18. Kendall
Kendall
“What exactly am I looking at here, Jenna?” I ask while she’s on speakerphone.
Even though I know exactly what I’m looking at and it makes my stomach coil with tension and my body simmer with rage.
It’s a slightly blurry photograph of Kai and some gorgeous super model.
I know she's a model because I’m almost positive I saw her on the cover of Vogue a few months ago.
A tall brunette in a crimson peacoat that swallows her thin frame.
Her long legs are on display in leather pants.
They’re walking out of what I assume is his apartment complex, their hands nearly brushing, a grin on both their faces.
She’s just close enough to him that it looks ambiguous.
Maybe they spent the night together? Maybe they live in the same building and just happened to walk out at the same time?
Maybe maybe maybe. The maybes might just annihilate me.
“That is a photo of daddy dipshit with someone who obviously isn’t you. And they look pretty cozy if you ask me.”
“Yes, thank you, Jenna. I can see that,” I observe. “It doesn’t prove anything. It’s also none of my business. He can do what he wants. He doesn’t owe me an explanation.”
So then why do I spend the next three hours giving him the cold shoulder, clipped answers, and the bare minimum of conversation?
“Are you okay?” he asks right before he leaves. His dark eyes are calculating, assessing.
“I’m fine,” I lie. “I’m just a little tired,” I respond, crossing my arms.
“Are you sure because you don’t seem fine.
You seem upset.” He takes a step toward me and gently touches my arm.
There was no point in continuing the charade; Kai knows me too well.
My tells, my body language, my everything.
And wasn’t this an opportunity to start being honest with him?
The thing I should have done from the start.
“I saw a tabloid photo today,” I murmur, avoiding eye contact with him.
“Okay…” there are probably so many pictures and tabloids of him. I’m going to have to be more specific.
I sigh while pulling my phone out of my pocket and open the text thread I have with Jenna. Clicking on the photograph, I hand him my phone. He stares at it for a few seconds before returning his eyes to me.
“This was from a few weeks ago. It was a PR stunt coordinated by her publicist. We live in the same building and nothing happened between us, Ken.” He’s telling the truth. I know he is. Besides, he has no reason to lie. We aren’t together and the picture is dated a week before I went to his game.
“It’s fine, Kai. You are free to do what you want. You don’t need to give me an explanation.” He grins and I wish it didn’t have the effect it always does.
“Are you jealous, Ken?” he wonders, moving a half a step closer to me.
“I wouldn’t say that I enjoy this picture,” I admit, leaning into his chest.
He brings his hand to my cheek, strokes it with his thumb. My stomach bottoms out, my pulse pounds. Is he going to kiss me?
“I need to hear you say it, Ken. I deserve that much, don't I?” he asks, his voice low, lethal, dangerous. I wonder if he realizes he leaned in closer, or maybe I have.
“Of course I’m jealous. I don’t want to see you with other women,” I reply harshly.
He frames my face in his hand while he curls one arm around my waist. Holding me to him.
Our hearts beating furiously. I want him to kiss me, more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
I might lose my goddamn mind if he does. I’ll self-destruct if he doesn’t.
“Whatever you’ve seen in the tabloids, in magazines, on TV.
None of that matters. Because the only person I haven’t been able to get out of my head over the last three years is you.
You are the one woman I can’t stop thinking about.
Always you. Only you,” he explains. His forehead is against mine and we’re both breathing hard.
“I really want to kiss you right now. But we're taking things slow.”
“We’re taking things slow,” I repeat before licking my lips. My heart skips a beat and then another.
Breathe, Kendall.
"And figuring out how to trust each other,” he whispers.
I’m intoxicated by his scent, the timbre of his voice, the broadness of his shoulders, and the comfort I feel whenever I’m in his arms. He laughs and it vibrates throughout my entire body before sinking deep into my core.
He pulls me close to his chest and presses a kiss to my crown.
“I’m going to leave before I do something reckless,” he says, letting me go and moving towards the door. “Night, Ken.”
“Night, Kai,” I reply, biting my lip. He smiles that devastating smile and closes the door shut behind him. Which is probably for the best.
Because I want him reckless. I want him undone. In my head, on my skin, underneath my body. Infiltrating my defenses, worshipping my soul, and holding my heart in his hands. I want him any way I can have him. Every way.
And I know very well that I can’t.