Keeping Kennedy (15 page)

Drake held the small foil packet in his hand
a moment before meeting her gaze. He smiled, the gesture almost as
tremulous as her own. “I’ll just”—he gestured in the direction of
the night table—“put it over here.”

Kennedy watched as he moved to the table and
carefully placed the packet there. She was struck again by the
sensual way he moved. His tall, lean body made her ache in ways she
hadn’t known it could. Her gaze next flitted to the bed. He had
turned the cover back. The duct tape had disappeared after their
second night together. His doing, no doubt. Kennedy fidgeted
nervously with the fuzzy ends of her robe’s sash. What did she do
now? Drake started back in her direction and her pulse skittered.
He was the one with experience; surely he would take the lead.

“Would you like something to drink?” Her
throat felt suddenly too dry.

Drake’s intent gaze almost proved too much,
“No. Do you need one?”

She shook her head adamantly. “No, I-I just
thought maybe you might.”

Drake sighed. “Kennedy—”

“Food!” She grabbed his hand. “I’m starved.
Let’s eat first.”

Drake didn’t resist as Kennedy dragged him
down the stairs to the kitchen. She told herself again that she
wasn’t stalling. She simply wanted the first time, and the only
time with Drake, to be perfect. How could she do her best if she
were hungry?

The light over the kitchen sink provided
enough illumination for her to gather the makings for a late night
snack. She beamed her brightest smile at Drake. “Ham or
bologna?”

“Kennedy, we don’t have to do this,” he said
gently. He touched his fingers to her lips to quiet her when she
started to argue. Drake took her by the waist and lifted her onto
the countertop, then braced his hands on either side of her. “It’s
okay to change your mind.”

He looked so sweetly sincere. And she wanted
him so very much. How could he think she had changed her mind? She
was nervous, that was all. Her heart pounded. For the first time in
her adult life, Kennedy felt totally hopeless. “I haven’t changed
my mind. Just tell me what to do first.”

She wondered for a long moment if he was
going to respond, then he answered, “Touch me.”

She hesitated. “Where?”

He took her hand in his and he pressed it to
the part of his chest bared by his shirt. “Here.”

Kennedy closed her eyes as she smoothed her
palms over the muscled terrain of his powerful chest. He pushed her
legs apart and moved in closer, taking her breath away with his
nearness. She wanted to open her eyes, but the sensation of
touching him absorbed her full concentration.

“And here,” he murmured before he touched her
lips with his own.

Kennedy gasped when his trailed down her
throat. His mouth moved lower, into the vee created by her robe.
Restless with something she could not name, she knew only that she
needed to feel more of his skin. Tugging at the hem of his shirt,
she pulled it free of his trousers. Drake straightened just long
enough for her to jerk the shirt over his head and drop it on the
floor.

She trembled with the need rushing through
her body as her hands caressed his perfect torso. She teased one
small male nipple and he groaned savagely. She remembered how
putting her mouth there had pleased him so. She pressed her lips
there now, then licked him. His fingers tightened at her waist and
his breathing changed, became more rapid.

Drake pushed her shoulders back, and drew her
hungry mouth away from his chest. She opened her eyes in question.
The intensity in his, the fierce desire, made her heart pound
harder.

“My turn.” Her shifted her robe off her
shoulders and admired her bare breasts for several long seconds
before his mouth descended toward her.

The feel of his hot mouth on her skin was
almost more that she could bear. Instinctively she arched her back,
thrusting her breasts forward for his full attention. Heat swirled
at her center, making her achy and moist. He griped her thighs,
pressing his hips closer, but not nearly close enough.

“Drake,” she murmured. “We have to do
something now.” She wrapped her legs around his hips and pressed
into him. “Now,” she repeated.

As if knowing just what she needed, he
slipped his hand between them. One finger dipped inside her. Using
his thumb, he pleasured the tiny nub that sent the sensations to
the next level. The tightening deep in her center spiraled out of
control. Just when she thought she would scream he captured her
mouth with his own. His kiss was deep and not for the faint of
heart. His tongue delved inside, teasing, learning, urging her to
respond. Her arms went around his neck and Kennedy pulled him
closer, if that was possible. She wanted him inside her, right
now.

She had to touch him the way he was touching
her. The rhythmic pulsing of his fingers was driving her mad. Her
hands trembling, she fumbled with the fastener to his trousers. She
wanted to feel him in her hands. Her fingers fumbled awkwardly as
he continued to pleasure her with those skilled fingers, until the
sensations building inside her suddenly exploded, sending wave
after wave of tremors through her. She arched hard against his hand
until the waves eased a bit.

What she had just experienced would never be
enough.

“I need to be inside you,” he murmured
quickly.

“Hurry,” she pleaded.

He lifted her and carried her to the kitchen
table. He settled her onto the edge and kissed her lips before
releasing her long enough to wrench open his trousers. His eyes
intent on hers, he covered her mouth in a hungry kiss as he leaned
her down onto the smooth oak top. She worried briefly that her
parents might walk in, but then he stroked her again and all
rational thought ceased.

Her robe fell open on either side of her,
exposing her fully to him. His hand worked that wonderful magic
again as first then one then another long finger slid inside her,
stretching and stroking. Kennedy trembled in anticipation, but her
hips matched his rhythm of their own accord as he thrust ever so
gently with his fingers. Just when she thought she would fall apart
in his arms once more with nothing more than the touch of his hand,
he stopped.

Their ragged breathing the only sound in the
room, Kennedy’s eyes flew open. Drake drew back slightly, he looked
devastated.

“The condom,” he said in a shaky voice. “It’s
upstairs.”

The image of Drake leaving her, running up
the stairs to get the condom suddenly flashed before her eyes. Her
body was wet and throbbing, aching for release. Kennedy gripped his
shoulders and pulled him back down. “Don’t even think about it,”
she commanded breathlessly.

He smiled, then brushed a kiss across those
tempting lips. His body hummed with desire.

“What are you waiting for?”

He guided himself between her legs, pressing
into her, so very slowly. She writhed, unknowingly shaking his
ability to hold back long enough for her to climax first. Then
Kennedy stilled. Her breath caught in a small, startled gasp, then
let go in a rush.

Holding back took every ounce of willpower he
could marshal, but he wouldn’t risk hurting her any more than
necessary. Her legs tightened around his waist, a silent plea for
more. He filled her. She was so exquisitely tight that he thought
he might not survive this one full thrust. He closed his eyes and
surrendered to the incredible sensual bliss of being inside
Kennedy. He pressed harder, making their joining complete.

She was his. Completely.

His pressed his forehead against hers and
willed his body to slow its spiral toward the ultimate release. The
pleasure of being inside her exploded in his chest, sent a new kind
of heat rushing through his veins. Nothing or no one had ever made
him feel this way before.

Her lips tempting his, she lifted her bottom
from the table, urging him to begin. Her fingers dug into his skin.
She whimpered her need, and Drake could wait no longer. Her pulled
back and thrust fully into her again and again, his movements
becoming harder, faster each time…until she climaxed, crying his
name.

He gasped with his own powerful release, and
slowed. Then, resting his forearms on the table on either side of
her to support his body, he kissed the tip of her nose and she
smiled. “That was amazing,” he murmured.

“You’re amazing,” Kennedy answered dreamily.
“I can feel you still pulsing inside me. It makes me want you
again.”

He chuckled softly at her honesty. “How about
we try it upstairs in the bed this time?”

Kennedy’s eyes rounded as if she’d only just
realized where they were.

“I told you not to knock it until you’d tried
it,” he teased.

~*~

The smell of coffee brewing did little to
perk up Kennedy the next morning. She leaned against the kitchen
counter and studied the borrowed engagement ring on her finger. She
and Drake had made love three times last night. She had sneaked out
of the bed this morning, leaving him asleep. How could she face him
and risk his seeing the truth on her face?

She was in love with him.

The feelings had been there for days now, but
Kennedy hadn’t been sure of what it exactly meant. Not until last
night.

But she couldn’t be in love with him. He was
Drake. She and Drake were friends. Had last night elevated their
relationship all the way to friends with benefits? This whole week
had been make-believe. A spin. Tears welled in her eyes and Kennedy
wanted to cry. How could she have let it happen?

“Hey, sweetpea.” Brenda draped her arms
around her daughter. “I really like your ring. Did you two pick it
out together?”

Kennedy stared into her mother’s questioning
gaze and the urge to cry overwhelmed her all over again. God, how
could she have been such an idiot?

“Mom, there’s something I have to tell you,”
she began, emotion almost choking her.

“Yes, sir,” her father boomed as he and Drake
entered the kitchen. “Tonight’s game will be a hell of a match.
Martin and a couple of the guys are coming over. If you and
sweetpea don’t have plans, maybe you can join us. We’d love you two
to spend your last night with us.”

“Sounds good,” Drake smiled affably until he
shifted his attention to Kennedy and something in his eyes changed,
shadowed with remembered desire.

“Morning,” he said huskily.

“Good morning.” Kennedy essayed a pathetic
attempt at a smile.

“Now, what were you going to say,
sweetpea?”

Kennedy’s gaze flew to her mother. “Oh, it’s
nothing.” She shook her head and waved her hand in dismissal. “I
can’t even remember what it was now.”

Her father shot her a knowing look. “Well, it
looks as if love is in the air. Your Uncle Martin called this
morning before sunrise and announced that he and Celia were leaving
for Vegas tomorrow afternoon.” Chuck poured himself a cup of
coffee.

Brenda frowned. “Celia doesn’t strike me as
the Elvis chapel type.”

Chuck waggled his eyebrows. “I don’t know. It
might be kind of groovy to be married by the King.”

Kennedy tuned out the rest of the
conversation. Love was in the air all right. It was just too bad
she had fallen in love with the kind of man who wasn’t interested
in commitment. He loved his freedom too much.

Besides, Drake had lots of women ready to
fall at his feet. What on earth would he need with her?

~*~

Sunday morning Drake watched as Kennedy said
her goodbyes to her father and mother. Both had shed their hippie
garb, and looked like the conservative, small-town folks Kennedy
had first described to him. He gave his head a slight shake as he
realized just how much he was going to miss these people, and the
town. Sometime during the past seven days he had come to think of
this place as home. In all the years he had lived in D.C., his
apartment had never actually felt like home. But somehow this place
did.

Or maybe it was Kennedy.

He refused to consider that he was losing
her. He almost laughed out loud. Losing her. Hell, she’d never
belonged to him. The whole week had been nothing but an
illusion.

“Drake.” Chuck Malone embraced him in a bear
hug. The older man drew back and smiled. “I want you two to come
back and see us soon. We expect to be the first to know when the
date is set.”

Drake only nodded. He couldn’t bring himself
to lie to the man again. Not now.

Brenda Malone was the next to throw her arms
around him. “You take care of our girl, Douglas,” she whispered, a
tear in her voice.

“I’ll do my best,” he managed. He could at
least do that. He and Kennedy had looked out for each other for
three years. There was no reason they couldn’t continue to do so.
That is, if she would let him.

Kennedy dropped into the seat behind the
steering wheel and popped on her sunglasses. “I’ll call!” she
promised as she started the engine.

Drake settled in on the passenger side and
clicked his belt into place. Things would probably return to just
the way they were when he and Kennedy got back to D.C.

Kennedy jammed the gearshift into reverse and
whipped out into the street. Drake braced his hand against the
dash. That is, if he made it back to D.C.

Chapter Ten

“Just put them here,” Kennedy insisted once
they reached her apartment door. Drake dropped her bag on the
floor. His own duffel was still slung over one broad shoulder.
Kennedy tried not to notice that about him. Or his beard-shadowed
face. Things were supposed to return to normal once they were back
in D.C.

They were back home now.
Home.
Somehow
the word sounded empty when she considered her beige, nondescript
door. The emptiness that lay beyond it made her feel suddenly too
cold.