Perfect Wreckage

by Cowles, Catherine

  “Why?” The question was devoid of emotion. Even the word sounded exhausted.

  “I don’t know. Just bored, I guess.”

  Kenna’s eyes gave a hint of something, just a flicker. “I’m not here for your amusement. Go away.”

  “Don’t be like that. Invite me in. We can play Scrabble.”

  Her lips pressed into a firm line. “I think my idea of Scrabble and yours are quite different.”

  I grinned. Now we were getting somewhere. A little poke here or there, and I might just get some life back into those eyes. “Dirty words are always allowed when I play. Think you can handle that?”

  Kenna rolled her eyes. “Why are you so juvenile? I will never understand what Harriet saw in you—”

  The spark that lit her eyes finally did it. The damn thing just pulled me right in, and before I could think better of it, my lips met Kenna’s. I stole the second half of her sentence and swallowed it whole, my hand slipping under the bun at the base of her neck and tangling in the loose strands.

  Kenna’s lips, soft and warm, parted on a gasp, and my tongue slipped inside. Her taste would forever be burned into my memory. The mint of toothpaste and something…more. Something I wouldn’t have the words to describe even if I were the world’s best poet.

  The buzz of my phone in my back pocket had me jerking back. Kenna blinked rapidly as if trying to clear her vision. The knot her hair had been wrapped in had come partially undone, and her cheeks were a shade of pink I’d never seen on her before.

  “Shit. I’m so sorry. That’s not—I didn’t come over here to maul you.” I quickly pulled out my phone, wanting to make sure it wasn’t Zoe calling. I scowled at Alicia’s name and shoved the phone back into my pocket. “I really did just want to make sure you were al—”

  Kenna cut off my words when she grabbed me by the back of the neck and brought my mouth to hers. She took with abandon, drinking me in. I gave her everything I had until another buzz from my pocket broke the trance yet again.

  “Kenna.” I placed my hands on her shoulders. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  She looked up at me, her eyes just a little wild. “I need to feel something. Anything but this numbness.” I couldn’t handle the pain that called out from those wild orbs. But it was her final word that undid me. “Please.”

  I brushed the hair that had fallen free from her bun away from her face. “I can make you feel.”

  12

  Kenna

  My hands had fisted in Crosby’s shirt, evidence of my desperation. I should’ve been embarrassed, mortified, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. The only thing I cared about was holding on to that flicker of feeling that had sparked in me when Crosby’s lips met mine. That spark seemed to drown out all of the nothingness I’d been feeling for the past two weeks.

  I should’ve been relieved at the numbness. I wasn’t at risk for letting emotion swallow me whole, for being like my mother, for scaring others away. But instead of relishing the numbness, it terrified me. And I would’ve given anything to just feel.

  Crosby backed me up, his broad body making its way into my home, pressing against me. I wanted to feel every inch of it. I wanted him to pin me to the bed and not let me up for hours. The hunger flashing through my veins was different from anything I’d ever felt before.

  “Bedroom?” Crosby’s voice was deeper somehow, gruffer, and the tone skittered across my skin in the most enticing way. I inclined my head to the left. He paused in his crowding of me, eyes locking with mine. “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.” There was a faint tremble in my voice, but whatever Crosby was looking for, he seemed to find because I was swept off my feet in an instant. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as his lips met mine again.

  We lost ourselves in the kiss, tongues tangling, teeth nipping lips. Crosby cursed as he ran into a wall, and I burst out laughing. “I missed hearing that sound.”

  I stilled as Crosby entered my bedroom. “What sound?”

  “Your laugh. The real one.”

  Crosby slowly lowered me to the floor, a delicious friction skimming my nerve-endings as he did so. “My real one?” The question was embarrassingly breathless.

  He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “You have your polite laugh. The one you give the world most of the time. But there’s this other one. It mostly comes out around Bell or Caelyn, the kids sometimes. It’s raw and real. You aren’t afraid of being too loud or worried about who’s around. I love that laugh.”

  I fought the urge to squirm in front of this man who clearly saw too much. Maybe this was a bad idea. Crosby’s hands skimmed down my neck, dusting over my shoulders. His fingers swept across my nipples, circling them as they peaked and pressed into the thin fabric of my tank top. It might be a bad idea, but I was going to enjoy every second of it.

  My hands went to Crosby’s jeans, fingers struggling to get the button free. Crosby tugged his t-shirt over his head in one of those smooth moves I’d only seen in carefully choreographed movie scenes. My hands stilled when his jeans came unbuttoned. “Do you have a condom?” I was on the pill, but I didn’t take chances. Not anymore.

  Crosby slipped his wallet from his back pocket and tugged a condom from the fold. I laughed, but it sounded a little manic. “Just like high school, right? I hope that thing didn’t expire a decade ago.”

  His lips twitched. “I’m always prepared.”

  “A true Boy Scout.”

  “Kenna?”

  “Yes?”

  “How about we have less being a smartass and more touching?”

  I raised a brow. “I’m great at multitasking. I’m sure I can handle both.” My hand slipped into the band of his black boxer briefs and wrapped around his shaft.

  Crosby bit out a curse. “I stand corrected.”

  I grinned. “I like a man who can admit when he’s wrong.” I gave him a few lazy strokes, relishing the feel of smooth skin wrapped around the hardness beneath.

  “I’m wrong. So wrong, I’ll never be right. Just as long as you keep doing that.”

  I chuckled. “I think we can come up with something a little better.”

  Crosby’s eyes flared. In a split-second, my hand was released, and I was airborne, flying back and landing in an undignified sprawl on the mattress. “Damn straight.”

  A giggle erupted out of my mouth as I bounced. I didn’t giggle. It was girlie and naïve, but I couldn’t lie and say the sound hadn’t just escaped me. I pressed my lips together to keep another from escaping.

  Crosby’s lips twitched as he stared down at me. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul that under that graceful and dignified shell is a woman who giggles.” I scowled at him, and he burst out laughing.

  I went to sit up, but he was on me in a flash, lips skimming over my neck and up to just below my ear. “Oh, no, you’re not running away from this.”

  I fought to keep my breathing under control. “Then stop laughing and get to work.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Crosby slipped the straps of my tank top off my shoulders, the glide of his fingertips lighting a path of sensation across my skin. He pulled the fabric down, exposing my breasts to the air, then my navel. He grasped the band of my sleep shorts and panties and tugged them free. Then he froze. I had the sudden urge to squirm. “You are so damn gorgeous.”

  Heat hit my cheeks. Giggling and now blushing. It was as if I were drunk on the hormones in the air. I hooked my toes in the pockets of Crosby’s jeans that sat loosely on his hips. “Off.”

  He grinned. “I live to serve.” In a flash, he was bare to me. I watched in fascination as he rolled the condom over himself. I’d always thought that action to be clumsy, awkward, but Crosby somehow made it sexy. The movement was smooth, self-assured, and my lower belly clenched with want.

  He stepped forward, letting his fingers trail up my inner thighs, lighting nerve endings that all seemed to culminate at my core. A single finger trailed up my cent
er.

  “Crosby.” It was part reprimand, part plea.

  “You want something, Brown Eyes?” He kept stroking, teasing. He seemed to be in no hurry. Yet no touch glanced over that bundle of nerves that would take me where I wanted to go.

  “Stop messing around.”

  Crosby chuckled. “I could do this all night. The feel of you, so smooth on my fingers. I like playing with you.”

  I let out what almost sounded like a growl and circled my legs around his waist, trying to urge him forward. He grinned, leaning over me, his lips a breath away from mine, his tip bumping against my entrance. “Are you ready to feel?”

  “Yes.” The word came out before I could even think about the wisdom of it. In one long stroke, he entered me.

  My eyes watered at the feeling of fullness, of experiencing something other than the numbness that seemed to have invaded every cell of my being since Harriet’s funeral. “More.” This time, my word was a plea, a demand.

  Crosby began moving, slowly at first and then picking up speed. Each glide drove me just a little bit higher, had me reaching for more—the pleasure, the bite of pain, anything that told me I was alive.

  My hips rose to meet his, an instinctive dance that would only be ours. A rhythm unique to our bodies and our pleasure. With the smallest shift in our angles, Crosby was suddenly deeper. I felt him everywhere. Each time he hit that spot, sparks ricocheted throughout my body.

  “Get there with me, Kenna.”

  My name emerged in a growl from his mouth and drove me even higher. My muscles tightened and bunched as Crosby thrust. I strained and searched, calling for the thing I wanted most. A rough thumb stroked across the bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs. One single motion, scant millimeters of movement, and my world broke apart.

  Nothing but sensation surrounded me. I wanted to live in this place forever and never leave. To always know how alive I could be.

  Crosby arched, letting out a guttural sound as he came. He collapsed on the bed, rolling us so that I was on top of him. Our breathing matched as we gulped in air. My body still buzzed and tingled as if it were just regaining feeling after being frozen for hours. I kept my eyes closed, not wanting to lose the moment.

  Crosby’s heart beat against my cheek as he trailed fingers up and down my spine. “I knew you were hiding a hellcat under that smooth, composed surface.”

  I froze. Muscles tensing and breath catching. Hellcat. What had I just done? I’d basically begged Crosby to have sex with me. Demanded that he hurry up with the job. What was wrong with me?

  “Kenna? Are you okay?” There was nothing but concern in Crosby’s voice as he brushed damp hair away from my face. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  I shook my head.

  “What is it?”

  “That—that wasn’t me. I don’t—I’m not.”

  The smile that split Crosby’s face made me want to punch him. “You’re allowed to do something that doesn’t fall into your ten-year plan. Live a little. You’d be surprised how fun life can be.”

  I glowered at Crosby, pushing up and off him, ignoring the wince that wanted to surface at the loss of him. Crosby cursed.

  “I live plenty. I like my life just the way it is. And part of that existence does not include sex with random men.”

  Crosby sat up, a hint of anger flashing across his handsome features. “I’m not some random person. We’ve known each other for years. And there has always been something between us, a chemistry that burned below the surface. You’ve just been too scared to admit it. To face it.”

  I bristled. “I am not scared. Not of you. Not of anything.” It was all lies. I was afraid all the time. Petrified. But I wasn’t going to let this man see it. No one got that piece of me.

  “Oh, no?”

  “No. In fact, I think we should keep doing this.”

  Crosby froze. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. “Doing what, exactly?”

  “Having sex.” I did my best to keep my face neutral, but inside, I was screaming, what are you thinking? “Like you said, we obviously have good chemistry, why not keep this going? I’m not scared. Are you?”

  Crosby grinned. “I’ll give you all the feelings you want, on two conditions.”

  I pursed my lips. If Crosby and I kept this arrangement up, I just might kill the man. “And that would be?”

  “First, you go on some adventures with me. You need to live a little, and not just in the bedroom.” At my scowl, he arched a brow. “No adventures, no orgasms.”

  “Fine. But nothing that can get me killed.”

  “Deal.”

  “What else?”

  Crosby smiled, but there was a hint of something just a little bit sad that tinged the expression. “This is all we’ll ever be. You can’t ask me for more.”

  I rolled my eyes heavenward. “I think I can restrain myself.”

  “Then I believe we have ourselves a deal.”

  “Good. Then get out of my house. I need some sleep.”

  The order was a mistake, because Crosby lunged, grabbing me around the waist and throwing me over his shoulder. “First, we need to shower. Gotta make sure you’re clean for bed.”

  He did make sure. And every last inch of me thanked him for it.

  13

  Crosby

  “All of this is for me?”

  The disbelief in Zoe’s eyes nearly broke something in me. “It is.”

  She blinked down at the pile of items in front of her. There were new clothes, coloring books, markers, stickers, and who knew what else. There was also a backpack and a nice, sturdy duffle bag in bright purple. Penny and her knitting club had outdone themselves, as always.

  “I never get brand-new…” Zoe’s voice was soft, as if she were just speaking to herself.

  “Well, you do now.”

  “I don’t have to use the garbage bag anymore?”

  I struggled to keep my expression gentle. So many kids in the foster system had nothing to move their belongings around in, and they were left with only a trash bag. I didn’t even want to think about what that did to a kid’s self-worth. “No garbage bag for you.”

  “I love it. Thank you, Crosby.” Zoe struggled to meet my gaze but forced herself to do it. I was so damn proud of her in that moment. It was always like this the first few meetings, a bit of backsliding on the progress you’d made during the session before, but we’d find our way.

  “You’re welcome, but it was actually my friend, Penny, and her knitting club that got it all for you.”

  “But they don’t even know me.”

  My gut twisted at her confusion. “I told them about you and what an awesome kid you are. They wanted to do something nice for you.”

  Zoe’s eyes began to water. If she cried, I wouldn’t be able to handle it. “W-will you tell them thank you?”

  “You got it. So, what do you think? Soccer today, or do you want to work on your coloring?”

  Zoe beamed. “Soccer. Did you see the ball they got me?”

  “They got you a soccer ball?”

  She dug through the bag and pulled out a brand-new ball. “Now, I can practice all the time.” Zoe frowned down at the ball. “If the Calhouns let me.”

  I tensed at the little girl’s dejected expression. “Are they being nice to you?”

  She licked her lips and spun the ball in circles in her hands. “They’re fine.”

  It sure as hell didn’t sound fine. I didn’t care what Callie said, if Zoe didn’t look happier about her foster placement soon, I was going to make that unannounced visit. “You know you can tell me if you don’t like it there.”

  Her head popped up. “And I can go back with my mom?”

  “Sorry, Zo. You can’t go back with your mom right now. Not until she gets some help.”

  Zoe hugged the ball tighter to herself. “I don’t think I want to play today.”

  “That’s all right. We can do whatever you want to do.”

  She nod
ded and stared down at the ball, tracing patterns with her fingertip on the surface. That was how we spent the next hour. I didn’t push, just sat with Zoe. She was mad but didn’t yet believe that I was a safe place for her to express that anger. But I’d sit with her for as long as it took to gain her trust.

  As I helped to load her new belongings into Mrs. Calhoun’s beat-up station wagon, I made sure to snap a picture of the license plate. I knew Child Protective Services put foster families through rigorous checks, but it wouldn’t hurt to do a little digging on my own.

  “See you soon, Zoe.”

  “Bye, Crosby,” she mumbled and climbed into the car.

  A sinking feeling gripped me as I watched them go. And I’d learned not to ignore those feelings.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. Pulling it out, I glanced at the screen. That same six-one-seven area code that had been calling for days stared back at me. Alicia had called and texted six times last night alone. When I’d walked out of Kenna’s guest house at one a.m. and checked my phone, not even a reemergence of my ex could’ve ruined my buzz. But now, in the light of day, hours from when I’d gotten my last hit of Kenna’s skin, her scent, the feel of her around me, it cut a little deeper.

  I hit Accept. “When someone doesn’t return your texts or calls, the polite thing is to stop blowing up their phone.”

  “Crosby.” Alicia’s voice did that breathy thing it did when she wanted something. I’d always thought it was ridiculous, but four years ago, I’d thought it was adorably ridiculous. Now, it was simply annoying.

  “What do you want?” I beeped the locks on my truck and climbed in.

  “We need to talk. Can you come to Boston this weekend?”

  I laughed, but it had an ugly quality to it. “Only you would think I’d come when you call after you blew my life apart.”

  “Crosby…” She was whining now. “I made a mistake. I’m sorry. Isn’t that enough? Brent wasn’t the man I thought he was. But maybe that’s a blessing in disguise. You and I were so good together.”