“How could anyone treat someone like you like that?” I whisper, and my eyes widen when I realize I’ve said it out loud. His eyes lift to mine, and he takes a tiny step closer to me. I swallow.
“This skin I’m in…” he whispers back. “Sometimes, it feels like it may as well be a gun pointed in their face. Like it’s a weapon.”
I blink wildly, and I realize I’m fighting back tears. Tears of anger, of worry, of embarrassment of so much––my lack of understanding of what was happening. My blissful ignorance.
My mind flashes back to a conversation I had with Franklin. We were in the elevator, riding up to our floor, when another woman got in with us. She pulled herself to the front corner of the elevator and clutched her purse to her tight, tucking it under her arm.
When she got off, I mentioned it to Franklin. He gave me a sad smile and shrugged. We kept talking, and I never thought about it again. Not until right now.
“I can’t even...I don’t even know…” My voice trails off as I shake my head. “I should have said something else, done something else. I just didn’t know––”
“You saw it today. And the truth is, you’ll see something like that again,” he says, coming even closer. I can smell the beer on his breath and whatever’s left of that scent that drives me wild. “But now you know a little more. And the next time, you’ll do a little more. It’s what you do with that knowledge, Kaylee. And I know you’ll do something.”
“When you guys came in, Ryder…”
Derrick doesn’t even need me to finish; he just nods.
“Ryder did the talking because it’s usually a little safer that way,” he says.
That skin will get you a lot of free passes in this world.
“You had to be so angry,” I say. He nods, a chuckle escaping his mouth.
“So angry I could hit someone—like a convenience store owner,” he says, and a chill runs through me. I’ve never seen this side of him. “But I can’t act like I want to act in situations like that. Sometimes it literally means life or death. And you never know which card you’re gonna draw.”
My eyes lift to his, tears beading in their corners. I look down at his arms, the muscles flexed through his cut-off sleeves, the veins that crawl down his hands. I reach my finger out, tracing one of them from his hand up his wrist.
“This skin…” I whisper, doing the same with my other hand on his other arm. Chills pop up behind my fingers as I drag them up his arms. “It’s so damn beautiful. How could anyone... It’s so...you are so beautiful,” I tell him, my eyes lifting back to his. When my hands reach his chest, he puts one of his on top of them, pressing them into him. With his other hand, he reaches out and cradles the back of my head, drawing me in closer. And then our lips crash together, fast and hard, like they’ve been waiting for this since the night we first laid eyes on each other.
I reach my hand up to cup the side of his cheek and wrap the other arm around his neck. The scent of him so up close makes me wild, and heat pools in my belly and down between my legs as I feel myself getting closer and closer to that line he was so sure we shouldn’t cross.
But to my pleasant surprise, his arms wrap around me, and he lifts me off the ground, setting me on the railing. His tongue slips into my mouth once, and I open my eyes for a second to make sure it’s all real. Mine moves to meet his, and my teeth tug at his bottom lip as we slowly come apart.
His eyes jump back and forth between mine, like he’s looking for an answer to something that he thinks will be there. I can see him contemplating his next move, and the waiting is enough to drive me mad. I scoot closer to him so that our centers are touching, and I can feel the heat radiating off of his body. I lock one of my legs around his, pulling us even closer, and I can feel his hardness beneath his shorts. I let my hand slide up his arm, wrapping it around his neck. And then I pull him back in for another kiss, this time not letting him go until I get my point across.
I want him. I’ve wanted him below me, on top of me, any which way, since I saw him. Knowing nothing about him, I’d never felt a physical attraction like this. But now that I know him, I know some of his past, I know some of his pain, I want him more. I’m not sure if giving myself to him can cure some of that pain, can fix some of what’s been broken, but I’d like to give it a try.
“Kaylee,” he whispers between kisses as my lips leave his and take over on his jaw, ears, neck.
“Let me,” I whisper back, taking his hand and placing it on my thigh. “Just let me tonight.”
A fire ignites behind his eyes, and I can see that he’s giving in. He wraps both hands around my thighs and pulls me onto him, lifting my ass off the railing. He kisses me again, harder this time, pushing me up against the cool glass of the door. He fiddles with the handle but can’t get it open. He pulls away for a second, and we look around.
There’s no one here.
The next house is a few hundred yards away, and you can’t even see it through the pines that grow so thick together.
We have the same idea at the exact same time.
He carries me to one of the chaise lounges, setting me down gently as ever. He stands back and pulls his shirt up over his head, and a bolt of electricity courses through my most sensitive spot. I need his hands on me. I need his hands there. I stare at him, his broad chest with that scar, the valleys of every muscle that make up the perfect man that stands in front of me. His dark-brown skin that makes me want him even more.
He reaches forward, tugging at the hem of my tank top, pulling it gently over my head. I unclasp my bra, and it slides down my arms. He pulls it off and takes me in, and I tuck my hair behind my ear subconsciously.
He leans forward, leaving one kiss on my collar bone. Then another, a little lower down. Then another, even lower, until he takes a nipple into his mouth, rolling it around on his tongue. I drop my head back, leaning back on my arms. I moan his name, and he lifts his head.
“What do you want, Kaylee?” he asks.
“You,” I tell him, my voice husky and coarse. That half-smile tugs at his lips, sending me into overdrive. I reach for his waistband and pull him closer to me, letting my hand slip down beneath them and into his boxers. I take his length in my hand, stroking him gently at first then faster as he moves closer. He drops his head back, and I lick my lips at the sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing in his thick neck.
He pushes me back gently and slips a hand down between us, into my jean shorts, then dips one finger under the lace of my thong. My panties are still a little damp from being thrown in the water earlier, but they’re also damp now for another reason. And that reason is getting dangerously close to making me lose my complete mind.
He slips another finger down, then another, and his whole hand is in my panties. Before I can articulate the sheer ecstasy I’m feeling with his hands on me, he gently presses two fingers against my clit, massaging it in slow, deep circles. Then he picks up the pace, and I drop my hand from his dick to steady myself on either side of the chair. I slide back against the cushion, lying completely flat as he uses his other hand to unbutton and unzip and give himself more access. As he tugs my shorts down, he leaves a trail of kisses up the inside of my thigh, and I involuntarily moan his name. Then he pushes my legs apart and tugs my panties to one side before slipping a finger inside of me. My back arches as he reaches the deepest parts of me, then he adds another finger while his other hand continues with the circles. I’ve never hit the brink this quick before––not even with myself. He moves faster, his tongue tracing a line from my thigh to my very core.
And then I come undone in his hand, my body arching, and stiffening, then melting into a puddle in front of him. I’m panting, my eyes closed, as I lie back against the cushion, hand on my chest. He leaves gentle kisses just above my panty line, then my stomach, then my chest. And then I realize he’s putting my panties back in place and tugging my shorts back up.
Wait.
This can’t be over.
This.
Can. Not. Be. Over.
I push myself up onto my elbows.
“What are you doing?” I ask, breathing like I just ran a marathon. He reaches down to shift and rearrange himself.
“I’m not gonna do this.”
“Wha-what? Do what? In case you didn’t notice, you already started.” I’m still panting. My hair is slicked to my face. I’m so not ready for this to be over. But he shakes his head.
“I’m not just gonna fuck you out here on this deck and then leave.”
Hearing the words “fuck you” come out of his mouth—and in the good sense—makes me want to lie back and throw my legs apart in front of him again.
“So don’t go.” A sly smile spreads across his lips.
“But what about tomorrow? The next time? What about when your dad calls and you gotta run back to run the empire?”
I sit in silence for a moment. I have no idea what to say. I just know what I feel in this moment, and that’s that I need every inch of Derrick inside of me, wrapped around my body. If he just made me come that hard with his fucking fingers, I have to know what the rest of him can do to me. And I want to know what I can do to him. I want to take that pain he was feeling and turn it into the best damn pleasure he’s ever had. I want to use my best moves, do whatever he wants until he feels whole again. But it feels like that reality is slowly fading away, so I straighten out my jeans and reach for my tank top. When I don’t say anything, he kneels down in front of me.
“I told you, girl, that when I touch you, really touch you, I’m not gonna stop until I know every inch of you is satisfied.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it. You’re sort of leaving me hangin’,” I say. He chuckles as he pulls his shirt back on over his head.
“I can’t, Kaylee. Not until you decide what it is you want to do,” he tells me. He kneels to kiss me one more time, then stands up. My lips tingle as he pulls away.
“Because you’re worried you’re in my head?”
He pauses at the back door and turns to me.
“No,” he says. “Because you’re in mine.”
18
After the sexcapade that never was last night, I got almost no sleep. I rolled around in bed all night, tossing and turning, reliving the glorious, fleeting moments of his hands on me then feeling that same inevitable disappointment when they stopped.
I woke up from the little sleep I did get as the sun was rising this morning. I’m sitting on the front porch, lacing up my shoes. Maybe a long run will get rid of this lady boner that will not go away.
I turn down Joan’s Way and pick up the pace as I find my footing on the side of the road. The sky is a dull purplish-gray color, untouched by the full force of the sun just yet. I breathe in and out, looking around at the tall trees. The lake is quiet this time of day, no boats to disrupt its serenity, no water skiers, no noise pollution. Just crystal-like water, sparkling beneath the earliest rays. The trees sway a bit in the early morning breeze, and chills ripple across my skin. There’s something cooler, fresher, about these mountain summers.
As I round a bend in the road, I think about how long I’ve been here. It’s only been about a month, but it feels so much longer. And in the same breath, I still feel like I have so much to learn. And so much to decide.
One of those is how to deal with my parents. How to confront them on the fact that they’ve lied to me for almost my entire life. How to confront her on the fact that she abandoned a child. A child that’s just as much hers as I am. How, because of them, I missed out on a grandmother who was seemingly a saint walking the earth. Who loved me despite all she missed.
Haven’s words on the boat yesterday ring in my ear.
That skin. That skin will get you a lot of free passes in this world.
I look down at my forearms as they pump next to my sides.
Is this skin the reason I got to keep my mother?
I shake my head. The thought is too devastating, too despicable to even think about. It was because of the affair. That’s it.
But as I run, suddenly, it becomes harder to breathe. I feel a lump in my throat. I feel it rising to the top, making my breaths shallow and sharp.
And then I can’t breathe at all.
I pull off to the side of the road at the crest of a big hill, bending over and putting my hands on my knees. I’m wheezing, drawing in deep breaths—or at least trying to. I hear a car ahead and notice that it’s getting closer. I scoot farther off to the side of the road, but I hear the brakes screech as the car stops in front of me.
“You good?” Haven asks, and I flick my eyes up to hers. She looks fine. She looks as effortlessly flawless as she has since I’ve known her, matter-of-factly going about her day like she wasn’t traumatized yesterday. Like there was no chance she was the victim of racial profiling. Or maybe worse.
I nod slowly, raising myself up to stand.
“Just not used to these hills yet, I guess,” I say. I walk toward the car and bend down into the open window. “What are you doing up so early?”
She shrugs.
“Didn’t sleep well last night.”
I bet.
“Where ya headed?”
“To May’s, actually. I need to grab a few things. I was gonna try to sneak in and out
without waking you, but I guess I don’t need to worry about that. You want a ride back?”
I turn back in the direction of the house. I’ve probably only run about a mile, but I’m just not feeling it today. I nod and hop in the passenger seat. We drive in silence for a few minutes before I turn to her.
“How are you, uh, feeling today? Ya know, just about...about…”
She smiles.
“About the racist prick who had his dick in a knot when he thought I stole some damn chips or something?”There’s still a smile on her face, but I’m not sure how to react. It doesn’t feel funny to me.
“Yeah, about that,” I say. She shrugs as she rounds the last bend in the road before May’s driveway. “I feel like...I feel like it’s just one more reminder that no matter how hard you try, some people are still gonna not like you before they even know you.”
She parks the car in the driveway and takes off her seatbelt.
“That was sorta how I was with you,” she admits, and I drop my eyes to my lap.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t like me either,” I say. “Especially knowing who raised me.”
“Nah.” She shakes her head. “That’s not fair. We don’t have to become the people who raise us. And you haven’t run off with millions, so maybe there’s hope for you yet.” She smiles again, and I reciprocate, swallowing nervously as she gets out of the car.
Yet.
We walk up the front porch, and I reach into my waistband for my key just as she puts hers in the door. She walks in ahead of me and makes her way up the stairs to her room. I go into the kitchen and pour myself a cup of water, scrolling through my phone. As I’m staring at the screen, a photo of my dad and me at our beach house flashes on my screen.
“Daddy” drags across the screen in big white letters, and I want to vomit. I stare down at it. I’m not ready. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know anything.
“You busy right now?” Haven asks, and I jerk my head up to look at her.
“Uhh…” I say, fumbling to hit the “decline” button before going on. “No. Free as a bird.”
“Cool. I’m gonna grab a few things and wait for you out here.”
I nod and cock my head.
“Where are we going?” She smiles.
“I’m gonna show you around a little more. I know you had the Derrick Thomas tour, but I’m sure you were drooling a little too much to really take it all in.” She chuckles to herself, and I scoff.
But after last night, I don’t even care to hide it, at least not with Haven, although I’m not sure why. I still don’t know her. But maybe it’s the way that she seems to know me. She seems to get me; she can read me.
She’s not
wrong, though. I haven’t gone a minute without thinking about him since last night, and I’m pretty sure now I never will.
The way he looked at me, that fire in his eyes, the gentle but firm way his hands wrapped around me, the expertise with which his fingers...ahem. I jog up the steps and strip down in my room, hopping in the hot shower. I’m back down in just a few minutes, and Haven’s sitting at the kitchen island, sorting through some mail. She stuffs a few of the envelopes in her bag and stands up.
“You ready?”
“Yep.”
We walk back out the front door, and she locks it behind us, and I forget for a moment that this house is technically mine, too. She’s so comfortable, so natural here.
We drive into town, and my stomach flips a little bit as we pass Big Moon Sports on our right. But she keeps driving and pulls into the little cafe that was next door to the convenience store where the incident occurred. I swallow as she puts the car in park. I look at her as she pulls the keys from the ignition.
“What?” she asks. I swallow again, my eyes darting toward the store. She looks up at it then lets out a long breath.
“I gotta keep living my life,” she says. “If I’m scared, he wins. Come on.”
I look up at the store again, my stomach swirling with a hot mix of anxiety and anger. I’m surprised at the way my body reacts, how my head is spinning with a replay of the events of yesterday. How I want to go back into that store, stand in front of Wayne, scream in his face. Stand between him and Haven. Cover her. Protect her.
The vision of Derrick’s face, the rage in his eyes, hooded by an all-knowing look of a man who was trapped where he stood.
But I wasn’t trapped. I’ve never been trapped—not in that way. Trapped by my family, maybe. By my parents. By their fortune. By the destiny they concocted before I was through grade school—best-in-the-state, private grade school, that is.
My breaths are heavy and labored, but I’m brought back down to earth when she taps on my window. I hop out and follow her into the small cafe. I’m hit with the life-saving scent of fresh-brewed coffee and some sort of cinnamon treat wafting toward me as we walk toward the front counter.
Stones Unturned (Meade Lake Series Book 2) Page 13
