Temptation

by Robin Covington

“My mom doesn't get any visitors other than her doctor.” She looked over at me in the gloom¸ her fingers tensing under my own. “You’ll see.”

  The door to the house opened and a woman in her mid–fifties with dark blonde hair and glasses stepped into the opening, motioning us inside. I jumped out and hurried over to Kit, helping her out of the car and noticing her try and hide the wince when she moved. She wouldn't let me call Shannon but I’d check her over later.

  “Katie,” the woman called out when she pulled Kit into a total body hug. Kit wrapped her own arms around her neck and they stood there for a few moments. From the shaking of her shoulders, I could tell Kit was crying and I could do nothing but stand by in impotent rage and hope I got the chance to beat the living shit out of Ron. It would be worth the loss of my career to see that guy bloody.

  “Hey. Hey.” The older woman pulled out of the embrace, looking down at Kit with eyes and cheeks damp. “Why don't you introduce me to this guy? You’ve never brought a bodyguard before. Is it that bad?”

  Kit chuckled and shook her head, wiping her fingers under her eyes before turning to me. “Max this is Lilah Pierce, my mom’s nurse. This is Max. He’s…”

  “I’m her boyfriend,” I answered, focusing on Lilah so I missed the reaction on Kit’s face. I didn’t need to see it, I’m sure it matched the answering hammering of my heart in my chest. I couldn't believe how easily the word had slipped out and I didn't know why I said it. Boyfriend status was something that was granted, not taken, and we had not talked about it. But I took the slide of Kit’s hand into my own as silent agreement to this step in whatever direction we were headed.

  “She’s having a good day. We had lunch a little while ago and she’ll have a nap in about an hour.” Lilah cut a glance to me. “I think she’ll be okay with a new face today. You might want to read to her.”

  I followed both down a hallway into an open kitchen and sitting area to a covered, bricked patio. The area was partially shaded from the sun and protected from anyone’s view by a high privacy fence. There was a seating area and on one of the two sofa sat Elizabeth Landry, Kit’s mother.

  She looked older than she was, hair mostly gray and pulled back in a ponytail. Thin with slumped posture, her skin was rough and looked like she’d spent way too many hours in the sun without sunscreen. When she looked up at saw Kit, the smile was warm and a little shy.

  Kit let go of my hand and walked over to her mom and sat down but she didn’t reach out to hug her right away. She sat still, hands on her lap while she spoke softly to the woman who had given birth to her twenty–one years ago.

  “Elizabeth doesn't always like to be touched.” Lilah explained beside me. “It might take a few moments for her to warm up to Katie being here.”

  “Is it because of the stroke?”

  “Yes. Her reaction to touch, noise, food all varies according to the day. I could give a long medical explanation but the bottom line is that her brain was fried by the abuse it took and now it just doesn’t work right. We aren’t sure how she will react and sometimes it can be violent so we normally don’t initiate it.” Lilah motioned for me to sit down at the table with her, both of us pulling up chairs. We watched Kit and her mom, the older woman now resting a hand on her daughter’s knee listening as Kit read the child’s book in her hand.

  “Why do you call her Katie?” I asked the first thing that came to mind, needing to understand this whole situation better.

  “That’s what her mother calls her. Her given name is Katherine,” Lilah said. “Kit is her stage name.”

  I wondered what else I didn’t know about the woman I’d fallen for. Judging from her announcement at the press conference it was quite a lot.

  I sat there watching them for half an hour, Kit reading a book my three year old niece knew by heart while her mom giggled and laughed and chanted back her favorite parts. Kit would end the book and Elizabeth would beg for her to read it “one more time” which Kit would do right away.

  It was sweet and heartbreaking. Here Kit was, once again taking care of one more person in her life. Once again the question popped into my mind: Who took care of Kit?

  It would be me. I was the one who could do it.

  Lilah rose from her chair and walked over to them. “It's time for you to lie down, Elizabeth.”

  They both looked up at her, the disappointment of having their time ended as clear as the blue Tennessee summer sky. They both stood to say their goodbyes.

  “Bye Mama. I’ll see you next week.”

  “You read to me again?” Elizabeth asked, her concern genuine and earnest. “You read to me?”

  “Yes, Mama. I’ll read to you.”

  They both stood there and even from where I sat, I could see Kit’s entire body leaning forward, willing her mother to embrace her. Pleading with her to allow a touch. I held my breath, sending up my own prayers that Kit would get the touch she so clearly craved.

  It wasn't happening today. Elizabeth turned to Lilah and smiled, shuffling off into the house with her nurse close behind her. Kit watched them go, her arms wrapped around her body as if to chase away a chill.

  I walked up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. She spun around and launched herself at me the sobs wracking her body. I stood firm and strong, a wall built for her to rail against, to push against as she fought to exorcise these demons.

  I rubbed her back, kissing her hair and the skin over her temple as she calmed down.

  “I’m sorry for falling apart like that,” she mumbled against my chest. “I’m sorry.”

  “After the day you’ve had you deserve to let it all out. I’m here. Do what you need to.”

  “I won’t…” She stuttered over her words. Clearing her throat and beginning again. “The way she is… I won't be like that. It’s not her illness, it was the stroke from the overdose. I’m sick but… but that isn’t…”

  Jesus. She was worried about that?

  “Kit, I couldn't care less if that was how you would end up. I want you. We’d figure it out together.”

  She didn’t answer and I could feel the tension in her body as she thought about it, analyzed whether it was realistic for the long term. Icould withstand the scrutiny. I could prove I wasn’t going anywhere if I had to.

  We stood still for a while as I held her, neither of us speaking. There wasn’t much to be said. This situation sucked all the way around and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it—except give her an escape.

  It was time to take Kit home with me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY–EIGHT

  Max

  “Kit, it’s all clear.”

  I glanced over to where she was crouched on the floorboard of the car. Eight years on the job at NFD had come in handy. I knew the city like the back of my hand and the crisscross of little known backstreets and shortcuts had enabled me to get her away from the press. A glance into the rearview mirror confirmed that no one was behind us as we entered the Lively city limits.

  Kit maneuvered into the seat and groaned as she stretched her limbs. She rubbed her and winced in pain.

  I’ll kill that guy if he hurt her.

  “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want a doctor?”

  Kit winced again as her fingers touched a tender spot. “No. I’m fine.”

  “My cousin, Robert, is a doctor and he lives nearby. I can call him.”

  “No, I’m okay. Just a little sore.” As I turned off the road and on to a private lane marked “Butler Farm”, Kit leaned forward to peer out the front window. “Is this your farm?”

  “Partially. I bought the land with my cousins Robert and Amy two years ago from my Grandpa Butler.” I pointed towards a lane that led to a modern house. “Robert built that for himself and Amy’s husband farms her part.” I turned the car down a long, tree–lined driveway that led into a clearing where a large white farmhouse stood surrounded by roses. I pulled to a stop at the steps that led to the wide, wraparound porch before turning to Kit with a
grin. “I bought the house and 10 acres. Stay where you are and I’ll help you out.”

  I jumped out of the car and rushed around to meet her. She ignored my order and emerged, disheveled, but steady on her feet, with her shoes in her hands and her torn jacket thrown over her arm. Kit stopped abruptly and looked at the house and the yard with wide eyes.

  “Max. It’s beautiful! I expect the Waltons to come out any minute!”

  I chuckled as I led her up the steps to the front door. “I wish. I could use John Boy’s help with the heavy lifting.” At her perplexed expression I guided her through the door, explaining, “I’m renovating.”

  I watched her face as she entered and viewed the interior of my house for the first time. I kept the architectural details intact, but removed some walls and put in large banks of windows to let in the sunlight. From the front door, were the original maple floors as they led through the open family room and kitchen anchored by a large stone fireplace.

  I led her into the kitchen before I asked, “Do you like it?”

  Her smile gave away her answer. “This is gorgeous. It’s amazing.”

  I didn’t try to hide my pride as I showed off my home. “I do what I can as I get the money and I bribe the guys at the fire house with beer and burgers to help me out. I’m done with renovating the back rooms. I enclosed the back porch with glass to make it a three–season room but I still need to work on the living room, study, and dining room.” I motioned towards a large staircase. “It has five bedrooms upstairs—four now—I took a small one and made it into a master bath and walk–in closet.”

  I was babbling. I shut up and brought her hand up to my chest. “I should’ve brought you here sooner.”

  I understood why I hadn’t. Bringing Kit here meant I couldn’t ignore my feelings for her. Now, with Kit standing in my home, I could see a future with her in this house. In my life.

  I saw all of the emotions swirling in Kit’s eyes—fear, vulnerability, desire and an emotion I hoped I wasn’t misreading. Stay with me. Make this place a home. The house was silent except for the sound of the grandfather clock ticking in the hall and our heavy breathing. I reached out and grasped her waist, pulling her close. She melted against me as I cupped her face and leaned in to sample the sweetness of her mouth.

  I don’t know I ever thought I could give this up.

  I brushed my lips softly against hers, barely a promise of a kiss before I pulled back. My hesitation was met by a whimper from Kit as her hands laced through my hair and pulled me back to her mouth. My first real taste of her was electric. The slide of velvet tongues flamed my passion and I angled my mouth over hers possessively—the pressure on my cut lip making me wince.

  Kit pulled back, her lips wet from my assault but her eyes full of concern. “You’re hurt.” Her thumb brushed over my injury gently and that touch made me feel like a million dollars. “You’re bleeding. Let me clean that up.”

  I tightened my hold on her as she tried to pull away. “I’m fine.”

  She cupped my face between her palms, her voice low. “Let me take care of you.”

  I nodded and led her to the family room. Sitting her down on the couch, I retrieved the first aid kit from the kitchen and returned to sit down beside her. I soaked Kit in as she busied herself with pulling out the necessary items with her small, slender fingers. She refused to meet my gaze, her face a mask of concentration as she swabbed and cleaned my lip with careful motions. Content just to have her near, I took the time to gaze at the face I’d missed so much. Even tired from the events of the past few days, she was still the most gorgeous girl I’d ever seen.

  “I think you’ll live.” Her eyes traveled over my face and down my body looking for signs of another injury. She “tskd” when she spied my knuckles, scraped raw and a little bloody from hitting Ron. She smiled as she cleaned the abrasions. “It must have felt good to finally hit the weasel.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, it did. He was asking for it.” My tone sobered as I continued. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to stop him before he hurt you. I’m sorry I let you down. That I hurt you.”

  Kit dipped her head, hiding her face from my inspection while she silently busied herself with applying the ointment. Her motions stilled as she sighed and brought my hand up to rest against her wet cheek.

  I cupped her chin and tipped her face up until I could see the tears. “Kit. Baby, don’t cry. You’re killing me.”

  Her violet eyes were darkened with confusion and pain and I held onto her hand, anxious to keep the physical connection.

  “Max. This is so… I… I just need to know what you want.”

  What did I want? That was easy.

  Her.

  “What do I want? I want to stop missing you. I want to stop looking for bits of paper with lyrics on them showing up in my pockets. I want to stop thinking of that stupid frog when I hear a Merle Haggard song. I want to hear your songs on the radio and know they’re about me.” I leaned in closer, my hands gripped her shoulders, lips only a breath away from hers, and our eyes locked. “I want you in my bed. In this house. In my life. Underneath me. Around me. I want my name on your lips as you come apart all over me.”

  My hands clenched with need as I pressed a brief kiss against her mouth before saying the thing I never thought I would ever say again.

  “I want you to tell me that you love me because I love you and I honestly don’t know how to live without you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY–NINE

  Kit

  He loved me.

  Max loved me and wanted me. I was breathless and I took a deep breath to calm my erratically beating heart as I inched closer and pressed my mouth against his.

  “I love you, Max.”

  His arms slid around me and pulled me close, groaning in his chest as he swept inside my mouth with his tongue. More. All of you. I wove my fingers into his hair anchoring him in place for my greedy mouth. It had been too long. We scrambled against each other—desperate to feel skin against skin, soft curves against hard angles.

  I was hungry for him, reaching under his shirt, rucking it up to lift it from his body. I needed to see him, to feel him. I trembled and Max hissed into my hair at the first touch of my palms against the sleek, heated skin of his abdomen and around to the muscled expanse of his back.

  “Baby, you always make me feel so good.” Max breathed the words against my cheek before he savagely reclaimed my mouth. “Let me make you feel good. You know how much I love to see you come.”

  His words made me shudder as his calloused hands covered my breasts, rubbing my nipples until they hardened underneath the silk of my dress. With one hand, he tunneled under my hair and unfastened the halter top, letting it fall down to expose me to the burn of his gaze and the rough caress of his hands.

  “Make me come. Please.” I wanted nothing more than to lose myself in him, in how he could make me feel. Max could make all of the crap of the twenty–four hours go away and I needed the oblivion. I needed him.

  I moaned and arched upwards as he took a nipple in his mouth, sucking and nibbling on it until it was hard and sensitized to the point of pleasure/pain.

  It was almost too much. I was slick between my legs, clenching them together in search of what he offered, what I knew he could deliver. I tugged him up my body but he refused to let me control this lovemaking.

  “Kit. I need to fuck you. I need to know you’re mine.”

  “I’m yours.”

  “Yes. You are.”

  His look was feral, his movements rough as he lifted me up, unzipping my dress and pushing it down and off my body. I shivered as he stripped off my thong, and blazed a trail down my body with his lips and teeth—nipping and laving my skin, stopping only to push me back on to the couch and expose my nakedness to his gaze.

  I was possessed. Taken. Like every touch and every look branded me as his.

  For as long I remembered, I’d wanted to belong to someone and now I did.

  He watched me as he
pushed between my thighs and tongued my wet core, making love to me with his mouth. His pace was unrelenting as he pushed me higher and higher, as if he needed to seal our words with this physical act. My body went boneless as he pushed inside me with two fingers, pumping sleekly and deeply. Without warning, my body bowed off the couch and I pushed up against his mouth as my climax washed over me like a wave of fire.

  He was burning me alive, branding me and I’d never craved anything more.

  “Fuck, you taste good. Like honey.”

  Max rose up, unfastened his jeans and shoved them down his legs, his cock hard and stiff against his stomach, a delicious drop of pre–come on its tip. Before I could tell him how much I wanted him, Max leaned over me, capturing my mouth in a kiss that tasted of my arousal as his cock brushed against my slick, sensitive sex. Mindlessly filled with the need to have him inside me, I struggled up against him, urging his body to fill me, stretch me.

  Breaking off the kiss, he ran his tongue up my jaw and let it circle the outer shell of my ear before dipping down to nip at my earlobe. He pulled back and I protested, silencing my complaint when I saw that he was pausing only to put on a condom.

  I gasped as he entered me with one thrust, kissing me roughly and holding my hips in a bruising grip. I didn’t want him to be gentle and he wasn’t. I needed this connection to erase the last few days of being apart.

  He pounded into me, hard and deep, and I met him thrust for thrust, our cries mingling along with the sweat on our straining bodies. Max grasped my thighs and lifted me higher against his body, angling me in a way that allowed him to rub against my clit with every push and pull. I tightened my grip on his biceps, his eyes locking with me just as my climax hit and pulled him over the edge with me.

  He collapsed on top of me, panting harshly while his lips tenderly skimmed my forehead, cheeks, lips, and finally settled against my neck. His weight was a comfort, a solid reminder that I wasn’t alone. I was loved.

  He shifted to the side and pulled a blanket over us as we settled into the couch. Max caressed my face with gentle hands, urging my lips up to accept his gentle kiss. He broke it off and whispered against my cheek. “I love you.”