because my parents bailed on me. One where I look at Brendan as Emma's hot older brother, a guy so far out of my league we're playing different games. One where Grandma is okay.

  Everything else feels far away. It's just me and my best friend in our own world. I'm not alone. I'm not medicated. I'm not aware Brendon's sketchbook is full of dirty drawings of me.

  I'm just home. Safe. Happy.

  "Hey." Brendon's voice flows into my ears. He moves into the hallway. Then down the stairs.

  He's wet. Fresh from the shower. Wrapped only in a towel.

  I... he... Fuck.

  There's water dripping off his dark hair. Down his chest piece—the shaded black and grey roses. It drips down his side, across The Ramones lyrics, all the way to the Latin quote jutting out from his towel. Sic Transit Gloria.

  Glory fades.

  What does it mean to him?

  What would it feel like to trace every link of ink?

  To have that warm, wet body pressed against mine?

  On top of mine?

  I'm pretty sure my jaw is on the floor.

  My cheeks are burning. I must be every shade of red.

  Emma grabs a pillow and tosses it at her brother. He moves into the main room just in time to dodge it.

  She folds her arms over her chest. "You're not wearing clothes because...?"

  "There's this thing called a shower. You use it when you want to get clean."

  "And what do you know about being clean?" She taps her fingers against her bicep. "You think the girls you throw away stay quiet about your preferences?"

  Brendon raises a brow.

  Emma looks to me and rolls her eyes. Isn't he annoying? "What are you trying to prove? We know you're sculpted out of marble. Who goes to the gym twice a day?"

  "People who are sculpted out of marble." Brendan moves into the kitchen. "Smells like pancakes."

  "You want some?" Emma asks.

  "No," he says. "I have dinner plans."

  "Oh." I press my palms into my thighs. "You and Ryan meeting to talk about the buyout?"

  "Huh?" Emma looks to me. What are you talking about?

  Brendon shakes his head. "No. I have a date."

  Chapter Twelve

  Kaylee

  Brendon has a date.

  He's seeing another human being.

  Romantically.

  I'm going to throw up.

  Emma presses her hands together. "You could make us more pancakes before you go."

  "I'm running late," he say
s.

  "Who are you dating?" Emma's voice is casual. Like this isn't the worst news in forever.

  Okay, that's not even close to true. Everything with Grandma is worse. But Brendon on a date...

  Touching some girl.

  Kissing her.

  Binding her to her bed.

  I... I'm going to throw up.

  "We're not dating." His voice is curt. Obvious. We're meeting for dinner and a fuck.

  I try to settle back into the routine of watching and laughing and teasing, my body refuses to relax.

  Nothing helps.

  Not even my dirty thoughts.

  They all go wrong. He's touching me, stripping me out of my clothes, dragging his lips over my neck.

  Then she's there.

  Some girl with big tits and pretty lips and a tight dress that screams please take this off.

  He'll fuck some girl he barely knows.

  But he won't even talk about sex with me.

  It's bullshit.

  Total bullshit.

  He moves into the kitchen. Comes out with an apple between his hands.

  Takes a bite.

  He shoots Emma a stern look. "No guys or drinks while I'm gone."

  She rolls her eyes.

  He shakes his head you're a brat, but there's concern in his eyes. "Kay. Promise. No drinks or guys."

  "I'm not Emma's keeper," I say. I don't add fuck you for this date bullshit. Fuck you for acting like it isn't a knife in my chest. And for doing it in a towel, just to add insult to injury.

  But he doesn't know I know.

  He doesn't know I'm crazy about him.

  He...

  He must have some idea. There's a connection between us. He gets me in a way no one else does.

  And he's different with me. He smiles. Laughs.

  I watch him walk away. Watch his back tense and relax. Watch that towel slip lower and lower on his hips.

  My body screams all of him now, please.

  My heart is more reluctant.

  He's going on dates.

  I... I can't deal with this. Even if it's inevitable.

  "Excuse me." I tug at my dress. "Pajamas."

  Emma nods. "He's weird, huh?"

  "Yeah. Annoying."

  "Finally, you see it my way."

  I do. I see exactly why Emma has a problem with her brother.

  He demands his way.

  But offers nothing.

  I just barely restrain myself from stomping up the stairs.

  Okay, that's bullshit. My steps are as light as they usually are. I'm still the good girl. The one who keeps things together. Who doesn't cause a scene.

  The hall is dark.

  There's light coming from Brendon's room.

  And his door is open a sliver.

  And there he is, in front of his bed.

  Turned toward the wall.

  Naked.

  It's only his back.

  His ass.

  His legs.

  Fuck.

  I've never seen a guy naked before. Not in person. Not one I wanted to see naked.

  But Brendon...

  Heat pools between my legs. I want him. Every inch of him. Every way I can have him.

  I want the sight, the sound, the taste, the smell, the feel of him.

  I want him owning every one of my senses.

  I...

  He pulls on a pair of boxers.

  Steps into his jeans.

  Turns.

  I jump out of the way just in time. I think. I hope.

  God, I hope he didn't see me gawking.

  He can't.

  That's so...

  I dart into my bedroom. Fumble out of my dress and into my pajamas.

  A tank top. Panties. Sleep shorts.

  That's it.

  I'm barely wearing anything.

  And he's there, barely wearing anything, thinking about me naked.

  About to go on a fucking date.

  I move back into the hallway. Nearly run downstairs.

  A few moments later, Brendon walks through the main room. He grabs his keys from the table and slides them into the front pocket of his skinny jeans.

  "Text me when you go to bed." He looks to Emma. "Or if you need anything."

  She nods. "I won't wait up."

  "You too, Kay. Text me if you need anything." He holds my gaze. Promise?

  I'm pretty sure I can't request him naked in my bed. So I force my lips into a smile. "I'll be fine."

  He takes that as a yes, turns, walks out the door.

  On the way to his date.

  With some girl.

  Some girl who isn't me.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Brendon

  This place is all squares—the stools, the tables, the couches, the patrons.

  Candles flicker. The soft yellow lamp in the corner offers just enough illumination to make out the menu.

  This place isn't my scene. It's hers. Upscale. Pretty. Filled with people in suits. The kind of people who gush over sauvignon blanc.

  I don't get it. Wine tastes the same to me.

  We're ten minutes into conversation, but I'm not absorbing any of it.

  I'm thinking about that look on Kay's face. Like I stabbed her in the gut.

  Anna's laugh grabs my attention.

  She turns to show off the ink on her back. "It still looks good."

  "It does."

  "That's a compliment."

  "Mine too. You designed the tattoo."

  She tilts her head to one side. "I'm not sure I buy you as humble." Her smile lights up her blue eyes. They're hard to see from under her silver makeup.

  And her lips are red. Bright red. Think about where these lips could be red.

  But I'm not thinking about ordering her onto her knees.

  I'm thinking about how Em wears her lips that color.

  I try to ignore that Emma has a sex life. She's an adult. She can do what she wants. I'm not going to tell her that sex is wrong or dirty. Not like I can talk.

  But I still prefer to not connect the dots.

  I try to shake it off. "No?"

  "No." She leans into the table enough for her breasts to press together.

  She has nice tits. They'd feel good in my hand. Or around my cock.

  "You seem like the type to brag."

  "About?"

  Her laugh is bold. Knowing. "I guess you don't have to. Not when you have a reputation."

  I try to imagine Anna in my bed. Pressing her against the wall. Rolling that dress to her waist and tearing off her bra.

  The image flickers in my head. For a second.

  Then it's Kaylee against the wall.

  My hand up her skirt.

  Those doe eyes of hers looking up at me with every ounce of trust in the world.

  This isn't how tonight is supposed to go.

  I'm supposed to smile at Anna. Return her flirty glance. Go back to her place—I only bring women home when Emma isn't around—and get her begging for release.

  But none of that appeals.

  I force myself to look back in her eyes. Force my voice to that I know you want to fuck me tone. "Do I?"

  She laughs. "Now, I'm pretty sure you're playing coy to mess with me." She wraps her fingers around the stem of her wine glass. Takes her last sip. "I got here early. Right after work."

  I nod.

  She motions to the bar. "Let me back up." She pushes her empty glass away. "How about a drink?"

  "You're buying?"

  She laughs. "Well, I did invite you out."

  "Doesn't matter."

  "You're old fashioned, really?"

  In some ways, yeah. I nod.

  "The old-fashioned tattoo artist. Hmm... I guess I can see it. Just don't tell me you have a problem with feminism. I can overlook a lot of deal breakers with someone so... well, you know you're handsome."

  I nod. "Why would I have a problem with feminism?"

  She shrugs. "A lot of guys I... date. They'r
e threatened by women with power. Or a woman who knows what she wants. Or wants to pay."

  "I always pay for a first date."

  "And the second date?"

  They're rarer. Third dates too. Fourth dates—it's been a long, long while since I've had a relationship that lasted longer than three dates. "You negotiating?"

  She laughs. "I guess so."

  There. The waitress is walking by.

  I hail her. Motion to Anna.

  She orders another glass of white wine, some specific label, and a brussel sprout salad.

  I order Jameson and sliders. Good whiskey, but not look at how much money I have showy.

  Anna leans a little closer. "I think you might have me if you tell me you're a feminist."

  "I have you already."

  Her voice lifts. "You sure about that?"

  "Yeah."

  "Not so humble, I guess."

  No. Not so humble.

  I lean forward. Stare into Anna's blue eyes. Try to find something to latch onto—something I want.

  She's hot. Smart. Funny.

  But all I can think about is Kaylee.

  Those big, green eyes.

  All the hurt in them.

  Because of me.

  Necessary hurt, yeah. She needs to know I'm not available.

  I need to know it.

  I need to convince my body and my heart that there's no way I'll ever have Kaylee in my bed.

  But, fuck, the thought of stripping her out of that sweet sundress, dragging those cotton panties to her ankles, and planting between her legs—

  "So." She stares back at me. "Are you a feminist?"

  "Who wouldn't be?"

  "You'd be surprised."

  Not really. I'm well aware of how shitty people can be. "I was punk rock when I was a teenager."

  "Yeah? Red hair?"

  "Once." I run my hand through my dark hair. "My girlfriend did it for me." It was more of a fling, but close enough. "My hair practically melted. Had to get one of those half-shaved haircuts."

  "I can't imagine that."

  I tug at my t-shirt. "Imagine this with an anarchy symbol."

  She laughs. "And now?"

  "I've lost an appreciation for chaos."

  "And your hair?"

  "I no longer strive to piss off my parents."

  She laughs. "Good. The dark hair suits you."

  "Yeah?"

  "Yeah. You've got the whole tall, dark, and handsome thing down pat."