“Hi Matisse, you can go on back.”
“Thanks, Alex,” I tell her. I learned on my last visit that she definitely is Alex Corrigan, and also that she loves being at the front desk, despite being a billionaire herself and being married to one as well.
I practically skip down the hall and walk through the doors I already knew would be open. Reina’s waiting for me with a smile on her face. “Are you ready?”
“Hell, yeah,” I tell her, more than ready to live this new life.
After she goes over all of my paperwork with me, Reina takes me down to the medical wing to see Stella. She just got back from a mission, where she was stabbed in the thigh. Reina tells me they have a doctor on-site, and he’s stitching her up right now.
When we walk into the hospital room, my attention is immediately drawn to the dark-skinned man placing the bandage on Stella. He’s absolutely gorgeous, but I’ve seen gorgeous men before, and not felt like this. I don’t know what it is about him, but I’m instantly attracted to him, and his sexy muscled forearms.
“Hey, Matisse!” Stella says with a smile.
“Hi,” I managed to get out, even though my mouth has gone dry. “Are you okay?”
“Oh yeah. Just a little knife wound. Kenny stitched me up good.”
“Kenny?”
He looks at me, and rolls my eyes, before holding his hand out to me. “Hello. I’m Kendrick. You can call me Kenny or Ken, as the other women do if you’d like.”
I nearly fall to the floor in a puddle of lust at the sound of his African accent. Dear God, what is wrong with me? “How about ‘Doc’?” I ask, flirting because I have to, and then forcing myself not to jump back when our hands touch and a zap of electricity seems to hit me.
His eyes widen as he looks at our hands, and then me, telling me he felt something to. “Yes, Matisse. You may call me that if you wish.”
Oh, I wish. I wish for a lot of things that are definitely not appropriate to be thinking or saying right now. I know I’m going to say, and try to do them—do him—at some point, but for now, I just smile, and pretend like I’m not in total lust, and maybe even a little love with this man I just met. Piece of cake, right?
Prologue
Two weeks ago
Matisse
“Do you want to come up to my place?” I ask Kendrick, feeling bold at this party I helped make happen.
“I’m not sure that would be a good idea.”
“You don’t always have to be good, you know.”
“Actually, I do.”
“We’d be good together if you’d just give me a chance.”
“It’s not you.”
“Really? Come on, Doc. Don’t say it’s you, because I’m not buying it. You’re brilliant, hot, and I know you want me.”
Now the alcohol is starting to talk. I probably shouldn’t have had that last shot, but liquid courage and all, you know.
“It’s not proper for me to date a recruit.”
“There’s no rules against it. I already checked.”
“It’s an unwritten rule.”
“Is it Waverly?”
“What?”
“I know you two are close. Is she your secret girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Fuck buddy?”
“Definitely not.”
“I’d be your fuck buddy. No strings.”
“How much have you had to drink, Matisse?”
“Maybe too much, or maybe not enough.”
“I’m leaning towards the too much for you right now.”
“Why am I not sexy enough to make you break your rules, Doc?”
“You’re more than sexy enough. I just have rules for a reason. I don’t want to compromise myself by breaking them.”
“You really think I’m sexy?” I ask, ignoring the rest of what he said, because it makes no sense.
“You know I do.”
“Can you change your rules? Then you won’t have to worry about breaking any with me. Please?”
“You’re going to be the death of me, Matisse. Maybe even literally.”
“I’d never let you die, Doc. I’ll protect you even if you don’t give me any yummy orgasms.”
“I think I better get you up to bed.”
“Ooh. Yes, please.”
“I’m just going to tuck you in. You’re in no condition for anything else.”
“Guys don’t always care.”
“This guy cares. Let’s go.”
He cares. About me. I wasn’t kidding about some guys not minding sex after a few too many drinks, but my doctor cares. He’s mine, even if he doesn’t know it yet. And I’m his. I have been ever since I first laid eyes on him on my tour. I wanted to un-straighten his laces that day, and my desire for him has only grown while he’s been tutoring me. He may not be ready for me yet, but he will be. He has to be. After all, he’s the only man I’ve ever truly fallen in love with.
* * *
Kendrick
Getting Matisse up to her apartment nearly did me in. I want her so badly, but I won’t allow myself to have her. There’s too much I’m hiding from her, and it wouldn’t be fair to bring her into my life. I can usually deal with it, but there are times when I almost give in. Earlier tonight was one of those times.
She’s drunk now, and I meant it when I said I wouldn’t ever take advantage of an inebriated woman. But earlier—earlier when she wasn’t drunk—she was being just as flirty. Hell, she’s always flirty with me, letting me know she wants more than just tutoring from me.
It’s getting harder and harder to resist her, especially when I’m carrying her to her bed. She probably could’ve walked, but I wanted her in my arms. Just once I wanted to feel her body against mine.
“Thanks for carrying me, Doc,” she says, before closing her eyes.
Her even breathing tells me she’s sleeping. I open her door, and take her into her bedroom. I’ve been to her apartment several times, but I’ve never been in here. Her grey satin sheets are strewn with clothes, the funky shoes she wears, and lingerie that makes my mouth water and my already hard cock even harder. This was a very bad idea. As I move some dresses over so I can lay her down, I know I won’t be able to forget being in this room, or imagining her in the black lace corset that’s on the floor at my feet. I just need to remember that I can’t have her, and make it a point to cut back on our study sessions without hurting her feelings.
Chapter 1
Kendrick
I shouldn’t be here, and not because I don’t want a tattoo. I’m here for Matisse, and that’s probably the worst reason. For both of us. She wants more than I can give, and I want her more than my next breath. It’s a bad idea all around, but obviously I’m a masochist because I’m standing here outside of Zane Wilson’s tattoo shop, picking her up so we can study.
She’s corralled me into helping her with science and anatomy, when I know she just wants to study my anatomy. And yeah, I want to run my hands over her body, too. Trace her subtle curves—and her tattoos—with my hands, my mouth, my tongue. Any and all of that would be bad, so I do what I’ve been doing for the past few months; take a few deep breaths and think of my grandmother. It’s not scientific or medically sound, but it works.
I open the door, and walk inside, trying not to stare too hard at anything or anyone. I’m intrigued by the notion of people thinking something—or someone—is so important that they want to permanently mark their skin with it. I’m well aware that many tribes in Africa incorporate tattoos into their customs, but I grew up in the city. There are tattoo parlors there, but I was never interested, because I’ve always had more pressing matters to attend to.
“Doc!” Matisse yells, running over and crushing me in a hug.
I’d be lying if I said my chest didn’t puff up a little as the guys and girls around me look on in shock. This woman throws off a “get the fuck away from me” vibe to most people, while sending me a “fuck me now” vibe. It shouldn’t please me so much, but damn
if it doesn’t.
“Hello, Matisse,” I say, patting her back and stepping away. “Are you ready?”
“I’m always ready for you.”
If the jaws in this place weren’t already dropped, that right there did it. I want to pump my fist in the air, but I can’t encourage this. I can’t encourage her, even if I want to. Which I do.
“Shall we go?”
“Let me just grab my purse.”
I join every other person in the shop as we watch her swinging those damn hips of hers—no doubt for my benefit—as she makes her way to the back of the shop. Matisse is drop dead gorgeous, and so hot I’m always a little afraid of being scorched when she touches me. Her black hair is shorter in the back, with most of the front falling to her collarbones. There are a few strands that are longer, grazing her breasts, and those are the pieces that drive me wild. I want to wrap those strands around my fist and…God, I have to stop this. Stop thinking about her perfect little breasts, and her barely-there hips that flow from her flat stomach. Or that piercing above her lip. I want to suck on that piercing while I let my tongue out to lick her bright red lips. No, no I don’t. I can’t.
“Hey, Kendrick, what’s up?” Zane asks, coming out from the back with a smirk on his face.
“You know, the same things.”
He looks down, and I fight the urge to cover myself. My suit jacket is already doing that, so I know he’s just messing with me. “I’m sure.”
“How’s your family? I heard Landon is in high demand from the universities.”
“They’re good, and he’s getting crazy offers. Who knew my kid would be a baseball phenom?”
“With you and Quinn as parents, how could he be anything less than spectacular?” I ask, meaning every word.
Zane is extremely talented, and Quinn is a much sought after fashion designer. Besides all that, they took Landon in and raised him, even though he’s not theirs by blood. They are two of the best people I know, and I know more than my fair share of great ones. Just one of the perks of being the doctor for a secret society of spies that works out of a charitable foundation.
“Thanks, man. I appreciate it. Which is why it makes my next question a little more awkward.”
“You can ask me anything, Zane. I may not answer, but feel free to ask.”
He looks over his shoulder, before focusing on me again. “What’s going on with you and Matisse? She’s a tough chick, but I know she’s got it bad for you, and I don’t want to see her hurt.”
“I’m just tutoring her.”
“You’re not interested in her?”
“I’d have to be blind, deaf, and incredibly dumb not to be interested.”
“Then you need to go for it. Go for her. I haven’t met a single guy—or some married ones—who hasn’t hit on her, and she doesn’t give them a second glance. Even the rock stars and actors. She wants none of them. It’s all you.”
“It’s not appropriate. I work for the Foundation, and she’s an intern.”
“Bullshit. You have no say in whether she passes her training or not. If you want her, she’s yours, and I’d say you’re a very lucky man.”
I look over his shoulder, and see Matisse walking back towards us. She laughs at something one of the other tattoo artists says, leaning over to kiss his cheek. The guy looks like he won the lottery, but he didn’t. I did, and Zane’s right—I need to turn in my winning ticket. All the reasons I have for avoiding Matisse are valid, but we can be careful. We’ll have to be careful, but I’m done fighting what I feel. I want the tattooed girl in the loose tank top, cutoff shorts, and crazy boots, and damn if I’m not going to finally have her.
* * *
Matisse
Kendrick looks different when I walk back out. I can’t explain it, but I feel it in the way he looks at me. When he holds his hand out to me, I stumble in my clunky boots, causing him to catch me in his arms.
“How do you even walk in those?” he asks, looking down at my flat heeled combat boots. They have a clear section between my foot and the tread, filled with silk pink roses. I can’t bend my foot as I walk, but they’re damn cute, and I love them.
“Carefully,” I tell him with a smile. He’s still holding onto my waist and I’m caressing his biceps as they flex beneath his suit jacket and shirt.
He shakes his head. “I guess we can’t walk.”
“Walk? Are we studying close by?”
“I was hoping we could grab dinner before the studying,” he tells me, looking me in the eye.
I forget to breathe for a moment, caught up in his gaze, and what I think was him asking me on a date. “I can walk wherever you want to take me.” That didn’t come out desperate at all, but he knows I want him, so why should I pretend I don’t?
“I heard you talking about that nacho place the other day.”
“Nacho Daddy? You really want to go there?” I ask, looking at him in his suit. He’s just a tad overdressed.
“Yes,” he says with a chuckle. He lets go of me to pull off his jacket. After handing it to me, he yanks off his tie, opens the top few buttons of his shirt, and rolls up his sleeves. He has such nice forearms. Very nice forearms. “Better?”
“Casual Kendrick is nice to see.”
“This isn’t casual. Casual is a t-shirt and shorts.”
“I’d like to see that.”
“Maybe you will. First, may I feed you?”
“Yes,” I tell him, putting his jacket on over my clothes instead of handing it back to him.
“It looks better on you,” he says, stuffing his tie in his pocket, and taking my hand.
We walk out, ignoring everyone who was not-so-subtle about their eavesdropping. I could care less what they heard or saw. I’m going on a date with Kendrick, and I wasn’t sure that would ever happen. Nothing’s going to stop me from enjoying this night.
Kendrick keeps looking at me every few seconds as well walk, and the look on his face makes it seem like he can’t believe I’m here. He can’t believe he’s taking me to dinner. I finally have enough, and pull him over to the outside of one of the casinos here on Fremont Street. It’s loud, and there are tourists everywhere, but none of that’s going to distract me.
“Let’s go back.”
“Back? Did you forget something?”
“Yeah. I forgot about you not wanting to break your rules,” I say crossing my arms over my chest.
“I’m not breaking my rules, Matisse. I did what you suggested, and changed them.”
That’s sweet, and his damn African accent is so fucking sexy. I ease my stance a little without even realizing what I’m doing. “Then why are you looking at me like you can’t believe this is happening?”
“I can’t believe it. I pushed you away so many times, and I can’t believe you’re still here. That you still want me. You could have any guy. Hell, those guys at the shop were all eye-fucking you, even while I had you in my arms.”
“There’s only one guy I want, and he’s letting me wear his jacket, which means he’s mine.”
“I wasn’t aware of this custom,” he tells me, raising one sexy eyebrow.
“It’s like people saying ‘I licked it first, so it’s mine’. I happen to love fashion, so wearing your jacket makes you mine.”
“As opposed to the licking.”
“I’m definitely not opposed to licking—or being licked.”
“Noted.”
“Good talk, Doc. Let’s eat.”
We walk the couple of blocks to the restaurant, and take a table in the bar, because the place is pretty packed. Kendrick orders the Thai Chicken Nacho, and I get my usual Spicy Shrimp Nacho. He surprises me by ordering a beer, while I get a margarita.
“You’re just full of surprises tonight.”
“Have to keep you on your toes, Tees.”
My eyes widen at his nickname for me. My friends call me “Teesy” but he’s always called me by my full name. “No worries about that.”
We flirt throug
h drinks and dinner, sharing our nachos, and rubbing our legs against each other’s under the table. I’m so hot for him, and I don’t know if I can walk all the way back to his car without pulling him down a dark alley. Luckily—or not—he’d actually parked close to the restaurant, and walked to me. Very interesting, since I’m almost sure he wasn’t going to ask me out when he first walked into the shop earlier. I voice my suspicions as we walk to the parking garage, his arm around my shoulders now, while mine is around his waist.
“I didn’t plan on asking you to dinner, but I thought we might pick up something to take home while we studied.”
Sounds logical, and Kendrick is nothing if not logical. “What made you change your mind?”
“Zane. He pointed out some things I’d been thinking myself, and it made me want to stop fighting what I feel for you.”
“I’ll have to buy him lunch for the rest of the year for that.”
He laughs out loud, a full body laugh, and I melt a little more. “I’ll chip in.”
The ride home is quiet. I’m thinking about how I want him to study me, and not help me study. I don’t know what he’s thinking since, well, he’s not talking. I want to ask him, but I also want to wait for him to make another move. His first one was shockingly wonderful, and I feel like if I let him make another one, I won’t be disappointed.
“Would you like to come to my apartment?” he asks when we get into the elevator.
“Yes.”
“I’m warning you now…I want to explore your beautiful body, not study figures on a page.”
“Double yes. Quadruple yes. Not enough numbers in the universe, yes.”
“Oh God,” he says and then he’s on me.
His lips aren’t gentle, but they are as soft as I’d always imagined they would be. He kisses me over and over again, hard little kisses that take my breath away. When the doors open on his floor, he lifts me up, urging me to wrap my legs around his waist. No complaints here.
He fumbles for his doorknob as I lick and suck on his neck. Giving up, he presses me against the door, and finally gives me his tongue. Words aren’t necessary as we taste each other. Kendrick has one hand in my hair, and one under my ass as I unbutton his shirt and run my fingers through the chest hair I encounter.
Society Girls: Matisse Page 2
