Chapter twenty Damon #2
“Since we’re talking about it ahead of time,” I begin, sure I’m making a mistake but unable to pass up the opportunity to feel her again, “and since neither your ex nor anyone else should be able to make you feel bad in that dress,” she blushes, “then I’ll kiss you tonight.”
She squeals and hugs me around the waist, doing funny things to my insides.
“But,” I insist, “only if the situation calls for it, and only for this event. Don’t think you’re getting lucky tonight.”
She looks me up and down, clearly enjoying what she sees. I’ve never blushed so much in my life.
“Can’t blame a girl for trying.”
I tug at my collar again, sending her into another fit of giggles. She’s different tonight, her comments and body language way past the usual innuendo. A tiny voice in my head wants to ask what all this means. If she’s reconsidered giving us a try.
I shove the thought aside just as we arrive at the venue. The lights are blinding even through the car’s tinted windows. There’s no room for wishful thinking right now. It’s showtime.
An hour and change later, we finally have the chance to breathe.
I don’t know how she does it! There are still spots in my vision from the flash mob of photographers when we first arrived.
The gauntlet, as she called it, was no better. She did the same three poses from three different angles every three feet of the red carpet, all while paparazzi hurled questions meant to provoke her.
Kendra! Have you heard about your ex’s engagement?
Kendra! Is it true that you lied about the cheating to get more money in the divorce?
Kendra! Did Andre divorce you because you wouldn’t lose weight?
Kendra! Did you know Andre and Julie are already trying for a baby?
As she predicted, I wanted to punch all their teeth in. See how smug and bold they could be with a fat lip and a black eye. But Kendra’s smile never wavered. I was in awe.
The promo photos for the event go smoothly as Kendra demonstrates the difference between a pretty face and a supermodel. She’s a pro, even suggesting additional shots and a hashtag to boost engagement online.
After the shoot, she moves through the room while I follow closely behind, handing her either a champagne flute or a mini crab cake. She knows everyone, asking about people’s children, or their projects still in development, or their sick pet. Her mind must be an endless Rolodex.
To my utter surprise, she sometimes brings me into the conversation.
Her agent, Morty, has a couple of clients in the NBA.
Her friend Daniela has an aunt who moved to Spain years ago that she still visits regularly.
Despite being here to make her night easier, she makes sure I never feel left out, working to find the connection between me and the people in her world.
“My feet are killing me,” she complains while leaning heavily against me. “Why do I have to wear heels when I’m already so tall?”
I personally love the heels, especially the way they accentuate the long line of her legs, but I’m smart enough not to comment. I flag down a passing server instead, grabbing steak en croute and some kind of mini sushi cone.
“You look great. And I still haven’t seen Andre. Maybe you’re in the clear.” I hope she is, though that probably means I won’t be getting that kiss.
It’s cool. I’ve been touching her all night—a hand on her back, a graze of my nose on her neck, our pinkies interlocked as we moved through the crowd. My dick may never go down.
“Fingers crossed,” she mutters just loud enough for me to hear. “That means I can finally relax and enjoy the party.”
She tilts her head from side to side, loosening her neck, and I automatically reach for her, kneading my thumbs into her tight traps. The moan she releases is almost obscene. If I thought I was hard before…
“Oh God! That feels heavenly!” she groans with her eyes closed.
Getting traded. Technical fouls. Accidentally deleting my player in NBA 2K. I think of the most unpleasant things I can to keep myself from sliding my hand lower, inside her dress this time. It doesn’t work.
Kendra opens her eyes, and they lock with mine immediately. Her mouth is open; she’s nearly panting. A quick glance down reveals her nipples are hard and her chest is rising and falling with her quick breaths. Is the kiss happening after all? With no one to make jealous?
I look at her mouth again and lick my lips. Fuck it. I’m tired of fighting this. I lean forward and—
“Well, well, well! Fancy seeing you here!”
Kendra’s body immediately tenses. I barely hold back a snarl.
“Is it really surprising, considering Pumped Energy is paying me and I’ve been posting about it all week?” Kendra sounds almost as annoyed as I am by the interruption. Andre doesn’t take the hint.
“Ah, Kiki—”
“Don’t call me that,” Kendra growls through gritted teeth. I’ve never seen her this angry.
“But you used to love my pet names,” he drawls with a wink.
“No. I always hated them. What do you want?” Anger flows off Kendra in waves, and I’m glad not to be on the receiving end of it.
“Ki—” he stops himself. “Kendra, can’t we be civil? We’re bound to keep running into each other, and what happened is water under the bridge. I’ve moved on.” He gestures towards me, his lip curling. “You’ve moved on. What’s there to still be angry about?”
Her body draws tight as if to pounce, and I instinctively pull her closer.
“Hey, buddy. Why don’t you just move along? The lady obviously doesn’t want to talk to you.”
Andre sneers at me, and I smirk back. If he were a cartoon, smoke would be coming out of his ears.
“I can talk to my wife any way I—”
“Your wife?” I cut in, moving Kendra behind me now. “Isn’t Kendra your ex-wife? Or are you talking about your future wife, Julie? Where is she, by the way?”
Andre opens his mouth, but I interrupt before he can respond.
“I think,” I start, my smirk turning menacing, “you need to go ahead and move along before you cause a scene.”
I look around us at the surrounding guests, who are obviously eavesdropping, waiting to see what happens between Kendra’s ex and a man they think is her boyfriend. Andre looks around too.
“Move along,” I repeat, stepping into his space, “and next time Kendra’s at an event, make sure you’re not there.”
With another nervous glance at all the eyes on us, Andre backs down.
“Whatever. Enjoy my sloppy seconds,” he spits at me as he runs away like a coward. “And I do mean sloppy.”
Kendra gasps at his cold words. Or maybe from my fingers digging into her hip, trying desperately not to punch him. I quickly release her.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” I stammer, smoothing the fabric of the dress where I held her and avoiding her eyes. “Or if I overstepped with Andre.”
Her eyes are wild, and a deep flush covers her cheeks and neck.
“Take me home,” she demands. My heart sinks.
“Of course. I didn’t mean to—”
Kendra grabs my suit by the lapels and slams her lips onto mine, swallowing the rest of the sentence. The kiss is fierce and frantic…and quickly getting out of hand with a lot of eyes on us. Reluctantly, I pull away.
“Take me home now.”
We might be making a mistake. We may even regret it tomorrow. But tonight, we’re both done fighting the inevitable.
Without hesitation, I take her hand and lead us to the exit.