Two cats come crashing into our legs, one at a time, purr-butting their heads against us. We both reach down, having something crazy with Velvet and Mews. Something that feels way too much like a family moment.
Later, I'm fixing our supper while she settles on a barstool with her little black book, biting her lip and scribbling away. I’m busy tossing seared strips of beef, baby snow peas, chili peppers, onions, and paprika in a sizzling pan, but I can’t stop watching her from the corner of my eye.
She’s not really writing. Her pen scratches now and then, but for the most part she’s just chewing on it, wrapping those delectable lips around the cap, sucking on it in ways that give my twitching cock some evil ideas.
Fuck me.
One taste, and I’m already addicted.
I’m also worried. Last night may have been a major fuck-up, and not just because of lying to Steve.
It’s not hard to tell she’s questioning, too, dwelling on doubts, wondering where we stand. I’m kind of glad she’s not asking, because right now I’m not sure I’d have any answers that would satisfy either of us. I don’t know what I’m doing here.
Don’t know how I went from get the fuck out of my life to can’t get you out of my head.
Maybe if she hadn’t kissed me in front of Milah, none of this would've ever happened.
If she hadn't offered me an out, a fake girlfriend story that quickly fell apart. If I hadn't taken it, and used it as an excuse to bring her back.
I’m just setting dinner on the kitchen island, slinging piles of my version of stir fry onto plates piled high with steaming beds of rice, when Kenna makes an exasperated sound and slams her little black book closed hard enough to make me jump.
“Okay,” she says. “Fine. I’ll be the one to say it.”
I arch a brow over cracking a couple of beers and setting them out next to our plates. “Do what?”
“Start the conversation. We. Uh.” She’s blushing again. I don’t know how she stays conscious with all the blood rushing to her head. “We weren’t exactly in a position to talk last night.”
I dip my gaze downward. She’s still wearing what she had on last night, grass stains subtly darkening her deep tan tank top. “I remember. I was there last night, too.”
“Stop that!” She folds her arms across her chest, but that only plumps her breasts up more, keeping my attention on them. I’m listening to what she’s saying, I swear. “Landon, what was last night?”
“Reb, c'mon. I know you’re not so innocent you don’t recognize a good fuck?”
She scowls. “Don’t be coy, Mr. Strauss.”
“Perish the thought.” I settle on a barstool across from her and rest my elbow on the table. “We had sex, Kenna. I put you under me in the grass and we fucked. You came on my dick twice. And that can mean something, or it can mean nothing at all, but I’d like it if it meant something. I'd also like it if you're in my bed tonight, legs spread, moaning real sweet for my tongue while I burn the taste of your clit into my memory. Whatever we've got, it's more than casual, so let's stop pretending.”
She smiles weakly, trying to disguise a blush. “I think that’s supposed to be my line.”
That pathetic little smile actually makes my heart ache. I reach across the countertop and brush my thumb under her chin. “Is it really so surprising I’d say it first?”
Her lashes lower. “A little. You’ve been pretty clear you hate me for years.”
“Fair. And I’ve been pretty damn confused over hating you for years.” I trace my touch up to her cheek. “Maybe what happened last night was meant to clear a lot of shit up. Like five years ago. When I was young and immature and stupid. And somehow, that incident between us with the black book got codified into the norm. Rejecting you before you could reject me for showing you the monster inside. The dirty fucking secret nobody else was ever meant to see.”
“I don’t see you like that. You're not a monster.” No matter how many times she says it, my gut twitches like it's been punched.
I want to believe her, but I can't.
Still, there's some relief when she presses her delicate cheek into my palm. “Some kind of wild beast? Maybe. But you expect animals to act like animals. That doesn’t make them evil.”
I laugh. “I’m no animal.” At her skeptical look, my laugh deepens. “Not that much of an animal.”
“You pulled my bra down with your teeth last night.”
I grin broadly. “And I’d do it again.”
“But...should we?” Her touch of amusement fades to a worried look. “Not gonna lie – I almost died of a heart attack when Steve and Melanie caught us. I thought they’d see right through it. Did we just screw ourselves?”
“Technically we screwed each oth–”
“Landon.”
“All right, all right.” I’m taking the conversation seriously. I promise. Just can’t help having a little fun after finally having things easy between us again, even if we’ve made a million other problems. “Look. Does this feel like a mistake to you? Because it doesn’t to me.”
“I don’t know,” she admits with a frankness that’s so very Reb. “It feels good. It feels like I’m in the middle of some weird teenage daydream. But that doesn’t change the fact that things could go south really fast.”
“Okay. What ways are you worried about?”
“Well, one, we get in another fight.”
“And then we talk it out like adults instead of the teenagers we’ve been acting like,” I point out. “Next.”
“Milah.” She wrinkles her nose.
I snort. “Fuck Milah. Her private life is my business. A job. My private life isn’t hers.”
That coaxes a laugh from her, eyes glittering, a touch of the tension leaving her shoulders. “Fine. Last obstacle. Steve.”
“He’s your brother. He loves you. He’s my best friend. He won’t murder me, just potentially take off a limb or two. But sooner or later, he’ll accept that we’re adults, and it’s our choice.” I smirk. “You worry too much, Reb.”
But I’m the one with pensive thoughts on my mind, as I realize I’d said sooner or later.
As if this could be something long-term.
As if one night of hot sex has already got her embedded way too deep in me.
But she’s smiling again, letting out a sigh of relief. “You’re right. I probably do. And I mean...last night was nice. I wouldn’t mind doing it again.”
“Yeah?” God, she’s got such a strong pull on me.
I can’t help pushing myself up, leaning across the island, catching her lips. I taste her deep and slow, just enough to feel her go soft against me, then draw back with one last caress of my thumb over her lower lip. This raw, primal thing inside me wants to claim her all over again.
Her eyes are smoky, dazed, dilated, and I love it. “Sounds like a deal. Now, eat, before it gets cold.”
I sink back in my seat. She settles in hers as well, picking up her fork and pushing at the stir-fry, then peeking at me shyly. “So, you’re telling Milah I’m your real girlfriend now?”
Am I? Is that what Kenna is, now?
Fuck. I don’t know. Don’t know what she is.
Don’t know how to define this, other than a ceasefire and some really hot fucking.
And I’m afraid to admit it, but I really don’t know what I’ll do if Reb gets under my skin and then winds up hating me after she sees I really am a monster, and I’m capable of things she can’t imagine.
No matter how many times we fuck, or how deep the feelings go, they won't change the past or future. I still have a killer to find, and a lot of bad blood to drain with Crown.
“I’m not telling Milah anything. It’s not Milah’s business,” I deflect, picking up my own fork. “And I don’t care about Milah, either. I’ve missed five years of your life. Catch me up on your writing, Reb. Catch me up on everything.”
That's all I want over dinner. Just her and me and a dying sunset through the glass, two dark sleepy cats flopped out near our feet.
I need tamer, innocent words.
Something to keep me warm, when the day comes that she knows me for the monster I am.
13
Not Quite Paradise (Kenna)
Velvet and Mews shouldn’t make me wonder just how good Landon might be with children.