Huge Deal (21 Wall Street Book 3)

by Lauren Layne

  “Let me guess. That’s my fault.”

  “I don’t know, Kennedy,” she said with a small sigh. “It’s probably a little of both of us.”

  He stepped forward. “Jack told me I have a tendency to make things more complex than I need to, so that’s on me. But what about you? Why haven’t you let us be easy?”

  Her eyes locked on his face. He was as intense as ever, his trademark scowl firmly in place, but there was something else at work as well. Something she’d never seen, and she thought for sure she’d seen it all. The thought that there were facets of his personality she hadn’t yet discovered was both daunting and thrilling.

  Kate swallowed. “I don’t know why.”

  “I think you do.” His eyes were blazing with emotion. “What word?”

  She shook her head. “Did I just black out and miss part of our conversation? What are you talking about?”

  “The word you’d use to describe me. From that night at dinner.”

  She let out an exasperated, frustrated laugh. “Not that again. Just—”

  “What word!” he shouted.

  She froze in shock at the emotion she heard in his voice. It was more than frustration; he sounded nearly . . . desperate.

  The two of them stood there, with nothing but the sound of their breathing, his every bit as heavy as hers. Kate refused to look at him as her heart beat one confused, frantic beat after another, her gaze locked on the door that would end whatever this was.

  This wasn’t the Kennedy she knew. He didn’t look at her like this. He didn’t shout.

  And yet here they were.

  Kennedy’s head turned slightly toward her, and though she told herself he was too tall for her to feel the heat of his breath on her cheek, she swore she felt it. Or perhaps that was just the heat of his gaze . . .

  “What. Word.” His voice was quiet again, and his hand reached for her.

  Knowing she wouldn’t be able to handle his touch, she reared backward. “Blind!” she shouted, moving away from him. “You want to know what word I’d use to describe you, Kennedy Dawson? You’re completely blind. You can’t see what’s right in front of you, and you never could. You’re so damn controlled and completely oblivious to . . . to . . .” Her brain caught up to her mouth, and she stopped herself just in time.

  But he didn’t let her off the hook, his gaze dark and unreadable. “What am I oblivious to?”

  “Nothing.” She licked her lips nervously.

  “Don’t chicken out now, Kate,” he said, moving steadily toward her.

  “Please,” she whispered. “Don’t.”

  Kennedy froze.

  “I just . . .” She pointed awkwardly around him toward the door. “Can we just go back to the party?”

  His eyes dimmed slightly, the heat fading as he watched her closely, as though studying every feature, trying to read her. “Just . . . one more question.”

  “What?” Her voice didn’t wobble, but it was a close call, and she fixed her eyes once more on her escape route, torn between the safety beyond and the thrill of whatever was happening in this room.

  “When you kissed Jack . . .”

  Her eyes flew back to his.

  “Was it awkward like you feared?”

  “No,” she answered immediately.

  His eyes narrowed. “No? Why’d you break up with him, then?”

  “Kennedy.”

  “Kate.”

  She forced herself to meet his eyes, remembering her conversation with Sabrina. She realized that her friend was right—that she’d never really be able to move on with Jack or anyone until she got this man out of her system.

  “It wasn’t awkward,” she said quietly, watching his face. “But it wasn’t special. And I’m holding out for special.”

  She meant it as a challenge and saw from his too-quick blink that he knew as soon as he heard it.

  She held his gaze. Waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  Then she saw the moment he decided to turn down her challenge and stepped away from her.

  Her heart crumpled. “I’ve got to go,” she said, brushing past him.

  “Kate.”

  She ignored him. Thank goodness it was a small space, because she was across the room in seconds, feeling the heavy weight of her hair finally pulling free of its tidy knot. But she didn’t pause to fix it, didn’t pause at all as she fumbled with the stupid ship doorknob, wrenching it open—

  It slammed shut again before she could leave the room.

  “Would you just give me a goddamn minute?” he growled behind her. “This is new to me. I’m trying to think—”

  She whipped around to face him. “That’s your problem, Kennedy,” she snapped, trying to shove his big hand away from the door so she could get out. “You’re all thought, no action—”

  She gasped as Kennedy reached out, his fingers tangling roughly in her hair, tugging back so her face tilted up to his.

  Then his mouth took hers.

  17

  Saturday, April 20

  Kennedy’s kiss was hard and unapologetic. Kate could taste the frustration on his lips, feel it in the glorious tug of his hand in her hair.

  It matched her own frustration—years’ worth—and she relished it.

  Her hands found his lapel, fingers gripping hard as she opened her mouth to the rough demand of his. He went still, but only for a split second before he slid his free arm around her, pulling her much smaller frame against his. Kate gasped at the contact, and Kennedy took full advantage, his lips nudging hers apart to deepen the kiss.

  Her tongue touched his tentatively, then more confidently as he let out a slight groan, pulling her closer.

  Kate went to her toes, her arms winding around his neck as she gave in completely. Kennedy bent down to her height, his hands sliding around her hips to her butt, and lifted her. They tumbled to the small couch, Kennedy rolling her beneath him as he ran kisses over her throat and along her jaw before capturing her face once more.

  Kate hovered somewhere between disbelief and joy that this was happening, that this man she’d needed for what felt like her entire life finally needed her back.

  “This dress has been killing me all night,” he said, nuzzling her throat once more.

  “I didn’t know you saw it,” she said, gasping as his hand slipped beneath her to palm the bare skin of her back.

  “Oh, I saw,” he said, nibbling his way to her shoulder. “I saw every damn thing. Every time you laughed with him, with anyone. You never laugh that way with me.”

  “You’re not that funny.”

  He nipped her exposed shoulder, just hard enough to make her gasp out a laugh, and her fingers sank into his thick hair, pulling his mouth back to hers. Kennedy kissed her but kept his weight on his elbows, clearly trying not to crush her. But she wanted to be crushed. She wanted all of it.

  Her hands slipped beneath his tux jacket, her fingers spreading wide against his warm, firm back as she tried to pull him down. More.

  He let out a slight laugh. “Kate—”

  Her hips tilted up to his, half-instinctive, half-intentional. He groaned, and she did it again, this time definitely intentional, rubbing against the unmistakable hardness.

  “Jesus.” His mouth slammed down on hers again, and this time he gave himself all of the way over, his body hard and heavy on hers, his erection nudging at the V of her thighs.

  Kate was hot everywhere, every effort to assuage the ache between her legs only causing a bigger ache. It didn’t help that Kennedy kept his hands firmly in gentleman’s territory, skimming over her hips, her waist, along her arms, but making no effort to untie the halter of her dress or sneak beneath her skirt.

  Her eyes opened as he nuzzled her jawline, doubt creeping in. She was dying for him, and he seemed perfectly content in first-base territory.

  She glanced down as she realized he’d stopped kissing her, and she saw him looking over the length of her body, his han
d skimming along her waist.

  “Kennedy?”

  The look on his face eased her doubt slightly. It was tortured and needing and everything she was feeling.

  He swallowed dryly. “We’ve got to stop. We’ve got to stop now, or I won’t stop at all, and you deserve better than to go from a first kiss to—”

  She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and brought his hand to her breast, holding her breath in hopes he wouldn’t be disappointed. To say she was small was an understatement.

  But Kennedy’s body tensed, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He moved his hand slightly, and they both groaned when his thumb rasped over her nipple, hard and yearning beneath the pink satin of her gown.

  Kate had known her past sexual experiences were kind of meh, but the fact that Kennedy Dawson’s touch over her clothes made her hotter than anything she’d experienced in the past made her realize how much trouble she was really in.

  He kissed her again, his hand palming over her, his fingers toying with the nipple of one breast before sliding over to tease the other, back and forth until she was thrashing on the couch, her dress inching ever higher on her thighs, Kennedy’s hand occasionally drifting down, closer and closer to bare skin—

  “Jesus Christ!” The oath sounded a half second after the door burst open, slamming against the wall.

  Kennedy sprang back, moving off her before Kate even realized they’d been interrupted.

  “Dude, lock the door.”

  Still dazed, Kate sat up partially, to glance toward the now-open doorway, then flopped back down again with a groan.

  “Get out!” Kennedy snarled.

  His youngest brother did the opposite, stepping all of the way into the room, but at least he closed the door.

  “Mom and Dad were worried about you. I’ll tell them they were right to worry, because I’m pretty sure Jack’s going to kill you.”

  “No, he’s not,” Kate said with a sigh, adjusting her dress as best she could, and then pushing up into a sitting position. “Hi, Fitz.”

  She liked Fitz, and he liked her, but his expression was cool as he gazed at her now. “Kate.”

  “Don’t look at her like that. She’s not with Jack,” Kennedy snapped.

  “Oh, come on—”

  “I’m not,” Kate rushed to say. “I mean, I am, but just as friends . . .”

  She broke off as she realized she didn’t really have much ground to stand on. True, she and Jack weren’t dating, and she hadn’t cheated on him. But she had come here with him, and just last week he’d kissed her—

  “Oh God.” Kate covered her face with her hands.

  Kennedy’s hand rested briefly on her shoulder. “Don’t do that. Jack will be fine. He knows.”

  She dropped her hands and looked up at him. “Knows what?”

  “Yeah, knows what?”

  “Shut up, Fitz. Better yet, leave,” Kennedy said, not bothering to glance at his younger, albeit taller, brother.

  “What does Jack know?” Kate demanded, more forcefully this time.

  Kennedy looked away briefly, then seemed to force himself to look back at her. “I told him I was looking for you.”

  “Oh, well, I’m sure he’ll be relieved to know that you found her on her back, with her dress jacked up to her—”

  “Fitz.” Kennedy gave his brother his full attention now, his tone leaving no room for argument.

  Kate expected Fitz to push, but the brothers had a silent standoff, Fitz’s blue eyes studying Kennedy for a long moment before moving to Kate. Then he shook his head and left.

  “What was that?” Kate asked. She and her sister had their own kind of silent communication, but this was a whole other level of mind reading.

  “Brother talk.”

  “Oh yeah?” she asked lightly. “What did you say?”

  Kennedy looked away. “Fitz knows.”

  “Well, that’s great,” she said a little testily. “Jack knows, and now Fitz knows. Sure would be great if Kate knew.”

  She expected Kennedy to move away, to change the subject, but instead he stepped forward, looking breathtakingly desirable with his hair a mess, his tie askew.

  “That you’re mine,” he said quietly, reaching out and gently touching a knuckle to the corner of her mouth. “They know that you’re mine now.”

  18

  Monday, April 22

  Kennedy knocked on Ian’s open door. “Got a sec?”

  Ian glanced up. “I’m having déjà vu. Wasn’t it exactly one week ago you came storming into my office with that exact look on your face, brooding about your brother and Kate?”

  “You free or not?” Kennedy said, wanting to get this over with before he lost his nerve. He’d been running this conversation over and over in his head for about twenty-four hours now.

  Time to get it done.

  “Yeah, sure,” Ian said, waving him in.

  Kennedy nodded at Ian’s desk phone as he sat. “Can you see if Matt’s free?” He was hoping he’d get lucky and have to say this only once.

  Ian picked up his phone and punched the button for Matt’s extension. “Got a minute? Kennedy’s in here looking sulky and weird . . . Yeah, more than usual . . . I know. But yes, it is possible.”

  Kennedy rolled his eyes, and a minute later, Matt came into Ian’s office.

  “Close the door,” Kennedy said.

  “Yes, sir,” Matt muttered, shutting it and then sitting beside Kennedy. He studied him a moment, then looked at Ian. “Damn, you were right. Extra pensive.”

  “Should we get Kate in here, too?” Ian asked.

  Kennedy forced himself not to react to her name. He knew why Ian asked—Kate was as much a part of their team as the three of them. But the thing was, he was here to talk about Kate.

  “She’s not here,” Matt said.

  Ian glanced at his watch. “Really?”

  “Nope. Hasn’t come in yet. I thought she was just in the restroom, but I’ve gone by her desk, like, five times, and her computer’s not even on. And the phone’s still set to the weekend voice mail.”

  Kennedy frowned at this. She hadn’t been at her desk when he’d gotten in or walked by, but he assumed he was just missing her while she was in the kitchen or away from her desk.

  She wasn’t here?

  “Huh. Okay, well, she’s allowed to be an hour late for once in her life,” Ian said. “Kennedy, what’s up?”

  Kennedy had never been one to ease in to things, and he knew it wouldn’t get any easier the longer he waited, so he laid it out for them. Bluntly. “I broke the pact.”

  “What pact?” Matt asked distractedly, typing something on his phone.

  Ian caught on quicker. “Cannon.”

  Matt looked at Ian, then at Kennedy. “Oh.” He straightened, his thumb locking his phone as he gave the conversation his full attention. “That pact.”

  Kennedy looked between his two friends, looking for anger or disgust, but he saw only curiosity and maybe a flicker of concern.

  “What happened?”

  Good question. What had happened on Saturday night? One moment he’d been trying to assess if she had any lingering feelings for Jack, not sure he could survive it if she did. The next moment his mouth had been on hers, his body above hers . . .

  “I don’t know,” Kennedy said in response to Ian’s question, leaning forward so both elbows were on his knees, trying to gather his thoughts. “She was at my parents’ anniversary party this weekend.”

  “As your date?”

  Kennedy looked up. “As Jack’s date.”

  “Damn,” Matt breathed.

  “They were there just as friends. They’d broken up earlier that week, but it was still . . .” He stared at his hands. “Not well done of me.”

  “The hookup or you cuckolding your brother?”

  “I didn’t . . .” Kennedy shook his head. “Jack was fine with it.”

  It was true. Even if Fitz hadn’t lorded over the situation like some sort of nun, es
corting Kate home so that Kennedy could “come clean” to Jack, he would have told his brother what happened.

  Not only had Jack not been upset, he hadn’t even seemed surprised.

  “He was fine with it,” Kennedy repeated before looking at his friends. “And I need to know if you guys are as well.”

  “Why? We’ve never dated Kate.”

  “I know. But the pact . . .”

  “Fuck that weird pact,” Matt said. “I mean, whatever, I never minded it, but that was your deal from the very beginning.”

  Ian looked smugly at Kennedy. “Told you.”

  “Yeah, you did. Still, we made a deal, and I broke it. That’s not right.”

  “I don’t even know if I want to know this,” Matt said. “But did you break it all of the way? Or just . . . bend it? Actually, no. Don’t tell me.”

  “Yeah, don’t,” Ian agreed. “Though, I’ve got to ask . . . What’s the plan here?”

  “I don’t have a plan.”

  Ian frowned. “You always have a plan.”

  “Yeah, well, not with her,” Kennedy said, sitting back in frustration. “It just happened.”

  “Do you want it to happen again?”

  Yes. Again and again, this time not on a hard, cramped couch on a boat. This time without his youngest brother’s interruption. When it happened again, she wouldn’t be his brother’s date, and he wouldn’t stop until he found out if the skin of her thighs was as sweet as the taste of her shoulders, if she made those little noises when he—

  Kennedy shifted in his chair, and Ian made a knowing face. “Oh God. I regret asking.”

  “Wait, are you guys dating now?” Matt asked.

  “No. We’re . . . I don’t know,” he said irritably. “I kissed her, Fitz interrupted us, and then she went home so I could talk with Jack. But she didn’t return my texts or calls yesterday.”

  “Shit,” Ian muttered. “And now she’s a no-show this morning. Maybe you were right to set up that damn pact. But this doesn’t seem like her.”

  “Agreed,” Matt said. “Kate’s hardly one to run from something. Unless you were weird,” he said, glancing at Kennedy.

  “I wasn’t weird,” he snapped. “We were two consenting adults who . . . consented. I don’t regret what happened, only that I didn’t tell you guys first. A pact’s a pact, even if I was the only one who ever intended to honor it.”