Risking It All (20 page)

“So, if you were here with Brooks.”

His voice wasn’t accusing or harsh, but she heard the hurt beneath the words, and as easily as it would be to agree with him and put their relationship back to where it was only the day before, she couldn’t lie to him.

“No, not even with Brooks. Not anymore.”

Memphis stilled.

“Meaning?”

“I . . .” Kennedy shook her head and gave a helpless shrug. “I don’t know.”

“Is it because of—”

“No. Come on, Memphis, you know we had problems before I came on this trip with you.” Kennedy dropped her arms to her sides and gave him a tired smile. “I had fun today, but I’m ready to hit the sheets,” she said, hoping he’d drop the subject. The last thing she wanted was to talk about Brooks with him.

Memphis’s lips slowly curved into a pantie-dropping smile.

“Is that an invitation?”

“Yes.” Kennedy grinned. “You are more than welcome to share the bed with me as long as you stay on your side.”

Memphis chuckled.

“It’s a tempting offer, but I think I’ll just crash on the couch again.”

“Memphis. Considering what happened I don’t think that’s really necessary anymore.”

“Yeah, it is.” He pressed his lips together and nodded toward the bedroom. “I’ll just borrow the bathroom for a minute and then get out of your way.”

“Memphis.” Kennedy reached to stop him as he walked past her, but he was too quick and she missed his arm.

She stood there, staring after him as he disappeared into the bedroom, and the message couldn’t be clearer if he had screamed it at her.

Screwing her was one thing, but sleeping with her was another. And she shouldn’t be foolish enough to think what happened between them meant more than it did.

It meant nothing.

Chapter 11

Kennedy yawned and stumbled her way to the front door. Her night had been restless, and Memphis had unintentionally woken her early with the shower. She needed coffee and lots of it, but before she could get her hands on any, someone banged on the door.

    Kennedy dragged her hand through her hair, hoping she didn’t have a terrible case of bed hair, and opened the door.

Blondie from the front desk stood on the other side, a large, flat, rectangular box leaning against her side. Kennedy scratched her head, trying to remember the woman’s name.

“Good morning.” Blondie was way too chipper so early in the morning.

“Uh, morning.”

“This was delivered for you this morning.” Blondie flashed a megawatt grin and picked up the package from the ground. She walked in without invitation and placed the mystery gift on the island.

“For me?” Kennedy said. “Are you sure it’s not for Memphis?”

“Positive.” Blondie nodded and flashed another blinding smile at her as she headed to the door. “Mr. Bell’s assistant was very clear it was for you.”

“Mr. Bell?” Kennedy’s tired eyes sprang to life as she looked at the box on the island. “As in Alec Bell?”

“Of course! He owns a cozy little restaurant and gallery in town. He’s an artist himself, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know that.”

Blondie—or Piper, as she finally remembered—told her to have a good day and quickly left.

Kennedy swiped the little white envelope off the box and pulled out the note.

Kennedy—

This will look much better in your home than it does sitting on a wall waiting to be owned.

I’ve never been to Vancouver; perhaps a trip is in order.

And since I will be in need of a tour guide I’ll have a reason to look you up.

All my best,

Alec Bell

Kennedy giggled, dashed around the other side of the island to grab a sharp knife out of the kitchen, and carefully sliced through the wrapping tape. Inside, beneath layers of Bubble Wrap, she found the painting she had been admiring in the gallery. And in the corner, scrawled in remarkable penmanship, was the artist’s name: Alec Bell.

She knew it was too much—she should send it back immediately. But she also knew, being an artist herself, he would take that as an insult.

“Hey, are you going to get dressed or go to breakfast wearing Scooby Doo?” Memphis asked, coming up behind her. “What’s that?”

“It’s a painting,” Kennedy said, and stepped back so he could see. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Memphis came closer; the scent of soap lingered on his skin, potent enough for her to smell through his clothes. His hair was still damp and his skin was still dewy from his shower.

Kennedy’s body came alive at the sight and smell of him; the painting was quickly forgotten. She had to concentrate on her breathing so she didn’t start panting. Her nipples tightened, hardening against her thin cotton pajama shirt, plainly visible if he looked down. Her heartbeat steadily increased as her stomach flipped and her panties grew damp.

“Nice,” Memphis said. “Where’d it come from?”

“Uh . . .” Kennedy tore her eyes away from her perusal and looked at the painting. “From a gallery in town. The one I went to the other day.”

Memphis’s brow furrowed.

“The night I had to pick you up because you were drunk with that guy?”

“I wasn’t drunk!” Kennedy said. “And that guy just happens to be the artist.”

“He sent you a painting? Alec? The guy from the other night sent you a painting?” Memphis’s jaw clenched. “No. He
gave
you one of
his
paintings. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Um . . .” Kennedy instinctively clutched the note in her hand tighter, wishing she could make it disappear in her palm.

The noise of the paper crinkling caught Memphis’s attention, and his eyes snapped to her hand.

“Is that a note? From him?”

“It came with the painting.” Kennedy hid her hand behind her back.

“From him?”

The whole situation suddenly struck her as funny, and Kennedy burst out laughing.

“Oh, Memphis,” she gasped through her giggles, “I’ve never seen you act possessive before. It’s like you’re a jealous boyfriend.”

Memphis took a step toward her, and she backed up, still laughing. His grin was sinister and instantly turned her on. His eyes darkened like they had the other morning and she almost stumbled over her feet at the sight. 

“You think it’s funny that you make me feel this way, Kennedy?” he asked, his voice low and husky as he advanced on her.

Kennedy backed around the island, a silly smile on her face from the cat and mouse game they were about to play.

“Maybe,” she said. “How do I make you feel, Adams?”

“As if I’m going out of my fucking mind.” He took another step forward.

“Is that a good thing?” She took another step back.

“Do you like that I suddenly feel possessive of you?”

Kennedy shrugged coyly instead of answering.

“What does the note say?”

Kennedy grinned as she rounded the counter at the same time he did. They stood face to face, only the island between them.

“That he wants to meet with me and ravish my body,” she answered.

She knew instantly it was the wrong thing to say. His jaw clenched tighter and his hold on the countertop tightened, causing his fingers to turn white.

“Give me the note, Kennedy.”

“No.”

Her heart hammered in her chest as his eyes met hers.

“Give. Me. The note.”

Kennedy leaned over the island until her face was inches from his. He remained perfectly still, even when she moved in close enough that her lips almost touched his. She licked her lips, causing the tip of her tongue to brush against his mouth. His nostrils flared at the moist touch and he inhaled sharply.

“No,” she whispered.

He was fast, but Kennedy was faster. Just as Memphis reached to grab her, she danced away and bolted for the sitting room, laughing at his failed attempt to catch her. She stopped between the couch and the coffee table and grinned at him. Slowly he stalked toward the couch, a dark smile on his face.

“Let me read the note, Kennedy.”

“You mean this note?” Kennedy held up the crumpled piece of paper.

“Don’t play with me, woman.”

“Oh, I seem to remember you like being played with.”

Kennedy squealed as Memphis launched himself over the couch. Her heart leapt in her chest as she turned to take off once more, but Memphis caught the bottom of the pajama leg, and she tripped, falling into the recliner. She flipped over onto her back, kicking at his hand as laughter shook her body, making it hard to free herself from his grasp.

Memphis’s hand snaked around her ankle, and he gave a gentle tug, pulling her off the chair and to the floor.

“Memphis!” Kennedy laughed as she twisted her body once more to try and get away.

He crawled on top of her and turned her over again so she was lying on her back and he was smirking down at her. He moved his legs over her hips, holding her in place as he grabbed her wrists and moved her arms above her head, pinning them down.

Somewhere between Kennedy laughing and bucking to get free the game changed. Staring up at him, she wanted anything but to get away from him. With her arms pinned above her head, her shirt rode up baring her stomach and her breasts strained against the material.

Memphis’s eyes traveled over her body, pausing at her bare midriff, and slowly back up to her face. Her breathing became shallow as his eyes roamed over her body, and she squirmed beneath him.

Memphis leaned down and murmured in her ear, “Looks like I win.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” she said, barely able to catch her breath. “But if this is where the loser ends up, you’ll hear no complaints from me.”

Memphis chuckled and plucked the note from her hand, releasing her arms.

“Let’s see what this says now, shall we?”

“I already told you what it says. You don’t believe me?”

His only response was a grunt as he unfolded the paper and quickly scanned it. Kennedy bit her lip, anxiously waiting for his reaction. When all he did was drop the note and wrap his big hands around her wrists again, she was slightly surprised and incredibly turned on.

“Are you going to play his tour guide, Kennedy?” He rubbed his thumbs over her palms.

“I’m not sure. I guess it depends on when he visits and if it fits into my busy schedule,” she answered with as much sass as she could.

His stroking stopped, and his eyes bore into hers.

“Are you playing with me?” 

She grinned. “Not yet.”

Memphis pinned her arms above her head again and leaned over her. He brushed his nose against her ear and Kennedy turned her head, inviting him to explore her skin better.

“You never answered my question.” He breathed into her ear, sending shivers up her spine.

“What question?” She closed her eyes, arching her neck to feel more of his mouth.

“If you like me being possessive of you.”

“Oh.”

He moved his lips to her earlobe and sucked it into his mouth. He flicked the flesh with his tongue before sharply nipping at it. Kennedy moaned at the sting of his teeth before he kissed over her jaw, pausing at the corner of her mouth.

“I think it turns you on,” Memphis whispered against her lips. “I think if I were to slide my hand into your pants right now, I’d find you very wet, Kennedy.”

He released one of her wrists and slowly dragged his right hand down her arm. Goose bumps rose on her skin as he skimmed his fingers lower, over her ribs and down to her exposed stomach. He tenderly traced his fingertips across her belly and dipped just the tip of his finger inside the waistband of her pants, teasing her with featherlight touches.

“Am I right?”

Kennedy knew she couldn’t answer him even if she wanted to. All coherent thoughts vanished as his fingers skimmed back and forth over her skin. She could no longer think, only feel. And everything she felt at that moment was on fire.

She craved his kiss, and her lips tingled from his close proximity. Her breasts heaved with every breath and her aroused nipples actually hurt, screaming for their own attention. Her stomach quivered with every touch of his hand, knotting on the inside with anticipation. If her legs were free she was sure they would tremble as well.

And he was right. If he slid his hand just a little lower between her legs he would find her hot and wet. She ached, empty and half-crazed with need to have him fill her. To claim her as his again without holding back or worrying about what they were doing.

“Kennedy?”

She shook her head, trying to lift the heavy fog of lust that had settled over her. Opening her eyes, her gaze fell on his hand that pleasantly tortured her and slowly drifted up to meet his stare.

He watched her; whether he was waiting for her to answer or to tell him to stop, she wasn’t sure. Neither one blinked as their gazes held rock steady. Their tandem breathing and matching pounding hearts were the only sounds in the room, and she feared at any second he would break free of their trance and pull away.

Kennedy lowered her arm to her stomach until her hand rested on his. Memphis never looked away from her face, but his body tensed, and he pressed his lips together so tightly they lost their color as he waited for her to make a move.

She linked their fingers together and gradually slid their hands below the waistband of her pajama bottoms. She wore no underwear, and Memphis’s sharp intake of breath told her he had been expecting the barrier of her panties. Her body radiated heat as their fingers found her wet flesh together.

“Does it feel like you’re right, Memphis?” Her voice was raspy from arousal as she slid both their fingers inside her drenched center.

The sound that built in his chest was more of a growl than a moan, and he aggressively attacked her mouth, pushing his tongue past her lips and tangling it against hers. Memphis kept one arm above her head as he took control over their joined hands below. He kept their fingers together and slowly, at first, started sliding them in and out of her. But as his kiss grew more fevered, their hands became more forceful.