Paradise in Progress

18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter eighteen

Tristan

“Let’s go home.”

Three words have never sounded so sexy. One minute, the two of us are enjoying dessert in silence, and the next, Kennedy’s lips are smashed against mine. The urge to pull her into my lap was overwhelming.

But when she uttered those words, I don’t think I’ve ever moved faster than I did right then. Setting our plates on the table, I pull her to her feet and basically drag her off the pier. I’ll thank Destiny and the chef tomorrow for the wonderful evening. And as much as I was enjoying dessert, I could think of something else I’d rather taste than carrot cake.

With her hand grasped firmly in mine, we make record time getting across the courtyard and to our building. As we wait for the elevator, I take the opportunity to push Kennedy against the wall. Trapping her arms above her head, I lift off the fedora that has been obstructing my angle all night. Our lips meet in a searing kiss as she moans into my mouth. We duel in a heated kiss, our tongues meeting as her body melts against mine. My erection presses into her middle, leaving no doubt she has me so turned on. The bell dings, and we tumble into the waiting car as it carries us to our shared space. She falls against me, and I land with my back to the wall. My hand holding her hat battles to grip her lower back while the other plunges through her hair, holding her mouth to mine.

I’ve never been so grateful to be sharing a room.

Her hands battle the buttons of my shirt as she tries to unclasp them, our mouths never disconnecting. Finally, the buttons free, and her cool hands graze my chest, pulling a hiss from the contact, and her mouth curves in a smile. With my hand still on her back, I trail it down, gripping her ass as she grinds into me, dropping her hat in the process. When she rewards me with another breathy moan, I slip it lower, pulling at the satin material of her skirt until my hand smooths beneath the slit to her thigh.

My fingers graze up her silky skin until I reach her apex. Heat radiates from her as my knuckle rubs across her wet panties.

“Fuuuuuuck,” I groan. “You’re dripping for me.”

Her body shudders. I pull the material to the side with a finger, allowing my thumb to brush against her swollen clit. Satisfaction fills me as her hips buck at the contact and she deepens the kiss. I’m about to sink two fingers inside her when the doors chime open. The ding has Kennedy forcing her back ramrod straight, and whatever spell we’ve been under this evening is immediately busted.

She pushes off my chest and storms out of the elevator without a word.

What the fuck just happened?

The doors start to close as I’m standing there watching her retreat across the suite. Reaching out, I keep the car from closing while grabbing her stupid hat. Frustration fuels my movements as I move through the room, trailing after her. My insecurities crash down around me and tendrils of anger flicker to life.

Did I do something to her? Was she not feeling things the way I was?

The date was perfect, couldn’t have asked better, really, and she definitely seemed all in when we ran out on dessert. She’s the one who wanted to leave. We practically inhaled each other in the elevator. It had felt like a connection, something deeper than co-workers forced to share space.

Her door is wide open, and her back is to me as she reaches for the zipper on the side of her skirt.

“What did I do?” My words come out harsh and startle her. She jumps, her hands going to her chest.

She scoffs and turns her attention away from me. “What don’t you do?”

“Elaborate.” I don’t ask, but demand while flinging her fedora like a frisbee toward her bed, because fuck this. I’m done with this back-and-forth, hot-and-cold bullshit. She’s had a problem with me since college, and it’s about time we settle the dispute now. I’ve gone and fallen for a woman who wants me one second and hates me the next.

I watch as she inhales and exhales, not looking at me. Her back moves with each breath, and I want to spin her around until she spills all her truths. She spins on her toes and marches toward me.

Fiery Kennedy might be my favorite Kennedy, but right now that glare of hers has my balls wanting to shrivel. She jabs her finger into my chest, which was still exposed from moments ago when she was practically ripping my shirt off my body .

“You get everything I want.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, exasperated.

Her chest heaves and her face falls. I want to erase the pain and go back in time when we were sailing across the ocean in our little bubble. Gone were the worries of tomorrow and the pain from yesterday. We were living in the moment and soaking up each other’s company for the first time in our entire relationship.

“Kennedy,” I press, searching her face for any clues as to what’s racing through her mind. “Talk to me. I can’t fix things if you won’t tell me what I did to royal fuck up when it comes to you.”

She shakes her head. The beautiful head with the delicate features and the swollen lips from our kisses. “In college, I would work my ass off. I didn’t party. I didn’t make friends. I didn’t do anything but study, and there you were, constantly swooping in with your arrogant ways to gain the attention of every professor in our major.”

“That’s why you’re so pissed off with me? Because I received more acknowledgments than you?”

“Well, it sounds really fucking stupid when you put it like that.”

“It kind of is.”

“No, don’t do that.” Her voice rises before pausing. She shakes her head in disbelief. “Don’t make my feelings invalid. They were real for me.”

“Of course, your feelings are valid, Kennedy. I guess I just don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to understand.” Her face is filled with anguish, and I hate that I’m the reason for it. I can feel her walls rebuilding. I can’t watch it happen, not again. We’ve come too far to go back to the beginning .

“You’re right, but I want to. Can you try to explain it to me?” Shoulders relaxing, I take a tentative step toward her as I lift my hand to brush a strand of hair out of her face, but I don’t get the chance.

She shakes her head, turning and walking away, putting distance between us. I think she’s going to ignore the question, but she turns around and flails her arms out, her soft voice filling the room. “Getting to NYU was my only dream. I have given up a lot of my life to achieve my dreams, and that was fine; it was a sacrifice I wanted to make. But I thought when I got to NYU, it would be easier. I’d work hard, study, and finally get the praise I guess I was desperate for. No one back home, not even my parents, gave me the credit that I deserved for getting a 35 on my ACT and a 1540 SAT score. Not to mention, graduating with a 4.0. It hurt that no one gave me the credit I deserved. But I thought when I got to college, people would recognize how much grit and determination was needed to get to where we were.

“So I’d sit in the front row, participate in class, and focus on everything the professors had to say. But then you would show up late, sit in the back, and constantly get called in when I was the one showing up early, taking notes, and voluntarily raising my hand to answer questions.”

Thinking back on my time in NYU, I can see where she developed a negative impression of me. The Nelson name carried a lot of weight on campus. While I wasn’t in a fraternity, like my father, the attention was still drawn to me. I was treated like a celebrity, and the professors noticed my name on their rosters. They gave me extra attention in hopes that their goodwill would make it back to my father. I couldn’t have cared less about their attention. I was there because I had to be there .

“I didn’t realize how much you wanted it.”

She huffs, but then whispers, “No one knew how much I wanted it.”

“Things were rough for me, and I used my name to get by with a lot of things. I’m not proud of it, and I know it was a shitty thing to do, but I felt like my life was imploding. So even though I’ve never been one to want the fame that came with my name, there were times when I milked the system,” I admit, not proud of the fact that, in my time of need, I was using everything I could to keep my head above water.

“I’m sorry you were going through a tough time.”

Our eyes lock, emotion coursing through hers as we stare at each other. “It’s not your fault, Ken.”

And it’s not. That time of my life has been put in a locked box. I refuse to fetch the key and open old wounds. I spent a lot of time in therapy working through things, and after graduating college, I finally felt like I was becoming a new, better version of myself. Only to find myself working for my father.

“I hated you for a long time. I hated that your papers were always used as examples, that you had an article posted in Architectural Digest about the next up-and-coming in the industry, and I hated how you won that damn senior project. You didn’t need that prize money. That two-grand would have helped me feel a sense of security as I was struggling to make ends meet. The billionaire’s son didn’t need it.”

“For what it’s worth, I donated the money.” Her eyes widen.

Running my hands through my hair, I stare out the window at the dark waters. The black night seems fitting for the ominous mood that has settled over us. “I hate this, Kennedy. ”

She ignores me as she stands across the room, her shoulder leaning against the glass panes of her sliding patio door, her gaze is locked on the world around us.

“How can I fix this?” I plead, knowing how desperate I sound. “Tell me how I fix this, Kennedy.”

Turning her attention toward me, I watch that confidence slide into its rightful place across her beautiful face as she steels her shoulders.

What she says next has me sucking in a breath of pure and utter shock. Three words I would have never imagined come flying out of her mouth with such conviction, it sends a shiver of pure anticipation down my spine.

“Crawl to me.”