Chapter 16
I stared up, the late-morning light flickering across the ceiling.
“This one will wreck you.”
Angie’s statement circled in my brain over and over.
I tilted my head, my gaze landing on the figure curled up next to me. My dick was chaffed and sore from how many times I took her last night and this morning but still twitched, rising at the mere sight of her: her bare skin as she slept on her stomach, the sheet barely covering her ass, her hair swirling down her scraped back, her head twisted toward me, her lips puffy from being bit and devoured.
Her skin was scratched and cut from the brick wall; bruises the shapes of fingerprints covered her entire body, along with scruff burn.
Jesus, I turned barbaric on her. I was not a gentle guy, but I went full beast and she demanded more.
Kinsley surprised me. She was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Feral. Wild. Matched me, gave back, and was open and responsive to everything I tried. A few times she took control and left me winded and shattered.
She was more than I ever imagined.
Exhaling, I ran my hand over my face, sensing how deep I was sinking. I could blame it on the fact it had been a damn long time since I had been with someone, but it wasn’t. It was her.
Becca and I had a volatile, great sex life. But nothing, I mean nothing, like this. I had been so in love with Becca and still I knew there was no comparison. Kinsley was on a whole other plane. The way it felt to be inside her… I wanted to set up camp and never leave. Tasting her, kissing her, touching her.
Shit.
I was such a colossal asshole. I couldn’t keep her. I should have never crossed the line last night, but when I watched her dance, so free and sensual, and she gave me that look from across the room, desire and fire in her eyes. I was barely holding on. When she smiled at that blond, preppy Ken doll, I snapped.
She was mine.
But she couldn’t be. I wasn’t being fair or honest to her. She didn’t deserve this.
Aggravation blew out in a heavy burst, my fingers rubbing at the hammering in my head.
A hand reached out, skimming over my chest, jerking my head to the side. My skin instantly reacted to her touch like a salivating dog.
“Hey.” I couldn’t fight a slight smile tugging at my lips. She looked so fucking gorgeous.
“Hey,” she responded, her hand moving over my pecs to my tattoo. “What were you thinking about?”
“Noth—”
“Don’t tell me nothing. I know it was something.” Her teeth pulled in her bottom lip. “Are you regretting this? Me?”
“Regretting you?” My head shook. “No fucking way.” I reached over, tucking hair behind her ear.
I regret this can’t be more.
“If I didn’t think you were already beyond sore, I’d be inside you right now,” I replied bluntly, not able to hold the truth from coming out.
A coy smile ghosted her mouth, her cheeks blushing. “Funny, I suddenly feel fine.”
A rumble came up my throat as I rolled onto my side, clasping her face, my mouth finding hers.
Yep. Total asshole. And yet I couldn’t seem to stop.
She hooked her leg over my thigh, her lips nipping down my throat to my chest, her tongue trailing my tattoo as her hand skated over my ass to my hip.
“What is this from?” Her fingers retraced the scar on my side.
My chest tightened.
“A fight,” I answered, breathing her in, my tongue flicking against hers, causing a breathy hum to rise from her.
“Looks like a knife wound.”
Switchblade to be exact. “Like I said. A fight.” My fingers tangled in her hair, pushing my thigh into her, causing a breathy moan from her.
This is a perfect time. Tell her,a voice in my head demanded, but the declaration stuck in my throat, fear seizing it back like a thief.
“I can’t actually believe I’m here right now.” Her hand skated down my jaw, skimming the thick stubble along my chin. “With you.”
“Tell me about it.” I pulled her closer, my mouth brushing her cheek and nose. “Little Baby K in my bed.”
“Ugh. Don’t call me that.” Her hand drifted around my ass. I realized it had been a while since I had. When did it stop? When did my subconscious know she was something totally different to me? “And technically, it’s my bed.” She grinned up at me. “But seriously, if you told me nine years ago I’d be traveling across country with The Smith Blackburn in a van, fucking him in an alleyway, jumping off of bridges…I would have laughed my ass off.”
“And all with a dog named, Goat.” I snorted, thinking of his long ears and happy face. Damn, I missed that fluff ball.
“Never could forget him.” She licked her lips, swallowing roughly. “Not thinking past this moment. I’m glad your bike broke down.”
“Not thinking past this moment… I am too.” I kissed her softly. Jesus, I was being all mushy and sweet. Something I normally wasn’t. I wasn’t a cuddler or sweet talker. Sex… maybe stay for breakfast if I really liked you, and then separate ways.
Becca was an exception, but even then, neither of us were good at snuggling, ready to get on with our day. Jobs came first.
So why did the idea of lying next to Kinsley all day sound perfect?
Tell her. Tell her now.
“Kins?” My chest puffed like I was preparing for battle, her dark eyes meeting mine. They were like the darkest color of coffee and could shred all your secrets and barriers as you willingly dove into them, letting them drown you. “You know the construction job I said I was taking time from?” I licked my lips. “Well, it was mine. My business… Well, part of it anyway.”
“You own your own construction company?” She looked impressed.
“I used to.”
“You don’t anymore?”
“No.” The story of my past grasped my tongue, holding on for dear life, not wanting to leave my mouth.
“Do you want to? Have a company again?”
“Yeah.” I really did. It wasn’t only because it was all I felt I was good at, but I loved being out on a lot, building with my hands, creating something from scratch. “I do.”
“What about starting your own?” she asked.
“Haven’t thought much about it lately.” It had taken me a while to think about anything positive.
“You should.” Her eyes lit up. “I could help you. Business is what I studied after all. Can’t let my degree go to waste.”
“Is that what you want to do? Business?”
“Unlike my sister and brother, I have nothing I’m really interested in. No set direction.”
“Then what do you want to do, Kinsley Maxwell?” I brushed my hand over her cheek, wanting to know everything about this woman.
“I don’t know. That’s what this trip was about. Finding myself. Finding what I was meant to do.”
I snorted. “You know life doesn’t work like that. Like some movie where you go on a trip and suddenly all comes clear, your future set.” I tucked deeper into the pillow. “Believe me, life is messy, full of twists and turns. Once you think you got a handle on it, it flips it all over, destroying your world in a blink. Nothing is easy or simple.”
“It seems to be for Kasey and Kyle. Always has been.”
“I love your brother, you know that, but Kyle is not a deep person. He looks at life at surface level. So does Kasey. You are not like that at all. You never have been. Even when you annoyed the crap out of me, you saw more—past the fa?ade people put up. Drove me insane when you’d look at me, peeling away all my bullshit.”
I squeezed her ass. “But the deeper you see the layers and complexities of life, the more difficult it can be, but with it comes the beauty in truly seeing… really living.”
“Like?”
“Like the highs of being fully alive, living in the dark and light. Feeling it all. Do you think Kasey would jump from a bridge or have dirty sex in an alleyway where everyone can see? Can you picture Amie and Kyle breaking the headboard or getting complaints from neighbors?”
“No.” Pink tinted her face as she sucked in her bottom lip. “Not at all.”
“Because they wouldn’t. They would be shocked by it. Uncomfortable. I don’t want to live in a routine. Groundhog Day. Doing the same day over and over and forgetting to look up. I want to feel all the highs and lows. Appreciate them instead of just skimming the surface. Ugly, awful, beautiful, or dirty.” I inched closer to her. “And you don’t strike me as someone who really wants that either.”
“I don’t.”
“So out of all your classes, what made you feel the most excited? Don’t think… just answer.”
“My marketing class… when I got to be creative,” she said. “Designing logos, business cards, and advertisements for social media. I loved putting together ads. How a simple color could entice a customer and make them want to buy something. It was fascinating.”
“So why don’t you do that?”
“What?”
“Advertise and market for businesses?”
“I graduated in finance. I only took one class in marketing.”
“So?”
“So… the money is better in finance and marketing/PR is extremely hard to get into. I mean, anyone can start their own company, but it’s difficult to survive in the industry with such a flood in the market, especially when I don’t have a degree in that.”
“You’d rather spend your life doing something you hate?”
“No.”
“Okay… design my logo. What would it look like?”
“For you?” She squinted up at me. “I’d make it different from everyone else. A little sexier.”
“What?” I snorted. “Me without my shirt on?”
“Do you know how much business you’d get?” She motioned to me. “But no. Though probably not too far off.” She tapped her lip. “Maybe a dark outline of a guy…” She coughed. “You. A shirtless guy with hot, toned body with a construction hat and hammer over his shoulder walking out from a built house like he just slayed the bitch, and S.B. Construction underneath.”
“Shit.” I blinked. “You came up with that off the top of your head?”
“I was joking.”
“Joking?” I sputtered, my mind racing with the idea of it. “That’s a perfect logo. Especially in Los Angeles. Jesus, it would be like chum in the water.” All the bored, rich Hollywood housewives wanting to build their next house or an expansion on their huge mansion. They were actually the ones hiring and working with the contractors, while their husbands sat in an office, his name attached as some producer to a film.
“Don’t think you’re getting it for free.” She leaned in, nipping my lip. “There will be a heavy price tag.”
“Since I have no business yet, no money coming in, how do I pay off my bill?” My hand slid over her ass, pulling her into me. Already hard, my dick screamed to be inside her again.
“Hmmm… guess we’ll have to work out a payment plan.” Her voice was low and taunting in my ear; her leg hooked higher onto mine, her mouth claiming mine. “Might take a while to pay off. Like years.”
Shit!Tell her. She needs to know the truth. You’re being a spineless bastard.
“Kins…” I tipped away, breaking the kiss. Shit, was I going to do this? Would she understand or run as fast as she could, despising me?
“Shhh.” She pushed me on my back, crawling over me, straddling me, racing the blood straight to my already hard cock. “Too much talking.”
“And here I was trying to have a meaningful conversation with you.” I feigned hurt.
“Later.” She dragged her hips over me, my dick sliding through her folds, curving my head deeper into the pillow. “Right now, shut up while I ride you.”
Damn. Who was I to argue with that?
?
“Come on.” I reached for her hand crossing the street, dodging both the horse carriages full of tourists and the cars on Decatur Street, the prominent St. Louis Cathedral spiking up into the blue, hot summer sky behind us. “If I don’t feed you soon, I think your stomach will attack me like in Alien.” I winked over at her.
After another round of mind-blowing sex, we jumped into the shower, where her stomach started to demand nutrients. She only had half a po’boy, and we burned a shitload of calories last night.
It was late morning after a night of drinking and amazing sex, and there was only one place to go.
“It will.” Her fingers laced with mine as we jogged around the traffic. The smell of fried dough, coffee, and sugar had my stomach rumbling just as loud. “I wouldn’t risk it. It’s not pretty if it goes unfed.”
“Really?” I tugged her into me on the sidewalk. “Good thing I am about to fill it with the best beignets in the city.”
“Very lucky.” She went up on her toes, her mouth brushing mine.
If I expected awkwardness between us, I was wrong. It was so comfortable and natural with her, turning me into a guy I never imagined. Touchy, flirty, holding hands, and staring at her like a fool, knowing all I wanted to do was take her back to the room.
For fuck sake, I was smiling, and I wasn’t really a smiling kind of guy. But here I was, grinning like a giddy douchebag.
I had been with a lot of women, but very few were more than once, and most less than a few weeks before I was out the door, having no desire to go back. Even at eighteen with a goddess like Angie, I never got giddy or felt like this. With Kinsley, I wanted more, feeling I hadn’t even scratched the surface.
This woman was screwing with my head, and I knew it would only end one way.
You can tell her tonight. Let yourself enjoy the day.
The odd hour let us grab a table outside on the patio of Café Du Monde. Ordering us double beignets and café au laits, my legs stretched out under her chair, her smooth legs knocking against mine.
“After coming here, where did you go?” She leaned back in her chair, her long hair still damp and falling down her arms, her face bare and stunning. Really looking at her, I saw the young girl I used to know, but Kinsley had grown into such a gorgeous woman. Smart, strong, with a sense of humor like a whip. But it was far more than just looks. Beautiful women were a dime a dozen in LA. Before Becca I dated several models and actresses. None had me feeling like this. The girl had a power over me that scared the shit out of me. “Smith?”
“Oh. Sorry.” I shook my head, breaking my trance off her. “I went a lot of places, like Chicago, Denver, Seattle, and San Francisco where I met someone who lived in LA and told me to come visit.”
“A woman,” she teased.
I gave her a look.
“What? Am I wrong?”
“No.” I laughed, grabbing my glass of water, sipping it. “She was the one who showed me the spot in Joshua Tree, who took me to the art place. But that one was a mistake.”
“Why?”
“Crazy… but you know what they say? The truly unhinged ones tend to be magnificent in bed.” I nudged her calf, lifting an eyebrow.
“Oh really?” She leaned forward, her mouth twisting with a playful smile. “Unhinged, huh?”
“Total psycho.” I took another drink, eyeing her intently. “But damned if I can’t stop thinking about being inside her again.”
She sucked in sharply, her cheeks flaming with my insinuation.
“How are you doing today?” The waitress picked that exact moment to place down our food, making me chuckle at Kinsley, who was pretending she wasn’t flushed red from my declaration.
“Fine.” She forced a smile, grabbing for the coffee.
“Well, enjoy.” The waitress winked at me before taking off.
Kinsley snorted derisively, her head wagging.
“What?”
“Poor Smith… wanted by every woman he encounters.” She picked up a beignet. “Must be awful.”
“What? I was just sitting here innocently.”
“Nothing is innocent about you.”
Fuck if it wasn’t the truth.
Kinsley bit down, the powdered sugar billowing off the warm dough, a deep groan rumbled from her throat, going straight to my dick, her eyes rolling back in her head.
“Oh my god… This is sooooo good,” she moaned.
“Better stop that or I will be tossing you over my shoulder again and taking you back to the hotel,” I muttered. “Actually, it will be the bathroom here.”
“Soooo good.” She licked the sugar, provoking me, causing me to shift in my chair.
“Dammit, woman.” I grunted, swiping up a fried pillow and shoving the light fluffy dough in my mouth. “Oh god, I forgot how good these are.”
“See?” she exclaimed. “I think we should take an order of these back.” She coyly took another bite, filling my head with ideas of powdered sugar covering her body. This girl was going to kill me.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, drawing my attention away from her. My face scowled at seeing ten missed calls from Becca, two from Kasey, one from Kyle, and pissing me off even more was one from my dad’s sister, my aunt Meg. Since my dad’s funeral, the one she claimed she paid for, she had been contacting me, wanting “help.” They were cut from the same fucking cloth.
“Do I ask?” Her voice filled with uncertainty, her flirtiness vanishing in an instant.
“My dad’s sister.” My hand brushed through my hair with aggravation. I had never been close to her. Her popping into my life now was deliberate.
“What does she want?”
“Money,” I snipped.
“Oh. Do you talk to her much?”
“Not if I can help it.” I looked out at Jackson Square, resentment burning my throat. How fast my father’s family could shift my mood.
My father’s death was another “fuck you,” life screwing me even worse.
Growing up had been hell, but still, I carried the guilt of his death like a weight. What people saw on the outside was vastly different from what happened behind the scenes. After my mother died and we moved to North Kingston, we got a small but decent house. My father was manager of an electric company, which is where I learned how to wire buildings. He showed up to my football games, acted like a stand-up guy. To his friends and co-workers, Dan Blackburn was the salt of the earth, never missing a day of work, never complaining. Maybe he liked to drink, but really, who didn’t, right?
Well, the guy who had a few too many beers at the bar came home and realized his life was shit, his wife was dead, and his son would amount to nothing. Then he’d take his suppressed rage, self-hatred, and misery out on me. I took it, like I deserved it, until one day I hit back, having enough. From then on, I didn’t exist for him unless it was to tell me what a disappointment I was.
I spent more and more time at the Maxwell’s house where they actually liked and cared for each other. It didn’t matter if they drove each other nuts at the end of the day. They had parents who gave a shit, had food, a safe, warm home, and love. They had it so good, and they took it for granted. I resented and needed that family with the same force. The only thing that got me through besides the Maxwell home was the idea that the moment I graduated I was gone. Never to look back.
Four years after I left, my dad got hurt and went on disability, but the checks didn’t cover his growing drinking problem, the medicines, and the bills.
The old man still knew how to get to me, bringing up Mom. I deposited monthly into his account to pay for his medication and house bills, which he probably spent on booze. But when my life fell a part, the money stopped. Falling into debt, he chose alcohol over his medication. And he died.
I proved him right. My failure and guilt for his death grew over me like moss.
“Will you go visit his grave when you’re home?” Kinsley pulled back my focus. Sympathy was etched on her face. The Maxwell’s saw me enough with black eyes and broken ribs I’d blame on football, but they all knew. It was unspoken, but when Kay Maxwell would give me extra meatloaf and dessert, I knew it was her way of hugging me, telling me she was there.
“No.” I wagged my head.
She nodded. “If you change your mind, I will go with you.”
A reflex of anger lashed out, furrowing my eyebrows, my voice sharp and cold. “I don’t want or need your help or pity.”
“Good.” She held her ground against me, her voice challenging me. “I wasn’t giving you either.”
I stared at her.
“My friendship comes without pity, though support and compassion are always on offer.”
Fuck. I was more than a massive a-hole. Blowing out, I tapped my fist against the metal chair, my shoulders relaxing. This girl was utterly amazing. And in a blink, she knew how to whip my ass and put me in my place.
“Thank you,” I muttered.
“You’re welcome.” She went back to eating her third beignet. “Is it possible to live off these? Bathe in them?”
A smile twitched my mouth, Kinsley flipping my bad mood like a switch.
“Live? No.” I sat up, grabbing one off my pile. “But you naked in a bathtub with just these around you? Hell, yes.”
“Wonder how many we can take away?” Her eyes lit up with mischief.
“Fuck, girl, I really like how you think.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the French Quarter, playing tourist, investigating the tiny voodoo and art shops, getting silly souvenirs. She stopped at every band playing on Royal Street, dancing with kids and old men, drawing in more people and bewitching everyone around. Me most of all. She was carefree and relaxed, her dry humor shined even brighter.
We took goofy pictures, ate, drank, and enjoyed the afternoon, my hands never leaving her body for long. I had never laughed so much; my cheeks ached. It felt so good letting myself forget about the world outside of us. The day with her was the best I ever had.
But I should have known good things come with a price.
We walked through our hotel entrance, Kinsley’s hand in mine, the sun setting on the horizon. I was already mentally ripping her insignificant shorts from her body before we even got to our room, needing to be inside her like air. “Fuck, I can’t wait to have you on my tongue,” I muttered in her ear.
“Smith.” A figure rose from a table in the courtyard. Ice poured in my veins, her voice feeling like a bullet in my chest. Fuck no. Please. No.
My head jerked to the tall blonde, my mind and eyes wanting to reject what it saw. This can’t be happening.
Her hair was longer, and she definitely had a lot more Botox but was still unbelievably beautiful. Cold. Aloof. How did I not see there was nothing warm about her?
She wore a slim blue dress and heels, her straight blonde hair sleek like pure snow. Her parents were from Belgium, giving her a more European look—blue eyes, full lips, and high cheekbones, which had made me once a whipped fool. Her face and nails were painted to perfection, her designer bag sitting by her side like an obedient puppy.
“Becca?” I gaped, my head shaking in denial.
“Hi, sweetheart.” She took a step closer, paying no attention to Kinsley.
But I was. Her hand slipped from mine, her head going between us like a ping-pong match.
“Wh-what are you doing here?”
“I told you I would come for you. You wouldn’t see me otherwise.”
“How did you find me?”
“Private investigator. Tracked our phone call.”
“Private investigator?” I could hear my voice rise.
“You are being stubborn, like you can be. I had to. You gave me no choice.”
“How about not coming at all,” I growled.
“Smith.” She tilted her head, pleading. “Please. We have so much to talk about. I miss you so much. I know we can work this out. I love you.”
I felt Kinsley jerk next to me, taking a step back. I twisted for her, my hand reaching out. “Kins—”
“Kinsley Maxwell, right?” Becca cut me off, stepping up to Kinsley, her manicured hand reaching out.
“Ye-yeah.” Kins looked at me and back to her in confusion, not taking Becca’s hand. I knew Becca enough to know her private investigator found out every little detail of my trip, including who I was with.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Rebecca.” A false pleasant grin curved her red mouth, telling me my world was about to crumble.
The secrets of my past had final tracked me down.
“I’m Rebecca Blackburn. Smith’s wife.”