Chapter 27
SHAY
Aside from the drumming of my thumb on my car’s steering wheel—a relentless tat tat tat—my body seems to have disconnected from my brain. Move, I think, but my legs don’t twitch.
Kolton’s rental house is huge, the circular driveway I’m parked on something you’d find at a castle. The landscaping alone belongs in a botanical garden.
One minute passes.
Two minutes.
Five.
Ten.
The massive front door opens, the dark wood pulling back under soft lights that illuminate the wall’s detailed stonework. And Kolton. He leans his shoulder into the doorframe and crosses his arms. His hair hangs loose, brushing his shoulders.
He doesn’t move, and I still can’t move.
Earlier today, after Kolton had his kid shouting in front of the world about my G-spot (which, dear Lord, the man found), and before my life imploded at Sass and Style, I couldn’t wait for this moment. Finally, I’d put aside my bullshit and go out with Kolton. Have him for the summer.
This isn’t a date, though. He already offered me money to help me out. I’m pretty sure he’ll try that angle again, and shame has me frozen in place. But looking at him has my body on fire. Now he’s there and I’m here, but I continue gripping the steering wheel.
Who will I become if I let Kolton bail me out? Will I lose myself again, dependent on another man? Get snowballed into his life? His world?
Or will I stay a snowflake?
Probably tired of waiting, he pushes off the doorframe and takes long strides toward me. His jeans hug his hips, his bare feet sure on the interlocked stone. When he gets to my car, he leans his elbows on the open window. I barely refrain from touching his toned arms.
“Hey.” He brushes a loose curl from my forehead.
“Hey,” I say. One breathy syllable.
“When I said I wanted to talk, I didn’t mean in your car.”
“Thanks, Fabio. I’m just using my GPS to figure out how to find the front door amid all the elaborate shrubbery.”
He hums to himself. “If you don’t come out, I’m coming in.”
I release the steering wheel in defeat. “Back away, then. Wouldn’t want your hair to get caught in the door when I close it.”
His rumbling laugh fills the night air. And my chest. “Noted, Connor. But I distinctly remember a certain woman’s hands enjoying this hair.”
More than he knows, but I’m too jumpy to play nice. Shoving the door with my elbow, I rack my brain, needing to match his obscure nickname, which I don’t understand, with one of my own.
Eighties hair bands and my brother’s first Guns N’ Roses album comes to mind. “You certainly have a keen memory, Axl. The details you hold onto are impressive. Are you one of those idiot savants? And who the hell is Connor?”
Another laugh. “More idiot than savant. And if you don’t know who Connor is, you aren’t watching the right movies.”
“I watch cinema. You watch trash.” Squinting, I rack my brain for the movie reference, so I can defend myself against whatever fun he’s poking. Connor. Connor.
Damn him and his cryptic self.
I get out of the car, and Kolton barely backs up. Barely gives me space. His warm brown eyes are heavy on me, passing over my breasts, my hips, then my legs in the short shorts I put back on in my apartment.
“I came here to talk, Bon Jovi. Stop with the sexy looks.”
Not backing away, he watches me a breath longer, knowing I’m full of crap. Knowing I won’t be able to stay away from him tonight. Then he says, “If I’d known about your shit taste in music, Connor, I would’ve made a mix tape and bought you a Walkman.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “That would’ve been awesome. You can thank my hillbilly brother for my love of cheesy eighties rock.”
He nods. “Noted. Come on. Let’s go inside.”
Stepping away from me, he heads for his mansion, and I pause, enjoying my unimpeded view of his tight ass. Suppressing a moan, I follow him inside.
A massive chandelier hangs above the large vestibule, and a Persian carpet is spread over the marble floor below it.
In my mind, I break up the cream walls with sections of wood, swapping the ornate trim with clean lines.
The elaborate front bench lowers, taking on a geometric, Japanese simplicity, lime accents on a cushion, bamboo lining one of the walls.
Kolton waits at the base of a spiral staircase and juts his chin toward the second floor.
“Stella and Jackson sleep upstairs, and there’s another spare room up there.
As well as three bedrooms in the lower level.
I sleep in a room on the main floor, on the other side of the kitchen.
I got you some food. We can talk while you eat. ”
My motor skills cease again, all but my hammering heart. His room. Will we end up in there tonight? Will I finally see all his manly perfection in the flesh?
I follow him into the kitchen, where he has, of course, laid out one of my favorite meals.
“Am I this predictable?” I ask, eyeing the mushroom-stuffed chicken breast next to the Anton’s bag—the restaurant I mentioned loving a week ago.
“I just pay attention to things I’m interested in.” He walks close and reaches around me, pushing something out from behind the takeout bag.
No, he didn’t.
The masterpiece that is the cookie dough cupcake has me salivating: vanilla cake filled with fudge, garnished with cookie-dough frosting and a chocolate chip cookie.
Sex disguised as cake.
I groan at the sight of its perfection, and Kolton is on me in seconds.
His mouth swallows my sounds, which are getting louder. And louder. So much for talking. Or breathing. I’ve relived my moments with him countless times, but the real thing…
He drags his hands all over my body as he presses my back into the island countertop, then he lifts me onto the stool and nudges my legs open for him. Like they need the assistance.
His lips are soft but firm, demanding more from me. Devouring me. “Shay,” he murmurs.
“Kolton,” I answer, my head tipping back as he sucks a line down my neck.
How I managed to put off his advances is a mystery. His jeans are barely containing him, the hard line of his cock pressing insistently between my thighs. I grab a fistful of his hair and force his lips back to my mouth. He tastes like sugar and cake and…cookies?
I pull my head back. “Did you eat a cupcake?”
He tries to kiss me again, but I turn my face away. He palms my ass and rubs his raging hard-on against the soft flesh scarcely covered by my short shorts and underwear. Wow. When my eyes refocus, I notice Jackson’s backpack from earlier today. Jackson’s books. With more force, I push Kolton away.
“What?” he says, his voice gruff.
“What?” I repeat, straightening my top. “Let’s see…we haven’t talked yet, and I’m pretty sure your son is upstairs, along with your assistant, who could both walk down here at any moment. And I have it on good authority you ate one of my cupcakes. That’s what.”
His jaw works back and forth. “Whose authority?”
“Your tongue’s. I’d know that taste anywhere, Fabio, and I don’t share cupcakes.”
“Maybe I need to be punished.” A wicked grin lights his face.
I narrow my eyes and point to the ceiling. “There are people here,” I hiss. “Do you have no shame?”
“Jackson’s asleep and Stella’s probably passed out, too.
She had a long tattoo session today. But if you want me to keep my hands off you, I suggest not making those moaning sounds when you see junk food.
Not even a breathy hum. I’m on a tightrope with you, and those noises of yours push me over the edge. ”
Sounds? I make breathy sounds? “Don’t put your lack of self-control on me.”
He steps closer, and I almost reach for him. “I also suggest not arguing with me. When I say I’m close to snapping, I’m not fucking around. I’ll stay away from you…for now. Just know it won’t be easy.” He inhales deeply, as if scenting me, then strides around to the opposite side of the island.
He leans his elbows on the counter, and I focus on the food.
Chicken. Potatoes. Cookie dough cupcake.
When I realize I’d rather taste the remnants of that perfect dessert on Kolton’s tongue than eat one myself, the situation I’m in becomes clear: Some naked Twister will be played tonight.
First, I need to eat. Then, we need to talk.
And then, Lord Jesus, I need to release the caged beast eyeing me from the other side of the island.
He pours me a glass of wine and takes a beer for himself.
As I dig into my meal, he says, “Talk.”
“Just like that? Talk?”
“Just like that. What happened? How’d your financial troubles get this far?”
I push the food around my plate, no longer so hungry.
“I told you about Richard.” He nods, so I go on, “After Aspen, I needed to get my life together—needed to find myself again and feel in control. Especially because I gave up a great promotion when I was with him, which I still hugely regret, and ended up designing retirement homes. Not a word, Fabio,” I say as his mouth opens.
He holds up his hands in surrender and refrains from spewing whatever teasing comment was on the tip of his tongue.
“Anyway,” I continue, “I was gung-ho about quitting and did it before I had something lined up. Add a ridiculous credit card bill from my trip, and cash was leaving faster than it was coming in. I had trouble making rent. And”—I glare at Kolton—“some people have said I can be a bit strong-willed.”
“Stubborn as fuck,” he chimes in.
I ignore him. “I didn’t want to ask for money from anyone.
My folks get by, but they’re not exactly rolling in cash.
Raven’s still paying off her school loans.
That left Lily, but every time I opened my mouth to ask for help, I felt sick.
So I got both jobs—the internship to build my future, the retail gig to put some cash in my pocket—but it wasn’t enough. ”
“And you kept putting the problem off?” Kolton asks, no longer teasing. There’s concern in his tone.
I nod. “I knew I’d be evicted soon, but I kept thinking some miracle would happen, like an amazing commission at Sass and Style.
Then I had to give up shifts to focus on your project, and Angela just found out her sister’s having surgery.
Nothing serious, but she needs to help her out and can’t keep covering for me.
She’s hiring someone more reliable. Now there’s no way I’ll make my rent. ”
He tips his beer back and swallows. “How long?”
“How long until what?”
“Until you’re evicted.”
“Twelve days.”
He leans forward on his elbows again, but this time he’s staring at the countertop. He swallows, chews his lip a moment, then he looks up and says, “Move in with me, Shay.”