He is.
And I am too.
It’s just… perfect.
Dean laughs. “Kinky Kaylee. You’re using ‘cunt’ aren’t you?”
“Well.” I wink at Brendon. “It’s a powerful word.”
Chapter Forty
Kaylee
Brendon’s hands go to my hips. Then his body is against mine and he’s pinning me to the passenger side door.
“Fuck, Kay.” His voice is breathy, heavy. “You wear that to torture me?”
I nod.
“I’m gonna have to punish you for that.”
This time, I only barely manage to nod.
He rocks his hips against mine as he kisses me. It’s hard. Deep. Hungry.
“Brendon. We shouldn’t. Em…” I can’t finish my sentence. I’m too busy sliding my hands into his hair and pressing my lips to his.
He tastes so good.
Like he’s mine.
I never get enough of it.
He traces the hem of my skirt. Then his hands are sliding beneath it. And he’s pressing his palm against me, over my panties.
His tongue slides around mine.
His hand knots in my hair.
He pulls back with a heavy sigh.
My glasses are titled. My lipstick is smeared all over his face.
“Here.” I wipe his lips with my thumb. But the feel of those soft lips against the pad of my digit only makes me more desperate to have him. “Is it too late to ditch this concert?”
He nods.
“To—” I nod to the backseat.
“We’d get arrested even if it weren’t.”
“Worth it.”
He nods. “For me, yeah. But for you—” He steps backward.
My body cries for his. My heart is singing from the whole him protecting me from my raging libido thing. But my body is having none of it.
“Come on.” He motions to the door. “Get in. Let’s pick up Em.”
“Okay.” I slide into my seat. Click my seatbelt. Fix my smeared makeup in the mirror.
We’re quiet as he turns the car on and pulls onto the street. We don’t have to say anything. That I want to fuck you tension is hanging heavy in the air. It’s all I can think.
Brendon pulls into the parking garage and stops by the elevators.
Emma bounces to the car. She’s wearing skinny jeans and a ripped up, cropped shirt adorned with the logo of her second favorite band. Darkest Days. Its red logo matches her hair. And her lipstick.
She slides into the backseat. “Hey.”
“Hey.” That I need to fuck you tone seeps into my voice.
Emma shoots me a what’s up with you look.
I shrug.
“Earth to Brendon?” She clicks her seatbelt. When he doesn’t respond, she presses on. “You two get into a fight or something?”
Or something, yeah. “You know your brother and his music taste.”
“Yeah.” She looks to him. Examines him the way she examined me. “You can drop us at the show if you prefer that.”
He doesn’t say anything.
“Brendon? Hello.” Emma taps him on the shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” His voice still has that breathy edge. He shakes it off. “Why are you wearing another band’s shirt?”
“Duh. Everyone knows it’s lame to wear the same band’s t-shirt to a concert,” she says.
“Do they?” His voice is almost back to normal.
“Everyone cool,” I say. “That must not include you.”
He chuckles. It’s too rich. Too hearty. Too full of affection.
Emma shakes her head. “I swear, if I didn’t know better…” I’d swear you’re fucking.
Something flares in her eyes.
Like she’s considering the possibility of us fucking.
Like it’s the only reasonable explanation for our behavior the last month and change.
Damn, this is one packed club.
There must be two thousand people crammed into a space that usually holds far less. Everything is black—the floor, the walls, the stage, the attire of most of the patrons.
The opening band is playing. I recognize the song from the radio, but I can’t put a name to it.
The lead singer has his hand around the mic. He’s pouring his heart into his performance. And he’s cute. He has the rocker hottie thing going in spades. Skinny jeans. Black t-shirt. Leather jacket. Spikey hair. Facial piercings.
“Think he’s got the tongue too?” Emma asks.
“What is that like?” I ask.
“Are you calling me a slut, babe? Because I take that as a compliment.” She laughs.
“You wish you were a slut,” I say.
“You know I’m right here,” Brendon chimes in.
She shrugs. “And a shining example of slut.” She turns to her brother with a coy smile. “I’ll never live up to your standards.”
He rolls his eyes.
“You had a long dry streak there.” She folds her arms over her chest. “Who finally broke it?”
Brendon arches a brow. What are you talking about?
“There were condom wrappers in your bathroom trash can.” She shrugs like this is a normal thing to notice.
“You have your own bathroom,” he says.
“Kay was using it.”
“There’s one downstairs.”
“She was using the shower.” Emma’s eyes narrow as she stares at her brother. “It’s not like I opened your drawers or something. They were right there in the open. That’s um… in plain sight. It’s legal.”
“You been watching Law and Order?” he asks.