Chapter Sixteen #2
“It’s late,” I protested again, weakly, as he put his arms around me, but I didn’t resist when he tucked me into his chest. We might be the same size, but at that moment I felt as helpless as a kitten.
“I can tell time. And I’m still staying. Nothing’s happening except us sleeping in the same bed. I remember every time bad things would happen to me as a kid, all I wanted was for someone to be there for me.”
“And you want to be that person for me?”
“I think that’s obvious.”
I couldn’t object even if I wanted to. I’d spent hours driving, worrying about Belinda, afraid I’d show up and find her hurt and hysterical. Instead, she was excited and celebrating her engagement, warning me off her and her new life. I felt stupid, used, and wanted to curl up in a ball and hide.
Keston, sensing my submission, steered me to the bedroom, where he undressed me and put me into bed.
He shed his clothes and climbed in. True to his word, he didn’t put the moves on me, not even a kiss.
I scooted closer, needing his strength, and sighed.
Contentment spread through me, warm as the Mediterranean sun, and peace filled my fractured soul.
“Good night, Bailey.”
I closed my eyes.
**
I awoke to the smell of coffee and an empty bed.
I heard sounds in the kitchen. I ran to the bathroom, put on briefs, and when I entered the living room, seeing Keston in my kitchen, drinking coffee, had my stupid emotions in overdrive creating hopes and dreams of us living here and mornings like this being a daily occurrence.
“Hey,” he said, glancing up from the mug in his hands. “I figured you’d want coffee, so I made some. Nothing fancy, but it does the trick.”
“Thanks.” I joined him at the island and took the cup he handed me. “It’s good.”
“You really were a barista?”
I sipped my coffee. “Yeah. Three years. It helped me through college. Money was tight, and my dad didn’t make a hell of a lot as a patrol cop.”
“I didn’t know.”
“What, you thought I was too cute to be serving coffee drinks?” I teased. “And why would you know anything about me other than I’m great in bed?”
“And that you’re modest?” But he gave me one of those rare, beautiful smiles, and I couldn’t help grinning back.
“One of my better qualities.” My humor faded. “Thanks for being there last night.”
He sipped his coffee. “You’re welcome. It must be hard watching your sister make mistake after mistake.”
“For years I tried to protect her the best way I knew how—money, legal advice. And I didn’t mind because I knew she’d had it rough. Now?” I shrugged. “Maybe I’m ready to let go. I think my promise to my father was fulfilled.”
“I agree. At some point she has to own up to her responsibilities. And if she’s marrying that guy, they’ll have to deal with each other.”
While I understood Keston’s logic and agreed with him on principle, I knew it’d be hard to walk away completely. Some part of me would always be watching over Belinda. I also wanted to change the subject.
“What’re you doing today, now that we’re home early in the city? I know you don’t have any clients scheduled, so we could have one of those brunches you’re so intent on avoiding.”
Keston’s brow furrowed. “I’m not avoiding them. It’s just not my scene.”
“Well, I love them. How about we compromise?” I set my cup aside and circled the island to hug him. “We go out for brunch, then you can decide what we get to do for the rest of the afternoon.” I pressed a kiss to his mouth. “I think we both have the same idea for how we’ll spend the night.”
He groped my ass. “Is this part of the figuring-out-what-we’re-doing thing we talked about at the cabin?”
I already knew my feelings, but no way in hell was I going to tell Keston.
“Yeah. I think so. What do you say?”
He kissed me. “Bring on the Bloody Marys.”
It was the perfect day, leading to an even better night.
After brunch, which he admitted—grudgingly—that he’d enjoyed, we walked past the Dakota, and into Central Park.
The weather stayed sunny, and hand in hand, we strolled along the path.
Keston bought a pretzel, and I bit almost half of it off.
Pretend-outraged, he pulled it away from me.
“What the hell was that?”
“I like a man with a big pretzel, what can I say? Especially yours ’cause it’s extra salty.”
“There’s no stopping you, is there?” he groaned and finished it off. He wrapped his arm around my waist, our lips brushing together. His eyes sparkled in the sunlight, and my heart pounded.
“Nothing could keep me from wanting you.”
Keston blinked and kissed me. “Let’s go to your place.”
Once home, he didn’t jump me as I’d thought but led me to the couch. I sat, and he lay with his head in my lap.
“You were right.”
My fingers played in his hair. “About what? There are so many possible answers.”
“The brunch. It was nice.”
“I’m glad you liked it.” My fingers trailed the cut of his jawline. “What do you think about sushi for dinner?”
“I’m thinking they better deliver late.”
I glanced down at him, and at the familiar glint in his eyes, my body leaped to respond.
“Guess we’ll have to find out.” I raced to the bedroom. Keston followed me, and I met his lips eagerly as I pulled him to the bed.
**
Monday morning, I awoke with Keston’s arm heavy across my waist, and I welcomed its weight. For a few minutes I luxuriated in my fantasy. Keston and me, together. In love. Carefully, I turned to him and studied his face as he slept, something I never got a chance to do when he was awake.
Even in rest, his brow was furrowed, and I wondered about the pain still living inside him. Was he irrevocably broken, too fractured to feel? To love? Was I? My head spinning, I closed my eyes, as if that would settle my jumbled thoughts into some semblance of coherence.
“What the hell are you so serious about this early?” Keston asked, his voice a husky, delicious rasp.
“I thought you were asleep.”
“Nope. Just lying here, getting ready to face the day. Again, why are you looking so grim?” He frowned. “Oh. Still thinking about your sister? That’s rough. Do you want to talk about it?”
I flipped the sheets and hopped out of bed. “I need to take a shower.” I left him and stood under the water, getting my wits together. I dried off and returned to the bedroom, but Keston was gone. I found him in the kitchen, drinking coffee. Seeing me, he poured a cup.
“Here.” He pushed it toward me. “You didn’t answer me. Do you want to talk about your sister?”
I put up a hand. “I have a miserable week ahead of me, filled with divorce settlements and custody battles, so I’m not in the right headspace to talk about anything.”
Keston set his cup on the countertop. “That’s fine. Can I take a shower?”
I’d been prepared for his poking and prodding, but I should’ve known Keston, as private as he was about his life, wasn’t about to insert himself into mine. We went through life shouldering our demons alone.
“Yeah, of course.”
He rinsed his mug and left me to drink the rest of my coffee.
I heard the shower running, then shut off, and I took my second mug into the bedroom, where I watched him rummage through his bag and pull out some clothes.
I hated seeing that beautiful body covered, but I had to admit, he looked as good dressed as he did naked.
He zipped up his bag, and I walked him to the door. I undid the locks, and he surprised me by tangling his fingers in my hair and settling his mouth over my willing lips. I sank into that kiss, sucking his tongue, inhaling his scent, his breath, until he broke away, wild-eyed and panting.
“Tonight?” He waited, and stunned by his question, I couldn’t find my voice and nodded. “I’ll come here.”
And he was gone.
“Jesus,” I muttered, still on fire from the raw lust and passion of that single kiss. I’d been with plenty of guys, had lots of enjoyable sex, but there was something about Keston that made me nervous and unsure. Like a virgin.
“Get it under control. Your dick doesn’t pay the bills.”
I laughed to myself and went to finish getting dressed, already anticipating the evening ahead.