Kit

by S. M. West

  “I’m glad you’re here to help out. You know, you could stick around this time. Settle down, Nomad.” I make a dig at his name. It’s stupid but I’m making a point. He’s got a home and doesn’t need to be on the road all the time.

  “Speaking of Caro.” He narrows his eyes. “How are you two doing?”

  My friend never shies away from the direct questions, despite not appreciating when someone does the same to him.

  “We weren’t talking about Caro.” I fold my arms over my chest, staring at the woman in question as she listens with interest to an elderly lady regale her about her prize-winning roses.

  “C’mon, I’m on your side, Kit. Always thought you were good for each other.”

  “We’re fine. Dealing, you know.” It's my turn to shrug, not willing to dwell on how good Caro and I could be if only we had the chance. “I want her safe. Her asshole ex set her up.”

  “Elliot Foley?” Logan’s only heard about her ex and I nod. “You want me to look into that?”

  He isn’t a criminal—well, not like Nick and I once were—but he’s on the fringes. How could he not be with his best friends up to our necks in that shit for most of our adult lives? He knows how to dip into that world, if needed.

  “Yeah, if you could toss Elliot’s name out onto the streets and show the picture of the pill around, that would be great.” He nods and that’s another burden off my shoulder.

  “Hey, you two all right?” Caro saunters over to us, holding what is her third or fourth glass of champagne. It’s near empty save for a sip.

  She’s a big girl and I’m not one to count drinks or tell someone what they can or can’t do, but she’s been downing those babies pretty fast.

  “We’re good.” Logan downs the little that’s left in her glass. “Want another one?”

  “You’re not drinking tonight.” I glare at my friend. I don’t need two of them shitfaced. “And besides, should you be drinking with a concussion?”

  “I’m fine.” A silly grin is plastered on her face as she looks to Logan. “I’d love another one.”

  Great, she’s tipsy when she should be alert and ready to react if needed. Logan grabs her glass, walking away without regard for me or what I just said. “I’ll be right back with another for you, milady.”

  My hand snakes out to grab his collar but he’s too fast, weaving through the crowd toward the bar or one of the servers carrying a tray full of champagne flutes.

  “I think you’ve had enough.” My hand wraps around her elbow to steady her.

  “Hey, lighten up. What’s the big deal? I’m just trying to have fun…” She glances around the room, her smile briefly faltering, curving down at the corners. “Trying to forget.”

  “Hey.” I lean in close, breathing her in, and my lips brush her warm cheek. “This will be over soon.”

  Gently, I rub my thumb along the inside of her arm and her cheeks flush, lips parting as she pants. I could so easily take her sweet mouth, taste her honeyed tongue and all that is Caro.

  She shivers, flashing me a sloppy smile, and turns into me, chest against mine. My knees nearly collapse out from under me.

  Carefully, I plant my hands on her waist, peering down at her as she gifts me a staggering view of the swell of her perfect tits. Jesus. She slays me.

  Need licks at my flesh and my chest hitches. Maybe we’ll never be together again, but even as I try to accept that, my entire being resists.

  “I’m fine and it’s only a few drinks.” Unaware of what she’s doing to me or maybe fully aware, her palms cruise up the lapels of my jacket and around my shoulder, fingers tangling into the hair at the nape of my neck.

  My cock is already hard, alive, but my heart’s suddenly heavier than it should be. Why does it feel as if I’m not breathing properly?

  “One drink is no big deal.” I force the words from my mouth, struggling for self-control. The urge to touch her, roam my hands all over her body, pushes and pulls at me. “You’ve had a few…” I pause and she blinks several times in succession, as if unable to focus easily. She’s drunk.

  “Caro, you need to be alert in case of anything. Don’t leave my side.”

  “Kiss me.” Her mouth is only inches from mine, and the wet tip of her tongue darts out to lick her lips.

  It would be so easy to capture her mouth. I’m getting drunk just on the thought and I haven’t had a drop of alcohol. Drunk on her. The heady scent and enthralling heat of her surrounds me.

  “Jesus Christ, Caro.”

  A dark figure casts a shadow over us and I glance behind her—Logan. My mouth tightens, body taut, at the full glass in his hand.

  I wrap my arms around her waist and shoot him a scathing look. If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll get rid of the drink. She’s oblivious to his presence, one hand now trailing across the stubble of my jaw.

  It’s the sweetest kind of torture, slowly killing me.

  My body is on fire.

  Logan nods in understanding and leaves. Air expels from my lungs, but nothing loosens inside me. I’m still battling with myself not to do something I can’t take back and it isn’t because I’d regret it.

  No, it’s because Caro may regret it once she’s sober.

  “Why won’t you kiss me?” Her finger traces the edge of my bottom lip and flames of want flicker through me. “I was so wrong to leave you. I’ve missed you so much. Every day.”

  She’s talking softly, more to herself than anything else and I stiffen, shocked at her words. Is this a confession or drunken rambling?

  I’ve loved this woman for as long as I can remember, and her words are both a balm, soothing a barely-healed wound, and an ache, like salt stinging in the same wound.

  Someone steps in behind her once more and I’m half expecting Logan, but it’s Victor Walsh. He’s staring wordlessly at us and I want to punch him. He put his hands on her as if he had a right to yesterday.

  I hadn’t missed him when we’d arrived, and I’ve been keeping an eye on him as he parades through the crowd like some king.

  “Caroline, I’ve been trying to get to you all night.” He ogles her silky smooth back, afforded by the low cut of the dress, and I wish I could dig his eyes out. This man’s sense of entitlement is galling.

  She turns to face him, leaning into me for support, and her mass of brown hair spills onto my shoulder. My heart is going to explode from the feel of her clinging to me. How many times have I dreamed of this very thing?

  “Victor.” Now rigid in tone and posture, she presses her back into my front.

  Finally relenting, my hand glides around her middle, resting on her stomach in plain view of Walsh. Yeah, it’s a caveman move, more to stake my claim in front of this creep than feed my desire.

  “You’re beautiful as ever.” His gaze is lecherous. “I’ve come to collect.”

  Hard, teeth-gritting anger invades my body as I recall their conversation at the hospital yesterday. There’s no way in hell he’s getting a dance.

  Caro

  The tingling buzz from the champagne quickly fizzles at Victor Walsh’s arrival. Not even ten seconds ago, I was begging Kit to kiss me. I want him, another chance, whether I deserve it or not. And it felt like I was getting somewhere, and now I have to play nice to this pretentious man.

  “I think you have it all wrong. This party is for philanthropic individuals like yourself to donate to the Home.” The heat of Kit at my back is comforting, fueling me with confidence. “So, I’d say I should be collecting.”

  Victor lets out a short burst of laughter but he fails to hide the strain pulling at the corners of his eyes. Something is off about this man. I first felt it at the hospital and now, even more so. He wants something but he won’t say what.

  “Why yes, you are correct and I’ve made my donation. Just ask Nick.” He hooks his finger over his shoulder in the direction of where my brother has been most of the night.

  “Thank you.” I beam and place my hand over Kit’s large one
, flattened on my stomach. His touch does all kinds of things to me, and I can’t shake my hyperawareness of him. A clean, earthy scent wraps around me and his hard, chiseled muscles bring only comfort and security. I want to stay here all night, in his arms.

  Victor flits his dark beady eyes to where Kit and I are connected. I should move away, be embarrassed at this public display of affection. After all, I am co-owner of Léa’s Home and this is a business event, but I can’t seem to bring myself to care.

  “So now that you’ve collected, I’d say it’s my turn. May I please have this dance?” His outstretched hand causes my stomach to flip and all the champagne I drank or the bubbles or both bring on a wave of nausea. I did agree to a dance but it’s the last thing I want.

  “Um.” I hesitate and Kit tightens his grip on me.

  “I’d prefer it if you didn’t.” His request is deep, a low rumble aimed at Walsh even if he’s talking to me.

  “Oh.” I peer up at him but his gaze is pinned to Victor. “Okay. Sorry, I’m going to have to pass up your offer. But thank you.”

  The older man’s eyes widen, likely shocked that I dare turn him down, but they quickly narrow into thin slits trained on the man at my back. The hairs on the back of my neck stand at the now familiar feeling of something more sinister simmering under the surface.

  “I don’t think we’ve been introduced. Didn’t I see you with Caroline at the hospital?”

  Kit remains silent and I sneak a sideways glance at him, not wanting to take my eyes off Victor. My closest friend is stoic, staring at the older man with his mouth set in a thin line, a blank look in his eyes.

  “Ah, Victor, this is Kit.” That’s all I allow myself to say. The man has no need to know anything about Kit, and I’m fairly certain Kit doesn’t even want him to have his first name.

  “Good evening, Kit.” The typically overly courteous man doesn’t extend his hand for a shake. “I’d usually say it’s nice to meet you, but it seems you have the wrong impression of me.” He rests his short stubby fingers into the center of his chest as if offended. “I was merely asking for a dance, not to steal her away.”

  “Yeah, well, we’re leaving.” Kit flexes his jaw while clenching his teeth and I’m more than happy to leave.

  Done with Kit, Victor releases a derisive snort and pins me with his sharp gaze. “Caroline, where’s Elliot?”

  My heartbeat spikes. Victor and Elliot don’t run in the same circles, and while they work at the same hospital, Elliot has nothing to do with the Home, and Victor doesn’t know anything about my personal life. Or at least, he shouldn’t.

  “I don’t know. Why do you ask?” I study his features, looking for any evidence of what he’s really after, and except for the twitch to his lips at my response, his face is blank.

  “He’s missed his shifts at the hospital for the past several days now and we’re worried. I thought you might know if he’s okay and where we could find him.”

  The back of my neck heats and Kit’s grip is almost painful. “No. I don’t know where he is. Why would I?”

  “Aren’t you together?” Again, the question is for me but Victor’s gaze is glued to Kit.

  “No, we aren’t.” I bristle, hoping I didn’t sound as defensive as I feel. “And I haven’t seen Elliot in months.” I shift to Kit’s side, taking his hand. “Is Alma here with you?”

  Alma is his wife and complete opposite. She’s the most down-to-earth woman, who has not only shown her support for the Home with her money, but also her time. I could talk to her all day.

  “Yes. Alma is here.” Victor flushes, almost chastised by the question, and that is my intention.

  “Please say hello to her for me, and I’m sure she’d love to dance with you. It was nice seeing you and thank you for your donation. Good night, Victor.”

  “You too.” He doesn’t wait, leaving immediately.

  I lead us across the room toward Nick and Logan to say our goodbyes, eager to have time alone with Kit. My brother’s relieved I’m leaving and that the night is without incident.

  “You two go.” He pats Kit on the back while wearing a strange expression, eyes boring into his best friend.

  Logan is less subtle, an enormous smile breaking free as he waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Yes, you two go home and go screw until you can’t see straight.”

  “Logan.” Kit’s tone is hard as stone.

  “Fuck off.” Nick hits the back of his head.

  I press my lips together, holding in my laughter as red heat climbs into my face.

  On the way out of the castle, I swipe one more glass of champagne from a passing server, enjoying the toasty bubbles sliding down my throat despite Kit’s scowl. The conversation with Victor Walsh was near sobering and I want the warm fuzzy feeling I had before.

  As we wait for the valet to bring the car, I spot Victor standing at the far end of the entrance with his back to us. He’s talking to a man in a uniform in front of a luxury SUV.

  Once we’re in the car on the way to his house, Kit asks, “Why’s Victor asking about Elliot?”

  “Well, he is the head of the hospital, so ultimately Elliot’s boss. But I’m surprised he’d even know Elliot missed his shifts. Normally, something like that would be handled by HR.”

  “It does sound strange, and even more so that he thought you and Elliot still had a thing.”

  “Yes, it is weird because I wasn’t aware he even knew we dated. His question threw me. I was going to tell him you were my boyfriend when I introduced you.”

  I realize what I’ve just said when he takes the turn sharply, exhaling a harsh breath. Okay, maybe I’m fooling myself to think we might have a chance, given his reaction to even saying we’re together.

  “Everything about him felt wrong.” Kit skips over my comment.

  I compel myself to stay focused on the conversation and not how hot he looks in a tux. “I know. It felt like there was more to the conversation but I couldn’t put my finger on it.”

  “Yeah, me too. The way he looked at you, the words he chose, it felt too personal and with purpose.” Kit takes the next turn onto the highway. “I’ll ask Nick to look into him.”

  I snort. “He isn’t going to like that.”

  “Why?”

  “Victor is a big donor, and Nick is counting on him to put in a good word for us with the provincial government.” Something ugly and sludge-like creeps up my throat and makes me want to vomit.

  The Home is one small way Nick and I pay tribute to our father and sister by helping others like us, who struggle financially to care for their loved ones with brain injuries.

  While the Home is a private facility, we offer subsidizing with the help of private funding and donations, and we’re currently in talks with the government to expand our offering. This is where Victor and others like him come in.

  His support is crucial, or more specifically his opposition could end our chances at funding and expanding.

  Kit grunts and I can’t bring myself to continue talking about Victor. All I want to think about is Kit and how to best bring up the possibility of more. If not now…someday and hopefully soon.

  Once back at the loft, Kit deposits the keys and lumbers to the kitchen. “You want some water? Aspirin?”

  I chuckle, slipping off my heels. “I’m fine. I could use some water but no to the aspirin. Thanks.”

  While he pours water, I pull the pins from my hair, running my fingers across my scalp to loosen my waves. He rounds the counter, eyes heavy-lidded and smoldering as they roam my body from head to toe. Thoughts of how close we were earlier tonight, how much I wanted him to kiss me, bring my insides to a boil.

  Given the way he’s looking at me now, perhaps he wasn’t immune to our closeness back at the castle? When we were pressed against each other, surrounded by people. He felt it too. My body grows hot and heavy with need. He may have denied me a kiss, but he wants me as much as I want him.

  Heat flares low in my core, flicking
between my legs, and for the life of me, I can’t think of one single reason why we shouldn’t give in to our desires.

  Water in hand, he stops short of giving it to me, bending to put the glass on the table in front of me. The distance is a cold rush of air between us and I shiver, suddenly empty.

  He takes a few more steps back and starts to remove his jacket. I meant it when I said he looked good. Damn, good isn’t even enough of a word to truly describe what he makes me feel.

  The longer I stare at him in his tux, the more I want to run my hands over his chest once again, feel every ripple and ridge of his muscles. Despite feeling loose-limbed and warm thanks to the bubbly, I wrap my arms around myself, trying to keep these burgeoning feelings locked down.

  Everything inside me wishes to have him, show him just how much I want him. Just how wrong I was all those years ago. It doesn’t help when he stares at me the way he always does, as if I’m the only thing he’s ever wanted.

  Even with our distance, he’s looking at me that very way, right now. I love it, and yet I’m at a loss, not knowing what to do with his adoration. I don’t deserve it.

  I’ve been blessed with people who love me like I’m their world. Léa and Nick were more than a sister and brother to me. They were like parents and friends. Our parents left us. My father died and my mother…my mother just left us.

  My life could have been horrific, nothing like what it is today. I could have had to sell my body like my sister did to put food on the table or run in circles with vicious criminals like Nick did.

  They both did what they had to in order to give me everything—a home, food, university, all of it. And now, I look at Kit and he’s no different than my siblings. He had no choice.

  Guilt and humiliation surge in my stomach, reminding me of all the foolish things I did or didn’t do.

  He did what he had to do to live, to survive. And what did I do? I blamed him for those tough and unimaginable choices. I left him because of those choices, because he wanted to live.