Chapter Eight
Dawn stroked Kellen’s back as he lay trembling on top of her. She knew he was having a difficult time with the emotional aspect of this. He seemed to be okay with the physical part. Her body thanked him for that. She’d never been with a man who could stare directly into her eyes while he made love to her. It was as if Kellen wasn’t only making love to her body, but also to her soul. He’d touched her everywhere—inside and out.
“I just need a minute,” he said, his voice shaking almost as much as his body was. It made her heart ache for him.
If he cried, she was going to bawl right along with him. A tight knot was already lodged firmly in her throat.
“Take as long as you need,” she whispered. “I like the weight of you against me.”
She was actually finding it difficult to draw air, and the top of this piano was almost as comfortable as a cement floor, but her minor discomfort couldn’t possibly match what he was going through emotionally. She almost wished they’d waited before taking this step. What if he hadn’t been ready? What if by diving headlong into the physical side of their attraction, she’d completely ruined those deeper connections that she wanted to explore with him? The sex had been phenomenal and she had no doubt that it would get better between them as he shed the restraints of his past, but she would be devastated if her successful seduction hurt him. He was hurting enough already. And she didn’t have a clue what she should say to him. So she just lay there, holding him, until his trembling abated and he slowly withdrew from her body. She immediately missed the fullness of him inside her. She hadn’t realized the physical connection was so important to her until it went missing.
Kellen rose up on his elbows and stared directly at her forehead. “I… uh… thanks?”
Thanks? And not a statement, but a question. Wow, when had Mr. Deep and Sensitive vanished? Shit, was he one of those guys who pretended to be wounded to get in a woman’s pants? It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been duped into having sex.
And, okay, she supposed that thanks were appropriate, but for some reason she got tickled by the earnest look on his face and started to laugh.
“Uh… you’re welcome?” she said in the same uncertain tone he’d used.
He grinned and then snorted as he tried to hold in a laugh. “That was pretty uninspired,” he said. “Let me try again. Your body is like a river of warm pleasure washing over me like… uh…” His eyes darted to the side as inspirational words apparently escaped him.
“A river of warm pleasure?” She was really laughing now. “You should have stuck with thanks.”
“Sorry for being lame. I have a hard time stringing coherent thoughts together after a really intense orgasm.” He grinned. “So yeah. Thanks!”
She wrapped him in an affectionate embrace, a little surprised that he wasn’t making excuses to leave.
“Do you want to go upstairs?” she asked, crossing her fingers behind his back.
Yes, sex had definitely happened too soon with this deep and tortured man. She wanted him to stick around, but maybe it would be better to convince him to stay with something other than another really intense orgasm. Not that she’d mind another one herself.
“What’s upstairs?”
She couldn’t tell if he was joking. “Uh, something more comfortable to cuddle on than this hard piano.”
He winced as he shifted slightly. “Such as a porcupine?”
“Even more comfortable than that.”
“I don’t think I can spend the night in your bed, Dawn,” he said. “Not because you aren’t the most wonderful thing that’s happened to me in a long, long time, but because…”
He didn’t have to say the words; she could read them on his face. He felt guilty for having sex with her. He probably even felt guilty for being attracted to her and talking to her and eating her fucking French toast, not to mention her pussy. Even in the low light given off by the single candle, the guilt in his eyes brought his reality crashing down around her. She knew letting go of Sara was difficult for him, and she wasn’t making it easy on him by jumping into this relationship at rocket speed, but someone had to shake him up. It might as well be her.
He glanced around the mostly dark room. “Would you settle for a sofa?”
“Anything’s better than this piano,” she said. “For resting on. Making love on it fulfilled a long-standing fantasy of mine, and the experience greatly exceeded my expectations. So… uh… thanks?”
He laughed and kissed the tip of her nose before scooting off the edge of the piano. Once standing, he stared down at her. “I never made love on a piano or even fantasized about it, but I will be from now on. You look absolutely stunning lying there.”
She basked in his attention as his gaze touched upon every inch of her naked body. She liked looking at him too. Especially when he was dripping wet as he had been the first time she’d seen him. “Have you ever made love on the beach?”
“Yeah,” he said, looking suddenly detached and forlorn.
Must have screwed Sara there, Dawn figured. She was starting to recognize that lost look as an indicator of that woman commandeering his thoughts. “And?”
“Sand everywhere,” he said. “In places you don’t want it. Making sandpaper out of body parts that have no business being abrasive.”
“Ouch,” she said breathlessly, a little curious to know what that would feel like, but she wouldn’t admit that to him. Mostly because it would make him think of her.
Would Dawn have to spend every moment with him watching what she said so she didn’t set off Sara triggers? Was he even worth that much effort?
Hell yeah, he was.
Kellen removed the condom and disposed of it among her waded-up attempts at musical scores in the wastepaper can. She pretended not to be affected by watching him do something so intimate. Every little thing he did fascinated her for some stupid reason. She’d probably weep at his masculine beauty if she watched him shave. Sheesh, she was glad the man could not read her thoughts. It was bad enough that he knew how quickly she’d become physically attached to him—if he had any idea that she was already making an emotional attachment, she wouldn’t be able to gaze at him for long, because he’d be gone.
“Making love on the beach seems as if it would be romantic,” she said.
“Romantic, yes, but also uncomfortable.”
She chuckled as he approached the piano again. “Apparently, making love in uncomfortable locations turns me on.”
He laughed and lifted her from the piano, cradling her head against his shoulder. Her arms automatically circled his neck. She expected him to set her on her feet, but he carried her to the sofa and sat with her on his lap.
“Tell me about your parents,” she said.
“While I’m naked and holding you in my arms?”
“Yep.”
“My mom had a drinking problem and I never met my dad. Tell me about yours.”
“My mom has a stick up her ass and my dad makes sure she keeps it there. I see them twice a year.”
“Christmas and Thanksgiving?”
“Lord, no. They spend the holidays on their private island in the Bahamas. No way am I marooning myself in their company when I’m supposed to be feeling good will toward man and thankful for my gifts. I see my father for a week in April. He reviews my financial situation with his tax attorney. It’s great fun. And I also get the pleasure of their company at the family reunion each year in July. That’s when they all get together and talk about which politician they’re currently courting and who has the most expensive yacht.”
“Can’t even begin to relate to that.”
She chuckled. “Me neither.”
“Didn’t you grow up in that environment?”
“Not really. I had a piano teacher and a variety of tutors, a housekeeper who made sure I was fed and clean, but mostly I had me.”
“You must have been lonely. I can relate to that. My grandfather owns a piece of land outside Austin. He lived in o
ne trailer, and my mom and I lived in another. I made sure Mom was fed and clean, and grandpa tried to teach me how to find peace through connecting with the earth. I learned a lot from him before he died. He was half-Comanche and had a unique way of seeing things. When he passed, he left everything to my mom, so she started buying top-shelf vodka. Then my senior year in high school, she met some guy and left me on my own. I was eighteen, and she decided I’d rather finish school in Austin than follow her and Henry to Florida.”
“Did she ask you how you felt about that?”
“Nope, but she was right. I preferred to stay on my own. But her not giving me the choice made me feel unwelcome and unwanted.”
She squeezed his arm reassuringly. She’d never felt wanted either. But she wanted him and hoped that he wanted her too.
“I’ve never admitted that to anyone,” he said. “Not even Owen. When my mom moved out, he and I made it out like it was a huge party. I guess I needed that lie, that I was glad Mom left. Owen tends to dwell on the good and pretend the bad doesn’t exist. He keeps me going most days.”
“I think I’d like to meet him. It’s hard to find a good optimist.”
He laughed. “Yeah, Owen wears optimism like a shield.”
“Do you know who your father is?”
“Yeah. I never met him though. He contacted me when I was sixteen. Sent cards and letters, but I didn’t want to have anything to do with him. I was too angry at him for abandoning me.”
“You’ve never met him? Not even once?”
“No. He got killed in a car wreck before I could allow myself to forgive him. And then it was too late. I didn’t even find out about his death until a week after the funeral. I’m not sure if I would have gone had I known.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Before Sara was diagnosed, that was my sole regret in life,” he said. “Not getting to know my father when I had the chance. When Sara got sick, my list of regrets grew exponentially.”
“You don’t regret knowing her, do you?”
“Never. I regret not making her last months more about living and less about dying. I regret letting her convince me that the lump I found in her breast was probably nothing. Did you know that when breast cancer is caught early, it has a near one hundred percent cure rate?”
Dawn hated that he carried that guilt. How was he supposed to know what was going on inside her body?
“They didn’t catch it early, did they?”
He shook his head. “It had already metastasized into her lungs. Breast cancer doesn’t even run in her family. She didn’t smoke. She ate healthy and took care of her body. So why did it happen to her?”
“It was just chance,” Dawn said.
“I don’t believe in chance.”
“You believe in destiny,” she said.
He nodded slightly.
“So you think she was destined to die at… how old was she?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Jesus,” Dawn said, sudden tears springing to her eyes. No one should die that young. “Does it make it easier or more difficult thinking she died because it was her destiny?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I just really can’t bring myself to believe that she suffered like that for no reason. But even though I’ve tried rationalizing her death, I can’t come up with any sound reason for her to be taken so young.”
Dawn didn’t believe in destiny or fate. She believed in chance. So it was hard for her to understand where he was coming from. In her mind, there was no reason for Sara to die other than her cells had become cancerous, due to some chance event that would never be identified, and she’d died. She knew Kellen wouldn’t find that any more comforting than not having the sound reason he sought. And Dawn’s beliefs weren’t important here. She didn’t want to convince him that she was right and he was wrong. All she wanted was for him to find that comfort he needed, even if she wasn’t the one who gave it to him.
“Maybe you’re not meant to know the reason she died so young,” Dawn said.
“I’m sure I’m not supposed to understand it,” he said, “but that doesn’t stop me from trying.”
They sat silently, and Dawn found herself missing the sound of the storm raging outside. She could use a distraction from her thoughts and was certain Kellen’s thoughts were equally as turbulent.
“So how many men have you slept with?” he asked.
Or maybe he was thinking about her vagina.
“Why?” she asked.
“You seem a little inexperienced.”
“I do?”
“You’re great at what you do,” he said. “That trick with the candle wax had me ready to explode.”
“I made that up on the fly,” she said.
“Nice.”
She chuckled. “But to answer your question, four. Including you. You count, right?”
“I’m hoping by the end of the night, I’ll count double.”
That sounded promising. Was he thinking of getting intimate with her again? Yes, please. She’d never known a guy to come twice in one night, so if Kellen managed it three times, she’d definitely count him double.
“How many woman have you slept with?” she asked. It was only fair that he share the same information. Then she remembered he was a rock star. She’d probably have a stroke when he spouted some astronomical figure.
“Actual sex or fooling around and foreplay?”
“Actual sex.”
“Four,” he said. “Including you.”
She gaped at him for what felt like five minutes and then sputtered, “Liar!”
“I didn’t call you a liar. Why do you think I’m one?”
“Because. Because you’re a gorgeous rock star. You must have women hanging all over you.”
“Yeah, but I don’t have sex with them. I only have sex when I feel a connection with a woman, and that doesn’t happen very often.”
So was he saying he felt a connection with her?
“I have fooled around a lot,” he said. “I’m not a saint.”
“Then why did you tell me you’ve only been with three other women?”
“Because I place a certain emphasis on being inside a woman. It’s important to me and I thought maybe it was important to you too. If it’s not, that’s okay. I just wanted to know what kind of woman destiny insists I feel a connection with.”
There he went with that destiny stuff again. Couldn’t they have just met by chance, had a few things in common—most notably music—found each other attractive and decided that a little pleasure would go well with their newfound compatibility?
“Tell me about your other lovers,” he said. “I want to know what I’m up against.”
Her eyes widened. This was like taboo stuff to talk about so early in a relationship. But wait—was this even a relationship yet? Hardly. But she found herself telling him anyway.
“I lost my virginity on prom night.”
“Cliché,” he said with a soft smile. “Was it good for you?”
“No. It was awkward and it hurt and I didn’t even like the guy. I hadn’t ever been on a date before. My dad somehow talked one of his colleague’s sons into taking me to his prom, since I was homeschooled and would have missed out on all the fun. I didn’t know anyone there. I was so socially awkward and apparently naive. He gave me my first kiss. First tongue kiss. First boob fondle. First touch down below. First penetration. All in the same night. I didn’t know how to stop him. I wanted him to stop, but I was scared and confused, so I just let it happen. I never saw him again after that night, and I’m glad. I’d probably have thrown up if I ever had to be in the same room with him again.” Just thinking about that night so many years ago made her feel queasy.
“What a scum-sucking son-of-a-bitch,” he said. “You don’t count that one, Dawn. That’s called date rape.”
She shook her head. “Except I never told him no. I just thought it. And thought it. And thought it. But I never said it.”
“If
you didn’t want to do it, it was rape. I’ve had a lot of women who can’t take no for an answer. It’s never progressed to actual intercourse, but even being touched when you don’t want to be touched doesn’t feel right. It bothers me every time it happens.”
Dawn’s belly flipped over. “But I touched you when you didn’t want to be touched. I’m sorry if it bothered you.” She hadn’t even thought that her coming on so strong to Kellen might have made him feel the way that Jonathan Kingsley had made her feel. How wretched of her.
He chuckled. “Are you kidding? The only kind of bothered you caused was hot and bothered. I wanted you to touch me so badly I thought I was going to rip those boxer shorts in half with my boner. There is a difference between reluctance and rejection. That asshole stole something from you that he had no right to take.”
Not many people knew what had happened to her on prom night. It wasn’t like she could have told her parents. She didn’t have close friends until college, and they’d thought losing her virginity behind a Dairy Queen was funny, because she usually told it as a humorous story. She didn’t know why she’d expressed her true feelings when she’d told Kellen about it. And Kellen’s understanding about why it had been so mortifying made her feel better.
“You know, it wasn’t your fault,” he added, and gently rubbed his knuckles up and down her bare arm.
Kellen was right—it hadn’t been her fault. But for a long time she’d blamed herself for not knowing what to do or how to make him stop. It had never occurred to her to blame Jonathan Kingsley.
“I hope the other two treated you right,” Kellen said. “I don’t want to hear about some other jerk hurting you.”
“No. There was just the one jerk. My second lover was my only long-term boyfriend. We dated for months before we finally slept together. Michael was even less experienced than I was, but once we became intimate, we had a whole lot of fun figuring out what felt good. We broke up after college. He wanted to go to China and teach English. I told him to have fun without me.”
“You didn’t want to go with him?”
“Our relationship had grown stale. I’d fallen out of love with him, but he never did anything wrong, so I didn’t know how to break up with him. How do you end a relationship just because it’s boring? His going to China finally gave me the excuse I’d been waiting for.”
Tie Me (One Night with Sole Regret #5) Page 11
