Kinsley orders the shrimp fajitas and I order the steak ones. The waiter nods at us before taking our menus and heading off to the back. We both sit in silence again.
“You know what I just realized?” Kinsley startles me with her question.
“What’s that?” I take a swig of water.
She shifts to cross her legs and looks at me. “We never got to finish our game of twenty questions.”
“Yeah, I guess we got . . . distracted.” I smirk and raise my eyebrows. “Still have some burning questions for me, Ms. Moore?”
“Maybe a couple.”
“For you, I’m an open book.”
She pauses, collecting her thoughts. “Are you still sleeping with other women?”
We’re not going to beat around the bush with bullshit, I see. Good.
“Since we . . . ? No.”
I swear I see her visibly relax at my answer.
Suddenly I get very protective. “Why? Are you still seeing other guys?” The thought never occurred to me, but it instantly makes me want to punch someone in the throat.
She looks at me with sincere eyes. “No.”
Thank fucking goodness.
It’s my turn to relax back into the chair. I don’t know what the rules should be, but I do know the thought of Kinsley with anybody else makes me fucking crazy.
The discomfort must show on my face, because Kinsley teases, “Why, you wouldn’t be jealous, would you Mr. Graham?”
“Hell yeah, I would.” I tease back to break some of the intensity of the thought of her with another guy. “Is that OK with you?”
Kinsley sits back and shrugs. The way she subtly furrows her brow in confusion has me quickly following up with “It’s just a guy thing. We don’t like to share.” I smile, trying to keep things light.
But the really big shocker? I never get jealous. Ever. As I said, the girls I was with in the past were just warm bodies, only there for companionship, as harsh as that may sound. Even with Chelsea, I didn’t obsess over what she did or her being with other guys. In the insanely short amount of time I’ve known Kinsley, though, I can’t not think about her and what she’s doing every single waking minute.
Our food gets delivered to the table, which is enough of a distraction to change the course of the current conversation. Two sizzling plates are put before us. Kinsley eyes hers with a look of pure anticipation that is cute as shit.
“This looks so good!” She practically moans.
“You won’t be disappointed.” I grab my knife and fork. “I love that the food here is so authentic, and you can count on it to always taste good. My parents and I used to come every Friday night. It’s tradition.”
Kinsley is busy piling shrimp and peppers and onions onto her tortilla before she loads it with guacamole and sour cream. “Both your parents?”
“Yeah.” I nod, taking a forkful of my own meal.
Kinsley glances up at me as if expecting more, so I chance continuing. “Before my mom got sick, it was our family night. It was always really important to her.”
Other than having to explain that she died when I was young, I’ve never talked about my mom to any girl I’ve met, friend or otherwise. But something about Kinsley makes me want to tell her everything. It’s not lost on me what a big fucking deal it is that I brought her here, to our family place, on a Friday night. My dad and I still come here together every week, and when he’s away I come by myself.
Kinsley seems lost in thought. I wonder if that was too much to admit for our circumstances, but then she quietly says, “Sounds like she was very special.”
“She was.” I decide to go for broke. “As I said, I’ve never seen two people more in love than her and my dad. They drove each other crazy, but in the best way possible. She was always coming up with these ridiculous activities for them to do together, like tandem bicycle riding or cheese making or some shit. She said it kept things exciting.” I smile at the memory of my dad on the back of a two-rider bike.
“Somehow I both can and can’t picture your dad doing those things,” she says with an amused giggle.
“Well he usually complained the whole way through, but he did them. If it made my mom happy, he would do just about anything. Although I suspect he secretly enjoyed it.”
“What did she do for a living, your mom?”
“She was an artist . . . a painter. I used to hang with her out at the cottage while she worked, drawing in my own notebooks trying to copy whatever it was she was doing.”
Kinsley stops eating and her eyes go big and wide. “The cottage was your mom’s?” It comes out as a small whisper of a question. Then she realizes the real kicker. “And those are her paintings.”
She states it as if there is no question, but I confirm anyway. “Yeah. She said she needed a separate space to be creative in and that it was the perfect place. Like something out of a fairy tale. After she died my dad and I decided to hold onto it, but kept it empty for years. Dad always got offers but was never interested in giving it up. That’s why I was surprised he told me out of the blue he rented it to some smart, young business owner. He thinks you’re really special, Kins, and I have to say, I’m glad it’s you who’s finally using that place again.” From the way she looks genuinely touched I can tell it means a lot to her.
And the fact that she cares so much for a couple of unfinished paintings means a lot to me. More than she will ever know.
She shakes her head and busies herself with pushing food around on her plate. “No pressure or anything, right?” She looks up with a shy expression on her beautiful face.
I smile back. “No, none at all.”
We both chuckle and since things seem to be going well, even though it’s getting more personal, I decide to really press my luck.
I clear my throat. “So what about your parents? What did they do?” I ask offhandedly and continue to eat so my full attention isn’t focused on her, thinking it might be easier for her to answer if she isn’t completely put on the spot.
She stares at her fork. “My dad was a salesman. He travelled a lot. My mom did some odd jobs to keep busy, but never really had a career.”
While not exactly giving me much to go on, I try to keep her talking. “Sales, huh? Is that where you got your business sense from?”
She looks sad, and I feel like I said something wrong.
“Um, maybe.” She picks up a bite of food. “Hey, how did your meetings go today?” She shoves the fork in her mouth, and it’s clear the topic of her family is no longer up for discussion.
I lean back, trying to assess what exactly made her shut down so quickly. But I also don’t want to make her feel bad about it, so I tell her they went well and launch into a story about Logan trying to hit on the girl who delivered our food, which makes her laugh.
The rest of the conversation stays light, mostly small talk about things like if my dad is enjoying his trip and how business is going with Petal. Neither of us finish our food, and when the waiter comes to bring us the check I slip my credit card in with the receipt to pay. Kinsley tries to protest as she starts to take her wallet out of her purse, but I quickly shove the little black holder into the waiter’s hands.
“I should at least pay half. Friends split bills, right?” Kinsley says with a questioning glance.
“Sorry, babe. When I ask you out, that means it’s on me.” Gentleman, remember?
The look on her face is a mixture of confusion and distraction before she mumbles a soft “Thank you.” Despite not wanting to talk about her family, she seems different tonight. More vulnerable, a little less guarded or something. She’s at least showing interest in getting to know more about me, which is some sort of progress. I like seeing another side of her. So far I’ve thoroughly enjoyed every single side of her that I’ve had the pleasure of exploring.
The waiter brings back my credit card and the receipt as Kinsley finishes off the last of her water. “So, what now?” she asks as I finish signing my name.
/> Good friggin’ question.
I’m not sure what she means or what she wants, but I figure it’s a good chance to go for it. I’m not ready to call it a night yet. “Do you want to come over to my place?” I ask, perhaps a little too hopefully.
Thankfully she returns a big smile. “I’d like that.”
Kinsley
If I thought I was nervous before dinner, then now I’m a complete wreck. I’ve never been to Lucas’ apartment before, and after all the stuff I have to process after our dinner conversation, his car suddenly seems cramped. It’s too small for both of us and all of my thoughts.
I’m glad I at least had the courage to ask him straight out about seeing other people. I’m not sure how I want to feel about his answer, but relief and skepticism are both definitely mixed in there. I convince myself it’s because I don’t have to worry about catching some weird STD or anything, although part of me doesn’t even believe he’s being completely honest. But, hey, at least I asked.
And even if I didn’t fully broach the subject of my past, I let him talk about his. I’m taking some comfort he still seems to trust me. Plus, I genuinely enjoyed learning more about his family. Hearing that Lucas and Eli let me rent the cottage when it meant so much to Lucas’ mom? Talk about feeling your heart skip a beat! And it’s got to mean something that he shared his special family tradition with me, right? Maybe he’s ready to let go of his past. Which, I remind myself, would mean our little arrangement will be over a lot sooner than I had originally anticipated.
I’m overcome by an overwhelming feeling of sadness at the thought, but I force myself to shake it off.
No, this is what is best for Lucas. And you.
By the time we pull into the garage of one of the more luxurious apartment complexes in town, I’ve regained some of my composure.
“Wow. I’m in the wrong business. This parking lot is nicer than most apartments I’ve lived in.” I try to manage a light chuckle as I get out of the car, but I think it comes out as more of a rather unattractive snort.
Lucas comes around the side of the car and places his hand on the small of my back as he leads me through a set of doors to a large, fancy elevator. “I bought this apartment when we landed our first big client. I thought I was cool as shit. Turns out it’s really just a complex full of people who are trying to overcompensate.”
“Oh, yeah? And what are you overcompensating for?” I let my eyes roam down to his crotch, then look back up to him and raise a teasing eyebrow.
He looks at me with a smug, panty-dropping grin. “We both know it’s definitely not that.”
I want to make some sort of joke to wipe that look off his face, but damn it if he isn’t right. I end up just shrugging my shoulders, avoiding his gaze as we ride the rest of the way up to the twelfth floor.
Lucas unlocks his door and motions for me to step inside. To the right is a spacious kitchen that looks like it actually gets used. Fresh fruits and veggies sit in a big bowl in the center of a large island, and a glass-doored fridge showcases that it’s stocked with more healthy looking food. Beyond the kitchen is a large living room with two leather couches and floor to ceiling windows on the far side. You can see the entire town lit up. There is a black dining table nestled to the left, and I can see two hallways leading off to both the left and the right.
I wonder which way Lucas’ bedroom is . . .
“Can I get you anything to drink?” Lucas’ voice snaps me from my lustful thoughts.
“I’m good, but thank you. I like your place,” I say as I look around once again, this time trying to take in every detail.
For as big and modern as it is, the apartment still somehow feels very warm and comfortable, not cold or sterile. There are small touches that make it feel like a real home. In the living room there is a large gallery wall of family photos and paintings, each meticulously framed and hung. I recognize Eli and Ryan in a few of the photographs, and I see the same woman in many of the pictures. “Is this your mom?” I ask, leaning in to examine her features. Lucas has the same eyes.
“That’s her.” Lucas places his keys on the island in the center of the kitchen and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. He leans back against the counter and takes a large sip before setting it down on the surface next to him.
He continues to watch me take it all in. I walk over and stand in front of him grabbing his water and taking my own long drink.
“I thought you said you were good?” He grins at me as he tilts his head to the side.
“I am.” I place the water back down where it was. “So, Mr. Graham, now that you’ve got me here, what are you going to do with me?” I tease.
He chuckles and shakes his head while grabbing my hips to pull me closer. He takes a deep breath, leaning his forehead against mine. “What are we doing here, Kins?” He whispers in a more serious tone.
I gently press my hands to his chest, trying to push away but simultaneously needing to hold onto something. I hesitantly look up to his face, a little afraid of what I’ll see. I want to help him, but I also don’t want to lose him.
“We’re being friends.” I stare at him, hoping my face appears as calm and collected as I’m trying to keep it.
He looks straight back at me. “I’m trying real hard to just be your friend, Kinsley. Except I—”
Before he can get another word out, I press my lips hungrily to his. I don’t know what he plans to say, but I know I’m not ready to hear it.
He kisses me back just as wild. I feel some sense of relief that we’re still us.
Kissing Lucas never ceases to amaze me. It’s as if he can always tell exactly what I need, when I need it. Until him, I never realized how much I appreciate feeling like I have someone to look after me, someone to be there. There is a part of me that wants so badly to just give in and open up every last part of myself to this beautiful man before me, but then there is the part of me that is programmed to put up walls. The part of me that knows nothing but pain and the part of me that fears I will eventually lose all of the people I try to love.
This is easier. This is what we’re good at.
His hands tangle in my hair as he walks me back a few steps toward the dining room table. Thinking he’s going to take me right here in the kitchen, I start to scoot back to rest on the edge of the table, but before I know it I’m being scooped up into Lucas’ strong arms and he’s heading down the hall closest to us.
“Not tonight, babe. As much fun as I have with you on desks and against walls, I think it’s about time we tried doing it in a bed for once.”
I giggle. “If you insist.”
His eyes get serious as he gently places me on a soft, king-sized bed. The lamps are off, but the city lights beyond the big window are enough to provide a romantic glow. “Yes, I do,” he says in that sexy, seductive bedroom voice of his.
He leans down and kisses me, much softer and sweeter than before, but still just as passionate. His lips move slowly down my neck as he begins undressing me. He first pushes off my sweater, placing a soft kiss to each shoulder. He continues to rain kisses down my chest as he undoes my belt, then reaches to pull my dress over my head. Laying on his bed in my pink lace bra, matching underwear, black garter belt, and thigh high stockings, he pauses and stares at me. While he’s seen me with far less clothes on, I’ve never felt so exposed. “God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he whispers as he reaches back down to run his hands up my sides. I crave how he looks like he can’t get enough of me. I get off feeling like I can make him react that way.
I arch into his touch and pull him closer to me. Who am I kidding? I’m the one who can’t get enough. He continues to kiss me all over as he works to unbutton his shirt and push off the rest of his clothes. Now naked, I can see exactly just how turned on he is. He takes his time unclipping my stockings and sliding my panties down my legs, then off comes the garter. He moves his fingers behind my back to unclasp my bra and soon I am completely bare before him as he stares at me hungr
ily.
I’m ready to beg him to jump on top of me when he kneels down and grabs my hips to pull my ass to the edge of the bed. He keeps one hand at my side, gently caressing from my hip to my ribcage, while the other makes its way between my legs. He slowly traces every bit of my skin to the point of madness before I feel his soft, warm, wet lips on me. His tongue expertly glides over my clit, while his fingers tease just below. Right before I feel like I could combust from desire, he plunges two fingers deep inside me and works them in a gratifying tempo, all while using that amazing mouth to bring me over the edge. I’m pretty sure I cry out—loudly—in pleasure, and I’m pretty sure I don’t care. I’ve never been able to let go so completely before, and something tells me it has more to do with the man between my legs than holding back of my own volition. Lucas has a way of making me come apart, in every sense.
He makes sure I have a minute to breathe as he resumes placing soft kisses to my inner thigh. Not wanting to wait any longer, I grab his shoulders in an attempt to pull him up toward me. Despite the intense orgasm I just had, something within me still needs more, and I know it’s an emptiness only Lucas can fill. I want to feel him in and around me. I want to be completely consumed by him. I feel bad that I must seem so frantic when he’s been nothing but slow and gentle with me tonight, but I’m afraid if I don’t hold on now everything that’s happened between us will float away and disappear as if it never happened.
“Please, Luc, I need you,” I whisper before kissing him hard and deep.
He must sense my desperation, because he reaches up to cup my cheek and kisses me right back before saying “I’m here, babe.”
The next thing I know Lucas is covered and pushing inside me, and I know I’ve never felt more whole in my entire life.
Lucas
Being with Kinsley tonight is different. I’ve never had such a strong desire to go slow and take my time to worship anybody. As corny and bullshit as it might sound, she’s my fucking dream girl. Hell, just having her in my bed is a fantasy come to life. Ever since I laid eyes on her half naked body . . . well let’s just say she’s starred in a lot of morning . . . ahem . . . solo performances.
Crazy Beautiful (Crazy Beautiful #1) Page 9
