Chapter 29
KENDALL
I’ve only been to his penthouse twice because The Park on Billionaires’ Row has doormen who notice things and security cameras that catch everything.
Recently, someone in the building has been sharing things with LuxLeaks, one of the most honest gossip blogs on the internet, so I’ve tried to avoid being seen.
A month ago, Patterson added me to the guest list and gave me the code to his door, but I’ve barely used it.
I’ve been careful not to blow our cover, but after what I witnessed tonight at that game, I don’t care. Nothing matters but me finding him.
“Patterson,” I say, knocking again. “Please open the door.”
The silence creeps up on me as I punch in the code and let myself in.
The penthouse, with its high ceilings and windows, is dark other than the glittering lights of Manhattan.
My eyes focus on it because I rarely see the city like this.
When my eyes adjust, I notice he’s sitting on the couch with a glass in his hand.
I move forward. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”
“Why are you standing in my penthouse?” His voice is flat and empty and nothing like the man who kissed me in the tunnel four hours ago.
I find the light switch and flip it. His knuckles are swollen and crusted with blood. His jaw is already bruised where Damien caught him.
“You look like shit,” I tell him, crossing the room.
I sit on the coffee table in front of him, reaching for his hands, but he pulls them away.
“Don’t touch me.” His tone isn’t harsh, but it still hurts.
I stare at him, trying to understand what happened—because this isn’t anger. This is him shutting me out.
“Why are you doing this?”
He stares at the near-empty glass in his hand like it’s the most interesting thing in the room. Eventually, he sighs.
“You’re pushing me away, and I’m not letting you do that.” I wait for him to say something, anything, but he gives me nothing. “Talk to me. Please.”
He drains the last drops of his whiskey and stands, walking to the window with his back to me. The city spreads out below us, and he stares at it as if he’d rather be anywhere else but here.
I watch him, my heart pounding too hard as the distance between us grows.
“Oh, you’re mad at me.” I don’t phrase it as a question because I already know the answer. “At least tell me why.”
He doesn’t move.
“Patterson.” I move to him, twisting him around to look at me.
I see the accusation in his eyes. He’s looking at me like I did something unforgivable.
“The Kiss Cam,” he says.
“Oh, don’t do that.” I shake my head. “We were on camera. The whole arena was watching. I had to—”
“You had to kiss him like that?”
“I had to make it believable.”
His nostrils flare. “There was too much enthusiasm, and how your whole fucking body melted into him.” He crosses his arms, and his swollen hands disappear against his chest. “I watched you, Kendall. I saw you grip his shirt like you needed him to breathe. Could’ve fucking fooled me!”
I tilt my head at him, growing more frustrated. “What choice did I have, Pattycakes? Shove him away on live television? Blow our entire cover? He grabbed my face and went for it. I didn’t exactly have time to choreograph the moment or tell him not to stick his tongue down my throat.”
He glares at me. “What did he whisper in your ear? To make you react like that?”
I lick my lips and stare at him. “He said … ‘Everyone’s watching. Pretend I’m him, like you used to.’ So, I did.”
Patterson goes still, and I watch something shift behind his eyes as he processes what I said, and then he looks away from me. It’s confirmation that even Jamie always knew there was something swirling between Patterson and me, and he let it happen anyway.
“He said that?”
“Yes.”
“Did you …” he asks.
I suck in a deep breath. “Yes,” I whisper.
He’s quiet for a long moment, and I give him the space to think about that. I can see him putting the pieces together, rewriting history in his head.
“It was always you, Pattycakes. Don’t you understand that? This …” I point between us. “We were always unavoidable. I knew that the moment we met. So did you.”
When he glances back at me, some of the tension from his shoulders is gone. Maybe I’m getting through to him.
“This fucking scares me.”
I grab his hand, and he doesn’t pull away from me.
“Uh … same. This isn’t the type of love a person survives losing. I understand that. The thought of losing you …”
I shake my head.
“It makes me crash the fuck out.” He chokes up.
“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” I tell him, and he wraps his arms around me.
His walls are crumbling, and he’s not trying to hide it anymore.
The silence stretches on, and then his voice comes out hoarse, barely above a whisper. “I think my problem is, I keep waiting for you to realize you made a mistake.”
I smile at him. “Did I ever tell you the reason I came back to New York?”
“For the commission.”
“For you,” I confess. “I begged the owner for that job, gave him an incredible discount, and used my dad so I’d get chosen.”
This makes him break into a smirk. “I knew it. Nepo baby.”
I smack his chest. “So what?! I’ve done incredible work.
I deserved it even though it might’ve actually happened because of my dad.
But I’d have done anything to be around you.
When I was offered the contract, I told myself that by the end of the season, if we never connected, I’d leave the city and move on. ”
“So, you hunted me?” he asks, pressing the inside of my wrist to his lips.
I burst into laughter. “Like a tiger.”
“Do you think we’ll survive this?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say, pulling him closer so I can brush my lips against his. “Or we’ll die trying.”
Our mouths crash together. It’s hot and needy, almost too much for me to handle.
I pull back and look at him and the bruise forming on his jaw, at the swollen mess of his knuckles. “I told you to protect this face,” I tell him.
“You shoulda seen the other guy,” he says.
I take his hand and lead him toward the bedroom, and he follows without a word.
His room is dark except for the city lights filtering through the windows.
I turn to face him and start unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. His breathing grows uneven as I press my lips against his RUINED tattoo.
“Do you think I can kiss this away?” I ask, and he runs his fingers through my hair.
“No,” he whispers.
“Can I try?”
He doesn’t answer, just watches me with those blue-green eyes as I trace my mouth along the letters—R-U-I-N-E-D.
The moment I saw it, I knew exactly what it meant.
I kiss down his chest, across his stomach, dropping to my knees in front of him.
His hand tightens in my hair when I undo his belt and pull him free.
“Kendall.”
“Let me.”
I take him in my mouth, and he groans, his head falling back. I work him slowly, learning what makes his breath catch, what makes his fingers curl against my scalp. He’s always the one in control, always the one calling the shots, and I want him to know what it feels like to be taken care of.
“Fuck.” His voice is strained. “You have to stop, or this is going to be over before it starts.”
I pull back and look up at him. “So?”
He hauls me to my feet and kisses me hard, walking me backward until my legs hit the bed.
I fall onto the mattress, and he follows, covering my body with his.
His mouth moves down my neck, across my collarbone, and I arch into him when he pulls my shirt over my head and closes his lips around my nipple.
He works his way down my body, kissing my ribs, my stomach.
He lingers at the curve of my hip. When he settles between my thighs, I stop breathing.
His mouth finds my clit, and I cry out, my hands fisting the sheets.
He takes his time, licking and sucking until I’m shaking, until I’m begging, until I shatter against his tongue with his name on my lips.
He kisses his way back up my body while I’m still trembling. I pull him closer and taste myself on his mouth, and it makes me want him even more.
“I need you,” he says.
I pull him down to me. “Show me how much.”
He slides inside me, and we both exhale. I wrap my arms around his back and hold on as he moves slowly. This isn’t like before. There’s no desperation, just us breathing together and choosing each other.
He shifts, and I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders. He does it again and again until everything narrows.
“Look at me,” he says.
I open my eyes to find his, and then I lose it.
I fall apart with my eyes locked on his, and he follows me. Patterson whispers my name against my throat, and I almost start to cry because this feels like he’s letting me all the way in.
“I really hate it when you’re mad at me,” I tell him. “But, damn, the makeup sex? Worth it.”
He chuckles. “Guess that means you’re going to keep pissing me off?”
“Oh, you’d better believe it, Pattycakes.” I grin, and my face softens. “But don’t ever question my love for you again. You’re my number one.”
He presses a kiss to my forehead, then my nose, then my lips. “Thank you.”
“For what?” I trace the lines of his tattoo.
“For seeing me,” he whispers, snuggling tighter and closer.
“I’ve always seen you,” I say, meaning it with every part of my being.