Turning Point (The Kathleen Turner Series)

by Snow, Tiffany

  “Take them off,” he rasped, and I wasted no time in obeying him, mewling in pleasure when his hand returned between my legs. “Christ, you’re wet,” he growled.

  I watched, unable to take my eyes off his hand, as his middle finger slipped inside me. Another moan fell from my lips at the sensation.

  “Touch your breasts,” Blane ordered.

  My cheeks burned, but I did it, pulling the fabric from the tape attached to my skin and allowing my breasts to spill into my hands. I squeezed, my thumbs flicking over my aching nipples. This wasn’t something I normally did, and it didn’t do much for me, but judging by Blane’s reaction, it certainly did a lot for him.

  His hand moved faster, pumping in and out of me, my hips lifting in time to his thrusts. Glancing over, I saw the strain of his erection pressing against the denim of his jeans. Abruptly deciding on a new course of action, I yanked his hand from between my legs and pulled my knees up underneath me.

  “What are you—”

  His voice abruptly cut off when I leaned across the seat and started undoing his pants. Thankfully, I was short enough to accomplish this position in his car, though it did leave my bare ass in the air and my breasts hanging out. Judging by the beads of sweat on Blane’s forehead, he wasn’t going to complain.

  I freed his cock from his jeans a moment later and wasted no time taking him into my mouth. I moaned as a strangled sound escaped Blane’s throat. I took as much of him as I could, loving the feel of satin-encased steel. I was startled when I felt Blane’s fingers thrust inside me again, then I quickly took up the same rhythm as his fingers, wrapping my hand around the base of his erection since I couldn’t fit all of it in my mouth.

  I had no idea how Blane was able to drive, and I didn’t want to know how fast we were going. I was much more consumed with the feel and taste of him against my tongue, and the roughness of his fingers as they fucked me.

  “Stop, Kat,” I heard Blane grit out.

  I wanted no part of him trying to make me stop. He always made me stop. Just this once, I refused to let him. Since one hand was on the steering wheel and the other was buried inside me, he couldn’t force me to release him.

  His fingers moved a certain way, curving and pressing, and I shattered, my scream muffled by his cock deep in my mouth. Then Blane was cursing, his hips jerking upward and his erection thickening, pushing down my throat as his orgasm overtook him. I gagged and my eyes watered, but I stayed with him, swallowing until the spasms eased and stopped.

  Sitting up, I gasped for breath. Blane reached into the backseat, rummaging in the gym bag he always kept there until he unearthed a towel, which he handed me.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, wiping my mouth.

  Glancing around, I saw that we were stopped, parked in Blane’s driveway. Huh. I didn’t say anything, just reached down and pulled my jeans back on, forgoing the underwear in favor of speed. I wouldn’t say I was sober by any means, but I wasn’t drunk enough to saunter into the house with my ass hanging out.

  “Is that what you wore tonight?” Blane asked, watching me as I tried to readjust the halter enough to cover Thing 1 and Thing 2.

  I didn’t see how answering that question was going to lead anywhere good, so I ignored him.

  “Why did you bring me here?” I asked instead. “We broke up. You’re not obligated for a sleepover.” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

  “I don’t give a shit if you say we broke up or not,” he shot back. “God knows how much you’ve had to drink tonight, and I’m not leaving you alone to choke on your own vomit.”

  “What a guy,” I retorted. “Be still my heart.”

  The look on Blane’s face said he didn’t appreciate my attitude, so I smiled.

  His face turned to granite, but I kept my smile in place. I’d be damned if he was going to intimidate me. After all, I could still taste him on my tongue.

  Blane was out of the car and around to my side before I could savor my victory. Although I was a bit wobbly on my feet, I managed to extricate myself from the Jaguar without falling over.

  Pressing my body against Blane’s, I tucked my panties into the pocket of his shirt. Blane sucked in a breath, his eyes burning.

  Giving him another sweet-as-sugar smile, I turned and sashayed my way up to the front door. I didn’t hear Blane following, but I wasn’t surprised when his hand shot out to open the door for me.

  I didn’t bother thanking him, instead just strolled inside. I pushed my hands into the back pockets of my jeans, which thrust my breasts forward. Blane’s eyes were glued to my chest as I made a slow circle around the foyer before coming to a stop.

  “It’s rude to stare,” I said.

  His eyes jerked up to mine and I saw a muscle twitch in his jaw.

  I raised an eyebrow. Spying the tray Mona always left for Blane on the sideboard, I walked over to it. As I’d expected, the ice bucket had been filled. Picking up a piece of ice, I turned around, leaning against the wall.

  “Thirsty?” I asked. I licked the ice, wrapping my lips around it and sucking lightly. Blane watched avidly, his hands fisting at his sides. Keeping my eyes on his, I dragged the piece of ice over my lips and down my chin. Tilting my head to the side, I traced the ice slowly down the skin of my neck, between my breasts, and down my stomach.

  A pained expression came across Blane’s face. Popping the remaining ice in my mouth, I bit down, my lips turned up in a satisfied smile.

  The next moment, I was gulping the ice down as Blane pinned me to the wall.

  “You’re playing with fire, little girl,” he hissed. “Isn’t that what they called you? ‘Little girl’?”

  I instinctively cringed, then straightened my spine. I’d make him see me as a woman, and his equal, if it was the last thing I did. No more biting my tongue against words that might upset the balance between us or make him angry. No more assuming he was going to leave me if I did this or didn’t do that. If he left me, so be it, but it would be on my terms.

  I lifted an eyebrow. “I thought I was just using you for sex.” My hand traced the outline of his erection through his jeans.

  Blane’s head lowered, but I twisted, ducking under his arm and quickly sidestepping his reach.

  “Good night, Blane.”

  I felt his eyes burning a hole in my back as I climbed the stairs to my old bedroom.

  I fell asleep almost immediately, waking at some point during the night because I was cold. Everything was fuzzy, and for a moment, I didn’t know where I was. Groping for a blanket, I suddenly found one being dragged up to my shoulders.

  The shadowy outline of Blane stood over me. He said nothing, and I closed my eyes with a sigh, too tired and drunk to even think. Prying my eyes open a few moments later, I saw him sitting in the chair by the window. The light filtered in through the blinds, slashing moonlight in silver streaks across his face. His gaze was captivating. I knew he was there to watch over me, silent and steady in his vigil. It made my chest ache.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and knew no more.

  The next morning, I awoke with a headache that reminded me of how stupid I’d been the night before. Glancing blearily at the clock, I saw that it was barely after seven. I was alone.

  Everything I’d said and done came back with a rush and I groaned, mortification making me want to crawl under the bed. I’d come out, but not until they invented those light thingies to make people forget, like Will Smith used in Men in Black. Then I’d point it at Blane.

  “Never ever, ever, ever going to drink again,” I muttered to myself as I made my way to the bathroom. I chose not to think about how many times I’d said that same phrase in the past.

  I had absolutely no wish to run into Blane this morning, so I ignored my headache, brushed my teeth, and splashed some water on my face. I shoved my feet in my shoes, scoured the closet for an old shirt of Blane’s to throw on over my halter, and hightailed it downstairs. I vaguely remembered that Blane had tossed my purse into the ba
ckseat of his car. Since my car was still at the bar and I knew Blane had the SUV, I felt no compunction against grabbing the keys to his Jag off the sideboard. Okay, maybe a little, but not enough to stop.

  Throwing open the front door, I stopped in my tracks.

  Charlotte was standing there, her hand poised to knock.

  We stood in stark silence. I took in her perfect hair and makeup, skirt, heels, and overcoat, while she took in my jeans, Blane’s shirt, bedhead, and last night’s mascara smeared under my eyes.

  The very last thing I’d expected this morning was to have to do the walk of shame in front of the newest lawyer at the firm of Kirk and Trent.

  I cleared my throat and pasted on the best smile I could manage. “Hi, Charlotte,” I said. “How are you?”

  It took her a moment to recover from her surprise, then she said, “I’m wonderful, thank you for asking.”

  I stood awkwardly before saying, “Um, would you like to come in?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  She entered the foyer, looking around interestedly.

  “Um, why are you here?” I asked bluntly.

  “Blane texted me,” she said. “He has some documents I need. I offered to drop by and retrieve them since he said he was going to be late this morning.” She gave me another once-over from head to foot, and I tried not to squirm in embarrassment. “I didn’t realize you and Blane were… together.”

  “We’re not,” I blurted, then flushed as her eyebrows rose.

  Great. So I’d just told her that Blane and I weren’t in a relationship, we were just sleeping together. Or worse, I was a one-night stand.

  To my horror, Mona appeared from the kitchen. “Kathleen!” she exclaimed in delight. “How wonderful to see you!”

  If possible, Charlotte’s eyebrows climbed even higher.

  “Hi, Mona,” I said with a tight smile. “I’ve got to go. Have to get home, and get… to work.” I stammered, my heart hammering in my chest as Blane appeared at the top of the stairs, decked out for work in a suit and tie. His eyes met mine, but I couldn’t read his expression.

  “I’ll see you later,” I said in a rush before hurrying out the door.

  “Kathleen, wait!”

  I heard Blane call out, but I was already climbing into the car. It roared to life immediately, and I took off. In the rearview mirror, I saw Blane standing in the drive, staring after me.

  CHAPTER NINE

  My head pounded as I drove, but it didn’t begin to compare to the embarrassment crawling over my skin as memories of last night played through my mind. I remembered everything; the only part that got fuzzy was after I’d fallen asleep at Blane’s.

  Had I really told Blane that I was “just using” him for sex? I groaned aloud. I remembered the hurt and anger I’d felt last night—I’d wanted to retaliate after Blane’s inadequate proposal, to hurt him back. I liked to think I wasn’t that sort of person, but I also didn’t want to lie to myself. I’d not only treated Blane badly, but I’d also been cruel to Kade. He’d just been trying to help me outside the bar.

  I hated feeling this way, hated the regret and guilt that washed over me like a thick, oily pool. I sighed. Well, there was nothing for it. I was just going to have to put on my big-girl panties, suck it up, and apologize. After all the times I’d insinuated or accused Blane of just toying with me until something better came along, I’d been no better last night, using sex as a means to an end rather than as a natural off-spring of our relationship and how we felt for one another.

  Never once had Blane made me feel like a tramp or a slut—no, I’d done that all on my own.

  To top it off, I was sure Blane was just thrilled that Charlotte had been there this morning to witness the sordid morning after. I snorted. So much for trying to keep a professional appearance at work.

  And then there was what had to be the last straw—I’d taken Blane’s Jag.

  Okay, I had to be honest. I knew I shouldn’t have taken it—more guilt to add to my already heaping pile—but wow, was it incredible to drive. The miles to my apartment flew by easily and before I knew it, I was pulling into my parking lot while still self-flagellating over everything I’d done and said the night before.

  Tigger was glad to see me, and I felt another stab of guilt that he’d been alone for so long yesterday. I fed him and gave him a scratch behind his marmalade ears before I jumped in the shower. He complained long and loud about my lack of attention while I got ready for work.

  Striving for a professional look today, though I doubted anything would erase the picture Charlotte had of me from this morning, I dressed up in nylons, heels, a formfitting black pencil skirt, and an ivory silk blouse. I pulled my hair back in a French twist and applied minimal makeup. Gulping down a cup of coffee, I grabbed a granola bar, my coat, and my purse, and headed out the door.

  It was impossible to drive the Jag properly in heels. Slipping them off, I drove barefoot, wondering how I was going to get my car back. Maybe Clarice would take me, if she had time.

  I was able to get some things done at work, the stack of files on my desk higher than normal since I’d been out a lot the past few days. At some point, I knew I’d have to go upstairs and return Blane’s keys, but I put it off, cringing in embarrassment when I thought of looking him in the eye after last night.

  Finally after lunch, I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer. I had to leave soon to make it to Xtreme for my shift. Scooping up his keys, I headed for the elevator.

  It felt like I was headed to my execution rather than just going to see Blane, and I swore to myself that I was never, ever, ever going to drink again.

  Ever.

  Really.

  The elevator doors swooped open, and I was disappointed to see that Clarice was not at her desk. Damn. Blane’s door was closed, which made me hesitate. I definitely did not want to make things worse by interrupting an important meeting.

  Just as I was debating leaving the keys on Clarice’s desk and forgoing seeing Blane altogether, his door swung open.

  My breath caught in surprise to see Blane ushering out Senator Robert Keaston from the state of Massachusetts. The senator had been in Congress long enough that his name was spoken with reverence and awe. A powerful and intimidating man, he reminded me of Blane, which was fitting since he was Blane’s great-uncle. I’d met both the senator and his wife, Vivian, a few months ago.

  It seemed the eyes of both men fell on me at the same time. The senator seemed momentarily surprised, and Blane’s gaze shuttered immediately, leaving his expression an unreadable mask.

  Oh God—he was mad, disappointed, disgusted. Any one of a hundred possibilities, each more discouraging than the last, ran through my mind. Tearing my eyes from his, I forced a smile.

  “It’s nice to see you again, Senator,” I said.

  Senator Keaston seemed to have recovered himself, the politician’s smile I’d seen too many times on Blane’s face now gracing the senator’s face. “Likewise, my dear,” he replied.

  My smile faltered slightly at the tone of his words. Though polite on the surface, they held an undercurrent of disapproval. Before I could say anything more, he’d turned back to Blane, effectively dismissing me.

  “Remember what we talked about,” he admonished.

  Blane gave a curt nod. The senator passed by me on his way to the elevator, not saying anything further, and I watched until the doors closed behind him before reluctantly turning to face Blane again.

  He hadn’t moved from his spot in the doorway. He emanated danger, no less lethal for being encased in a dark suit and tie. I fancied I could feel the magnetic pull of his presence, even though he was several feet from me. I fidgeted for a moment, meeting his steady gaze before glancing away.

  “I… um… brought back your keys,” I finally stammered when the silence became too much for me to take.

  He didn’t reply, so I blundered on. “Listen, I… um… I’m really sorry.” Gathering my flagging courage, I raise
d my chin to look him in the eye.

  “You can borrow the car anytime you want,” he said with a shrug.

  My face heated at his misunderstanding. Now I was going to have to be more specific. I forced the words out. “I meant, I’m sorry for… for doing that. In the car. And for what I said at your house. I… wanted to get back at you, which is wrong… and I’m sorry.”

  Guilt and shame washed over me, making me want to cringe, but I refused to give in to the impulse. I harshly reminded myself that this wasn’t about me feeling bad for what I’d done; I should feel bad. It was about apologizing to someone I’d hurt.

  Blane pulled me into his office and closed the door. Cradling my face in his hands, he said, “Are you kidding me? You’re apologizing for the best car ride I’ve ever had?”

  My mind reeled in confusion. “What?”

  Blane laughed lightly. “Kat, anytime you want to get drunk and horny, I’ve got no problem with that. Just so long as it’s always me you call.”

  “You’re not mad?”

  His fingers brushed my cheek. “I’m mad at myself, for hurting you. I’m mad that I’ve done things, said things, that have pushed you away, made you feel you couldn’t talk to me. But am I mad at you? No.”

  I shook my head. “Even if you’re not, I was wrong. My intentions were wrong.”

  “You mean you didn’t want me to touch you last night?” he asked. His voice was lower now, and it sent a shiver through me. His eyes flared green in their depths and I couldn’t look away. Somehow he’d drawn even closer, our bodies nearly touching. “Didn’t want me to stroke you, make you come? Didn’t want me in your mouth, on your tongue? Because I’ve got to be honest.” His lips were by my ear now, and my eyes slipped shut at the brush of his warm breath. “That’s a memory I’ll take to my grave.”

  My heart was hammering in my chest now, my embarrassment and guilt forgotten in light of his words. Our eyes locked again and his gaze dropped to my mouth. I nervously wet my lips, feeling as anxious as though he were about to kiss me for the first time.