Chapter 9
9
I don’t see Dominic anywhere on the packed terrace. Rubbing my eyes, I will the world to stop swaying as I walk. Maybe I need to sit.
“Do you think they went down to the quad?” Kendall’s hand on my elbow sears like a brand as he tucks me into him as if we’ve been doing this for years, and guides me to the stairs. At my noise of acquiescence, he nods. “Let’s go check.”
“Why are you suddenly Mr. Helpful?” I ask, my body abdicating steering to his persuasive power.
He sighs. “I’ve been trying to help you all along, Helena.”
I laugh like some maniacal cartoon as we clomp down the steps. These heels are not a good choice for nighttime meandering in gardens. “You think that by being an insane asshole, you’re helping me?”
“You don’t understand.” His pull on my elbow is insistent. For the moment I forget everything but the warmth of being tucked into Kendall’s side. My skin thrills at the brush of his suit against my bare arms. The warmth of his hand on my back and elbow. The swish of his long legs in their wool trousers. I notice every little thing about him, when I really should try to get away from him.
“Wait, where are we going?” It dawns on me that Kendall has a purpose, and it’s not looking for...who are we looking for again? I think hard for a moment. Clara? Was I looking for Clara? No. I’m looking for Dominic and Li. I shake my muddled head. My eyes wander back to the patio, and I see Clara watching our progress, eyes narrowed.
“Are you here with Clara? She’s watching us. She looks mad.”
He stumbles for a step as he looks over his shoulder. “She’ll be okay. I’ll find her next. After, I mean. After I return you to your friends. Here. Let’s see if we can see them from here.” Now that we’re off the stone stairs, he tucks us in against the wall of the stair, deep in shadow. Another wall.
I peer around comically, as if Li and Dominic are waiting here to pounce on us. “I’ll give the all clear, captain,” I say with a sloppy salute.
He hasn’t let go of my elbow. Under the guise of steadying me, he presses me back until my thighs meet the wall behind me. What is with him?
Cold stone brushes my back, and Kendall’s suit jacket brushes my front. My nipples pebble. It must be the cold night air. I barely stop myself from crossing my arm over them, so I rub my hands up and down my thighs instead, just to give my hands something to do. I’m restless for no discernible reason. I’m like a sensation junkie.
Which is when Kendall and I both realize that he’s stroking his hands up and down my arms in a soothing motion. Gooseflesh breaks out on my torso. Instead of letting me go, his hands slow to a sensual pace, gliding with intent back up to my shoulders.
“Shit, I think I got a little of it.” He takes a deep inhale—is he smelling me? No. No, likely he’s doing the Kendall thing where he’s praying for patience. I’m annoying him with my needy drunkenness and my missing friends.
When he opens his eyes, they’re glittering again. I don’t think he realizes he’s still stroking my arms, because his face is all business. The careful strokes are…so out of character for him, they’re wreaking havoc with my insides. How can one person be such a dichotomy within one body? He clearly hates me. But these glimpses I have of the other Kendall? I’d almost call it…yearning?
“Okay, let’s get this over with before I do something stupid,” he says, like he’s coaching himself.
“Get what over with?” I felt a jolt of concern, causing my body to tense up. Is he here to steal my kidneys? His hands fall away from my arms, and I’m chilled from the loss of his heat.
He looks startled. I don’t think he realized he’d said it out loud. “Uh.” He shakes his head, as if to clear it. “Talking. I’m supposed to talk to you.”
“Forget about trying to scare me with your tough guy act to make me leave. You don’t scare me, Kendall Saint James.”
I punctuate it with my finger in his chest like before, and his hands come back to grip my arms. He’s squeezing me, like he can’t decide if he’s going to push me away or lift me into the air. Either way, I’d be lying if I didn’t say he scared me a little in that moment. There is leashed violence in his body, looking for an escape.
“Yeah, well.” He looms closer. “What do we do if you scare me? ”
“What?” My voice is a breath. That is…not what I expected him to say.
At some point, he’s moved so that his body presses into mine, chest to hip. And I should be terrified he means to take advantage of me, but it feels good . Like, mind-alteringly delicious. “You. Scare. Me, Helena.” His hands tighten again as they haul me against him, then delicious pressure everywhere all over my body. I’ve never experienced anything like this. This is… this is…not right . I feel like I can see sound and taste colors. Somewhere in the back of my mind, an alarm bell rings. This isn’t normal. My body’s senses are tuned up to an painful level and everything filling them is Kendall. Sight. Smell. Sound.
Ragged breathing. His chest rises and falls with mine. We’re both breathing like we’ve run a marathon. I drag my hands down his chest, just to feel the scratch of his suit jacket, and the smoothness of the shirt beneath. I’m a junkie for sensation. I press harder into him, seeking more of that delicious pressure. I want to be sandwiched between Kendall and this wall in the most primal, most forceful way possible.
“Fuck, this was a bad idea,” Kendall growls as he rolls his body against mine. Hatred and lust roll off of him, setting fire to my frazzled brain.
When he grinds into me again, I give a whimper. This is a noise I have never made in my life. It belongs on a porno. I’m one second away from begging for something—I’m not even sure what it is. I just want the universe to send me more of what I’m experiencing right now.
I drag my eyes up to Kendall’s. He’s watching my face hungrily. His eyes flare to life, burning like the fires of hell itself. “Have you ever done this with anyone else?” He rolls his hips against me, and his hands slide to my rib cage, bracketing me as his thumbs trace circles just under my breasts.
“No.” I gasp the word. I’m surprised I answer at all, or that I can form words.
With a groan, he leans down, his lips graze my neck. I lean my head to the side, unable to deny myself the sensation. It sends bolts of electricity through my entire body.
“What have you done? How far have you gone? Are you a virgin?” The line of questioning seems a bit forward, but I’m having a hard time fighting the compulsion to answer everything as he asks it.
“Kissing. Making out. That’s it. Kenny Cho in seventh grade, you in that closet, and this guy Chris from government class. At a dance. He felt me up, but it was awful. Nothing like…nothing like this. Yes, I’m a virgin.” This has gotten graphic in a hurry. I know I should be…fighting back. Arguing. Telling him he has no business asking me these things or….dear God , sucking on my ear lobe. I groan and rub my body against his, up and down. I need to feel the fabric of his suit scraping my nipples, need sweet friction?—
Holy fuck . What is happening?
“Did you kiss that Dominic guy?”
“Almost.” I pant the word. Every little movement of his suit burns through my nipples and into my center. I want him closer. I want him to grind me against the stone at my back until my brain lights up with stars. The world is my oyster, and I want to feel everything Kendall has to offer.
Our movements are more frantic, our breathing erratic. Kendall’s grip on whatever shred of control he has is diminishing. “I shouldn’t be affected like this. I just took a sip but holy fuck , Helena. I have wanted to do this for so long. I have hated you for making me want this.”
His hands come up and bury none-too-softly in my hair. Instead of crying out in pain, I suck in a breath of pleasure. It’s so much sensation . Every nerve ending in my scalp is alive. With half-mad eyes, he angles my head back and stares down at me. “I hate that anyone else has kissed you.”
I suck in a breath. This certainly is a change in feelings from four years of being iced out.
“Do you want me, Helena?”
I want to lie. I want to hurt him the way he’s hurt me. I want to tell him that the one kiss we shared in the closet is why all my other kisses have fallen flat. I want to give him an ounce of the torment I’ve had, thinking I did something wrong. But I can’t. “I hate you,” I whisper instead. It’s a truth I never intended to say out loud.
His eyes glitter. “But do you want me?”
“Yes.” I’m shocked as hell that I said it. That I want him. I’ve never even admitted that to myself . The alarm bell is back, insistent in the back of my mind.
“Good.”
The night surrounds me, pressing in on us. His mouth crashes down on mine.