Chapter 17
Kelsie
“Hey, you have a weird look on your face. What’s going on?”
I lift my head from the milkshake I’ve been nursing and find Grace scrutinizing me with a suspicious look in her eyes.
“You’re the weird one,” I counter in a sassy tone, sticking my tongue out at her. “Nerdy STEM girl.”
Grace throws her head back with a laugh, knowing I’m only joking and how proud I am of her achievements. She recently won an award from some prestigious development company for a software design she submitted for their annual conference. There is no doubt in my mind that she will go far after college graduation considering all the job offers she already has on the table.
It has me thinking a lot about the art contest Hayes mentioned the other day and whether I should enter a piece.
I decide to seek Grace’s advice on the subject.
“Hayes wants me to enter the art contest, but I don’t know if I want to.”
Grace’s spoon clatters to her plate. “What? Of course you should! Sugar Smacks, your work is incredible. Why would I have asked you to paint Killian’s birthday present if I didn’t think so?”
I scoff. “Killer has no taste. I mean, come on. The guy drinks warm beer and thinks that’s delicious.”
Grace chuckles. “Touché. Bad example. But I think your work is amazing and you shouldn’t hide it away from the world.”
“I don’t,” I argue, but she glowers with a look that says you’re such a liar. “You know my art is just for me. It helps me process things. Deal with my feelings. I’m not hiding it intentionally.”
Well, maybe I am.
It’s a bone of contention and the reason I’m not speaking to my brother any longer.
As if she reads my mind, Grace cocks her head and purses her lips together, shrewdly assessing me. I swear the girl can see directly into my soul.
“Does this have to do with your brother and dad?”
Maybe. Yes. “No,” I say with an adamant snort. “It has nothing to do with them.”
She reaches an arm across the table and grabs my hand in hers. I try to pull it away, but she doesn’t let go. Considering how much smaller she is than me, that girl is stronger than I give her credit for. I let out a resigned sigh.
“I think it does, Kels. I think you’re scared to really pursue your dreams of being an artist because your dad has messed with your head and has you by the short hairs.”
I shake my head and pull my hand out from hers, placing it down on my lap. Grace knows all about what happened to me two years ago when I cut out my brother from my life.
It was a betrayal of trust when he went behind my back and told my parents about my plans and ruined everything. That disloyal motherfucker.
When we were kids, my older brother, Keaton, was my hero. We did everything together because he was the only one ever there for me and had my back.
Our parents were always gone, traveling the world. My dad owns an international fashion company and my mom didn’t want to stay home and take care of the kids. So we were left alone to be raised by a slew of nannies.
Grace is partially right. I’m in school pursuing a degree in International Business because my dad holds the purse strings and said he’d cut me off if I went in the direction of art school and not a business degree.
“I just need to finish my program and then I can do what I want,” I state with a stiff nod, stuffing a fry in my mouth and smiling tightly.
Grace lets out a sigh of resignation, knowing it’s useless to try and argue with me when my mind is made up. I’m stubborn as fuck and I’m doing what I have to until I reach twenty-five. That’s when I inherit the money my grandparents left me and I’m a free woman. Until then, I’ll keep my head down, focus on my studies, and enjoy making art for myself and my own personal collection which continues to grow with every piece I finish.
“Hear me out on this, Kels,” Grace says, wiping a napkin over her mouth before she smiles deviously and leans forward, giving me a pointed look. “Wouldn’t that be the ultimate act of revenge?”
I pull my head back and narrow my brows. “Revenge? For who?”
She points a finger at me. “You. Unless I’m mistaken, your dad’s only stipulation was that he’d pay for your education only if you studied international business, right?”
“Yeah.”
“But he never said you couldn’t do art at all. So do it. Submit something great to this contest. Don’t let him take the joy and fun out of life. Think of it as the biggest FU to your dad.”
I throw my head back and cackle loudly. “When the hell did you become such a badass bitch?”
Grace flips a lock of her long dark hair and gives me a cheeky grin. “I learned from the best.”
Hayes and I have been working on our project for the past hour, diligently scrubbing through our interview notes and drafting our final outline. Now we’re at a point where the rubber meets the road and we have to begin writing our paper…but I’m bored out of my mind and don’t want to do any of that right now. There’s only one thing I want to do at the moment, and that’s Hayes.
I stare at him with his back propped up against my headboard, knees up with his laptop balanced on his thighs as he types something in our shared Google doc.
He’s so sexy when he concentrates on his work. It’s what drew me to him initially the first time I saw him in the busy café in Montmartre, across the street from Moulin Rouge. I remember that day so vividly.
The guy I’ve been watching for the last fifteen minutes wears an adorable look of confusion across his face, his brows furrowed as he stares over a Parisian street map as if it’s completely foreign to him. Because of the way his head is bent, his dark, wavy hair falls over his eyes, framing his face. Every few seconds he pushes it behind his ear. Without even speaking to him, I know he must be American and is probably on a summer trip, or maybe a gap year, and definitely a little lost.
As if he feels me staring at him, he lifts his gaze to meet mine. I smile and give a small fluttery wave of my fingertips. Then I stand up, grab my bag and coffee, and stroll over to his table with one intent—to find out if he is free later.
“You look like you need some help,” I offer confidently, speaking in English. I pull out the wicker café chair and sit down without waiting for an invitation.
He appraises me dubiously, his eyes assessing me with great curiosity. “If you’re offering, then yes, I need some help.”
And that was that. Hayes and I finished our coffees over a brief introduction and then I began giving him the tour of the quartier of Montmartre. It ended with us naked in bed in my flat later that evening.
I thought it would be a one-night thing and I’d never see him again. But fate had other plans and Hayes ended up in my International Business course at the university in Paris. It was the most beautiful time of my life.
I sigh at the memory and push my laptop to the side of the bed, stretching my arms over my head. I get to my knees and crawl over to his side, his dark eyes lifting from his laptop and landing on me.
“What’s up?” he asks, cocking his head to the side, eyebrows raised. When he gets a good look at my hungry expression, he nods. “Oh…in need of a study break?”
I simply nod and pull my T-shirt up over my head and toss it to the floor, leaving me in my pink, see-through bra and booty shorts.
Reaching for his laptop, I shift it off his lap and set it next to mine. He drops his knees and stretches his legs out to allow me to straddle him. As I do, Hayes reaches around my backside to cup my ass in his hands, jerking me forward. Nestled in the juncture of my legs, I feel the very evident bulge of his cock under the material of his track pants.
Without a word, I burrow my hands underneath his T-shirt and lift it up to expose the divine structure of his abdominals and chest. He dutifully raises his arms as I divest him of his shirt.
His body is perfectly sculpted, his long torso covered with a soft dusting of dark hair. He’s not big like other football players because of his position on the team. His physique is more lean and not bulky, but his muscles are toned and defined. I run my fingers through the trail of hair and then up over his chest, scoring a fingernail over the round, copper penny nipple. I feel his cock jerk in response between my legs.
A swath of his wavy hair falls casually over his forehead and I brush it away before leaning down to kiss him.
It’s slow and exploratory. He moves his hands to cup my jaw and our mouths open for each other and I sweep my tongue inside before sealing my lips over his.
Hayes’s long, tapered fingers return to clutch the globes of my ass, digging into my flesh as they move my hips in a rocking motion.
I withdraw from the kiss and sit upright, unhooking my bra and letting it fall away, my breasts now hanging bare between us. Hayes leans forward and flicks one of my nipples with the tip of his tongue and I arch forward. The sensation creates a ripple of need that shoots straight to my clit.
I rock my hips lazily back and forth, the rhythm picking up speed when he cups my breasts in his palms, sucking them one at a time.
“Mmm…” I moan, unable to contain the pleasure that each stroke of his tongue produces. “I need you inside me. Now.”
We wrangle out of our remaining clothes and I readjust myself on top of him, the silky length of him gliding over my wet slit.
Taking him in hand, I circle the engorged head with my fingers, smoothing the pearls of wetness around his crown. He growls and I peer down at where the head of his cock nestles between my folds.
Rising up on my knees, I angle my hips so his tip is at my entrance. I return my gaze to his, finding his eyes dark with lust, unfocused, and heavy-lidded. Before he can say a word, I slam down, impaling myself on his cock.
“Wait…” Hayes tries to scramble up on his hands, but I shake my head, pushing him back down with my palms over his pecs.
“Shhh…let me just ride you like this. We’re okay.”
The look in his eyes moves from concern over our protection to blissed-out satisfaction as I roll my hips forward, taking him further inside.
“Oh fuck, Kels…you’re going to ruin me.”
My only response to his admission as we take each other to the promised land is, “Good.”