by Sierra Hill
He was delectable. She wanted to throw her arms around him and just breathe in his sexiness.
She recognized the song playing in the background was an up tempo, catchy tune about new shoes by Paolo Nutini. As it got to the chorus, Remy suddenly belted out the lyrics, spinning on his heels, stopping short when he saw Kenzie staring wide-eyed with a goofy grin across her face.
At first she was embarrassed over being caught – like a kid with her hand in the cookie jar. But then her laughter left her unrestrained, as she bent over to her knees in mirth. She couldn’t help herself and was almost delirious in a fit of giggles that erupted from her exhausted body.
His voice, an octave higher than usual, brought her back to an upright position. “What the hell do you find so funny, Pixie?”
The unfamiliarity of the nickname and the mirth in his tone had her startled and curious. Kenzie moved forward and placed her bag on the kitchen table, cocking her eyebrow at him.
“Your dance moves are what’s funny,” she mused. “And what’s up with the pixie label?”
Remy set down the utensils and wiped his hands on the apron he was wearing – another amusing site. He leaned back against the counter and gave her a knowing smile.
“I’ve called you that name in my head since I met you. I don’t know, it just comes to mind whenever I see you. You’re small, elfish and a little bit mischievous.”
Kenzie didn’t know if she should be insulted or take it as a compliment. She didn’t think of herself as “elfish” even though she was on the short side.
She stepped toward him and thumped his chest with the back of her hand. Her words with laced with mock annoyance. “I am not elfish! I’m just petite. There’s a difference. And what are you cooking up in here, Martha Stewart? It smells amazing.”
Remy’s face lit up with pride as he grabbed her shoulders and gently led her backward and out of the kitchen.
“I’m making dinner….for you,” he said hesitantly, continuing to walk her out into the hallway. “So go get showered or changed and take a load off. Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes.”
Kenzie stood in her bedroom doorway staring incredulously into Remy’s crystal blue eyes. He was making her dinner? For her? The confusion over her feelings from the previous night, and the surprise over his sweet actions toward her, had her stuttering in disbelief.
“Y–you made dinner for me? What’s the occasion?”
He turned his head and glanced away, as if embarrassed, but then returned to meet her gaze. His lips quirked into a soft smile.
“I just thought you might have had a long day on your feet and could use a good meal. It’s no big deal. Just lasagna, salad and bread sticks.”
Kenzie was wholly unfamiliar with the surge of joy that coursed through her body at that moment. She wanted to throw her arms around him and hug him with all her might. But part of her still wanted to give him a swift kick in the nuts for tormenting her like he did the night before. Men. So damn confusing.
Feeling almost faint from exhaustion and hunger, she wasn’t about to argue over his thoughtfulness. If he wanted to make her dinner as a show of his remorsefulness, then by all means, she wouldn’t complain. She’d eat it up – both his cooking and his sweetness.
He stood a few feet in front of her at the entrance of her bedroom. Pressing her hands to his chest, which rippled under her fingertips, she gently pressed him backwards.
“Well, it smells delicious and I’m totally game. Go finish up and I’ll get cleaned up. I’ll be right out.”
Remy turned back toward the kitchen when Kenzie stopped him with a hand on his wrist. His arm was hot to her touch and sent a zing through her body, as if he should be wearing a sign that said Warning: High Voltage. Remy’s head swung back over his shoulder with a startled look.
She gave him a coy smile. “You look way better in an apron than Martha Stewart does. Just saying…”
****
The dinner Remy had made her was so good that she over indulged and had seconds before she could even stop herself. After cleaning off her plate the second time, she leaned back in her chair and rubbed her belly like it was a good luck charm. She sighed with contentment, giving Remy a wide smile as he watched her from across the table.
Remy’s hand motioned toward the open wine bottle, asking in a non-verbal gesture if she wanted more. Nodding her head, he poured the remaining Pinot in both their glasses and leaned back in his chair.
Kenzie played with the rim of her glass, her finger stroking over the edge, watching him take the remaining bites of his food.
“You’ve been hiding your skills very stealthily, Mr. Martins. What else have you been hiding from me?” She eyed him suspiciously, trying to access what other little secrets he might be keeping to himself. She already knew he was an excellent guitar player and song writer, as well as a fabulous kisser. She unconsciously touched her lips with her fingertips, running over their softness with her index finger.
His blue eyes went from a bright crystalline to dark denim, his fascination very clear as he watched her finger move in slow circles. Clearing his throat, he took a last gulp of his wine and placed the empty glass on the table in front of him.
“My mother was part Italian. She grew up in New York in a very large Italian family, and they were always making homemade pastas and sauces. And when she and my dad moved out to California, where they didn’t know what authentic Italian food was even if it “bit ’em in the asses,” she cooked all the time.” He smiled wistfully, running his hands through his tousled hair.
“I remember my friends Jake and Colin were always finding excuses to stay over at my house so they could eat my mother’s food. She’d make two trays of lasagna, and we’d end up eating it all. And then we’d have dessert! God, I miss her cannoli. It was like pastry heaven on earth. I still to this day haven’t found anything that compares. It’s a wonder I wasn’t an obese child.”
His smile faded as Kenzie watched the light that had sparked in his eyes over the memory quickly dissipate, like water dousing the flames.
“You still miss her, don’t you?”
All she really knew about Remy’s family was that his father was Luc Martins and he’d left his mother and him when Remy was fifteen. She also knew his mom died when he was a senior in high school, but knew little else other than that.
Remy picked up his plate and scooted back in his chair. His face was filled with a sadness that could only be painted by grief. “Yeah. I do miss her. She was an incredible woman. Sweet, loving, giving. And I took her for granted when she was alive. I’m just like my dad in that respect.”
He slammed the plate down into the sink with disgust, the sound reverberating throughout the kitchen. Kenzie stopped abruptly, taking a few steps back, nervous of his violent outburst. Ever since Seth, anything could trigger her fear, especially loud noises. Remy must have sensed her fear over his physical reaction, and let out a long exaggerated sigh, his shoulders raising and lowering in finality.
“Sorry. Whenever I think about her, scared and dying, my father off traipsing around the world without even a backward glance and my eighteen-year-old self, trying desperately to be a man and failing miserably – well, it just guts me. If I could have had just one more minute with her, I’d tell her that I loved her and that I was so sorry that life had been so cruel to her. She didn’t deserve that.”
Kenzie closed the distance between them and gently placed her hand on his back, in the curved spot between his shoulder blades. The tension rolled off him in droves. Leaning in, she touched her nose to the back of his soft plaid shirt, the spicy and all male scent of him filling her head and making her dizzy with want - reminding her of what was and what might have been with him.
“Remy – I have no doubt that your mom knew exactly how much you loved her,” she said in a soft whisper, her arms now circling around his middle until they clasped together at his belly. “If you had shown even half the kindness to her that you have to me sin
ce we met, she was one very loved woman. She must have been very special, because she raised an amazing son, who in my humble opinion, turned out to be an amazing man.”
He laid his hands over the top of hers, his thumb caressing her in reverie – a sweet, dreamy touch. Remy turned around so their bodies were face-to-face, the top of her head fitting snug under his chin. Pulling back, he looked down into her face, his eyes awash with bittersweet sadness.
“Thanks, Kenz. That means a lot that you’d think that.”
“You’re welcome.”
Lifting her head to him, she realized in that moment that she had probably shared more of her feelings about him than she had meant to and now found herself in a precarious situation, with their arms wrapped around each other - their bodies pressed tight. She could feel her nipples harden against the pressure of chest. He felt so good. So solid. So perfect.
He let his head drop down to her neck, his lips barely skimming the edge of her ear. His hair tickled her face and she thought of all the other places on her body that she’d like to experience that same sensation. She forced the thought away, but couldn’t stop the warmth from flooding her body, specifically between her legs. His hands idly stroked her back, shifting down to the small of her back. She felt his warm breath against her neck and the steady thump, thump, thump of his heartbeat against her chest.
Suddenly vulnerable and a bit too close for comfortable, she jerked back – shivering at the lost warmth and the space between them.
“Hey,” she smiled brightly. “How about we crack open another bottle and finish those songs we started working on the other day? I’ve been playing with something I think you might like, but I need your help with it.”
“Yeah, sure. That sounds good.”
Kenzie felt the sting of remorse after his quick acquiesce but chose not to address it. There was no way she was going to go any further with him, regardless of how good it felt to be in his arms. Despite the fact that her heart and body were aching to feel more of his touch. To get lost in his kisses. To open herself wide and be consumed by his heat.
Instead, she would throw herself into song writing and let her words articulate what her body wasn’t willing to show.
Chapter Twelve
Remy laid his head back on the couch and closed his eyelids, listening to the beautiful sounds of Kenzie’s melodic chords and voice carry him into a dream-like state.
They’d spent the past three hours collaborating over several songs, penning the lyrics and music as if they’d been working together for years, not a few weeks. For some reason, they just clicked. Their writing styles were simpatico, their sense of humors both dirty and wicked and from what he knew, their love lives both empty.
It was difficult to get anything close to personal from Kenzie, except when it came out in her lyrics – but even those were somewhat cryptic. She was as guarded as Fort Knox, and it was only by his own astute powers of deduction that Remy was able to conclude that she had no love loss with her ex or her father. But other than that? Nothing. She was a closed book. Tight lipped and impenetrable. She obviously had secrets that she kept hidden and didn’t want to get too close.
But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t keep trying to forage what he could about Kenzie’s history and where she came from. He wanted to get to know all of her. She was all he could think about these days.
Remy hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep until a sharp poke on his chest had him jolting upright from his resting place.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” she said, jostling him on the shoulder. “You’re snoring. Loudly.”
He opened his eyes to find her sitting next to him on the edge of the couch - in a pink satiny robe. Her silk-covered hips touched the indentation between his waist and torso. The unexpected site, along with the feel of her body against his, and her soft touch on his arm had him hard and wanting in seconds. There was also the fact that they’d been on this very couch together less than a week ago, getting hot and heavy, and, by the look in her eyes, she was possibly thinking the same thing. She adjusted her sitting position and clenched her robe tight at her chest.
“You must’ve been tired because you zonked out. Either that or the wine did a great job of sending you off to la-la land. You should probably go to bed.”
She stood up next to him and dropped her hand to help him up, a small smile edging at the corners of her mouth. The bottom hem of her robe ended just above her knees, the silky material clinging to her even silkier thighs. Remy took her hand and pulled himself up into a sitting position, swinging his legs so that his feet touched the floor beside her.
Reluctantly letting go but remaining seated, his hands instinctively reached out to grasp onto her hips, just below her waist. He remained still, as all the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room, the only movement was her body stiffening in response. He watched her expectantly, her lips drawing into a tight line, and her eyes closing briefly. Kenzie inhaled deeply, the movement sending her blonde trusses shifting over her shoulders, shielding her face from his view.
Remy nestled his forehead against her silk-covered hips, filling his lungs with an air of determination. Waiting. Hoping. Stalling. He wanted this. He wanted her. His head lifted to her face, as she expelled a small sound from her throat, his eyes penetrating her intense green gaze.
He saw then that she wanted him, too. Desire alighted her face. It was now or never. He’d go slow, with no expectations other than to make her feel good. To prove to her that they would be good together.
Remy parted his legs as he settled her body into the V, nestling her tight, her belly mere inches from his face. She sucked in a deep breath and he leaned in, the warmth of her penetrating through the thin material.
“No, Remy,” she said, with little conviction. “I…I don’t want to ruin this.”
“This won’t ruin things, Kenzie. I promise you. It’ll only make it better,” he whispered, raising his hands to the knot in her robe. He gave her a tremulous smile, and he let out a short breath. “You’re all I ever think about. All the fucking time. I want to be near you, close to you. With you. You drive me out of my ever-loving mind. When I’m near you, all I can think about is touching you – to feel your sexy, soft skin against my lips. To kiss every inch of your body so I can hear what sounds you make. And to make you come against my tongue. I want you so bad. I can be so good to you if you let me.”
Whatever he said in his rambling that caused her to give in, he might never know, but there was no time to stop and analyze it. Somewhere in that moment, she let down her guard. She accepted the truth in his words and in his heart. Kenzie shifted on her feet, placing her hands on his shoulders and let out a long sigh.
“Okay,” she murmured, her fingers wrapping around his neck.
He didn’t wait for another word, his hands moving deftly to the gap of material between her breasts, slipping his fingers between the soft silk of her robe, where underneath his touch was met with a similarly silky cami covering her torso. His thumb skimmed over a hardened nipple poking through the material, sending a heady wave of excitement straight to his groin. Although he’d seen and felt her breasts the other night, he hadn’t had the time to luxuriate over them like he’d wanted to. But tonight he would. They were fucking perfect, and he would take his time exploring every inch of them.
Untying the belt and lowering the robe from her shoulders, it fell in a soft heap to the floor behind her. She shivered. He liked that. Remy’s fingers reached for the hem of her tank, lifting it up to expose her belly. He leaned in and circled the flat of her stomach with his tongue. She tasted so good – something crisp and light, smelling faintly of cucumber and melon. He trailed his hands along the soft curve of her belly, his fingers fanning out and circling around to her lower back. She moaned appreciatively as he brought her closer, his lips teasing her skin. His kisses marking her as his.
His hands rolled down over the smooth slopes of her bottom, gently squeezing the round globes, pressing his f
ingertips into her flesh. She had the most perfect ass he’d ever seen, and now touched. His fingers brushed across the pink silk material of her underwear – which was sexy as fuck, but was now in the way of what he coveted.
“This needs to come off.” His voice was raspy with desire.
Tunneling his thumbs in the elastic of the waistband at her hips, he slid the panties down over the curves of her thighs, past her knees to her ankles. She grabbed hold of his shoulders as she stepped out of them. His mouth watered at the sight before him. He wanted to bury his face between her legs and never come up for air. His blood pumped south, his solid erection eagerly anticipating what he was planning to do next.
He wanted to give her everything she needed. Everything she deserved. All the delirious sensations that a body can handle. And that started with his mouth between her legs.
“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he admitted, his hands caressing the backs of her thighs, reaching between them and stroking the supple skin, his thumb drawing a line between her ass cheeks to her slit. “To make you come against my tongue. Would you like that?”
His finger moved forward, flicking between her legs, finding her wet with lust. His mouth moved in, poised in front of her, his tongue darting out to taste her heady responsiveness. He growled from the taste of her. “Fuck, you taste unbelievable.”
“Oh my God.” He could feel her sway over him, her knees nearly buckling.
Wordlessly, he eased himself off the couch and onto his knees, sitting back on his haunches. Turning her hips, he maneuvered her down on the couch, guiding her to a sitting position. His hands pressed her knees wide, his arm hooking under one to bring her leg onto his shoulder.
“Oh my God,” she said again, in pleasure and torment, as his mouth began to worship between her spread legs. Those were the only words she managed to say as he began his sensual assault on her body. He would be relentless until she was writhing against him, and coming undone under his skillful ministrations.
