The Commitment (The Unrestrained #2) (10 page)

He smothered my cries of pleasure with his kiss.

CHAPTER SEVEN

After dinner with my dad and Elaine, I left Drake and took my father's limo to the café near Harlem General where Dawn was waiting, my stomach filled with butterflies, my throat choked. Drake wanted to drive me there on his way to an impromptu jam session with his band, which he arranged when he knew I'd be busy, but if Dawn saw him, it would ruin the attempt to make peace.

The limo pulled up and when I saw Dawn sitting alone at a table in the window, a cup of coffee in her hand, a rush of regret flooded through me. I knew she'd never understand, but maybe she could accept. Maybe she could ignore and we could focus on other things – Africa, her job, and other things we had in common.

I
hoped
.

I got out of the limo and entered the café, stopping at the counter to get a decaf and joined her.

"Kate," she said. "You look under the weather."

I did, bags under my eyes from bad sleep. "It's the Malarone. It makes me feel a bit sick, like I'm getting the flu. I'm almost ODing on Tylenol."

She shook her head. "You hated Africa, yet you're going back there with him? What else is he making you do that you hate, Kate?"

I sighed. Maybe Drake was right. She might never be able to understand.

"Dawn, I don't
want
to hate Africa. I want to know it, understand it, and help. I'm sick of hating it. Going there and seeing the good things instead of the bad will help me overcome my bad experience."

She glanced away as if she couldn't look at my face.

I pushed on. "Dawn, I can't stand that we're not friends anymore. We've been friends for so long. I don't want to leave and have this distance between us. Can you at least accept my relationship with Drake, even if you don't understand it?"

She turned back to me, her lips pressed thin. "I
can't
accept. But maybe I can pretend it's not real. If we don't talk about it, if you don't mention him, maybe we can still be friends. But you have to absolve me of any guilt for not warning you more effectively if he does hurt you and breaks your heart."

"He may break my heart, but he'd never purposely hurt me or cause me pain. That's not what he likes."

She shook her head. "See, we can't talk about it. I can't believe that. He's got a vested interest in lying to you."

"He's telling the truth. If he wanted someone into pain, he'd find someone very easily. Even Lara—"

"Lara's his
friend
. She's biased."

I exhaled heavily, frustration filling me. "You're
my
friend."

"Yes," she said. "I'm biased in your favor. They aren't."

"OK. Let's pretend Drake doesn't exist. I can't stand leaving and having us not be friends."

She nodded finally, but from the way she sat, her body tense, I suspected it was a losing cause. "I'll try," she said. "But absolve me now, in case."

I forced a smile. "Absolve you?"

"Yes," she said, her expression dark. "If things go sour, I don't want you mad at me for not trying harder."

"All right, I
absolve
you," I said and waved my hand, pretending to bless her. "I won't blame you for anything. You can say you told me so and feel smugly superior."

"I don't
want
to be right, but I'm afraid I am. At least
meet
with Sunita and hear her side of the story. I've talked to her. I've seen her pictures. I saw the video. Drake
liked
what he was doing. He used a riding crop on her. He
liked
it, Kate. That was clear enough."

My blood felt like ice as I imagined Drake hitting a bound Sunita with a riding crop and enjoying it.

"Drake already told me about Sunita," I said, swallowing my doubt. "He
didn't
like it. He didn’t know until he tried it, but he didn’t like it."

She shook her head. "Lie to yourself, then. It's obvious you can't accept the truth."

This was going nowhere really quickly and I didn’t want to end it like that.

"
Stop
." I held my hand up. "Let's start fresh. No more talk about Drake, Sunita or my relationship with him. Just about everything else."

"I'll probably regret this, but OK." She nodded and extended her hand across the table. "Deal."

We shook and picked up our drinks, toasting each other to seal the bargain, but I had my doubts it would work.

"So," she said after wiping her mouth with a napkin. "You're taking time off from Grad school, I take it? How's that going to affect your scholarship?"

"I have some money in the bank so when I come back, I can use that to finish if they pull my scholarship. But Columbia has given me a leave of absence, so it should be good."

"It would be sad to lose your scholarship…"

"I don’t need the money, Dawn. Someone else who actually needs it could use it."

She shook her head. "You always said you'd never take your father's money if you could support yourself."

"Think of it," I said, frowning. "There are actually people out there who need the financial support. I don't. Why should the daughter of a rich man get a scholarship and not have to pay when I can?"

"It's the principle of the thing. Which I thought was what you argued to your father back in the day…"

"I was being stubborn. I was trying to distance myself from him and his money. I was being idealistic."

"What happened to that idealism in so short a time?" She exhaled loudly and I knew what that meant. She was blaming Drake for this.

"Dawn, I was wrong about my dad. I realize that now. What I thought was him controlling me was really me trying to please him and his approval of my decisions was because he thought it would please me. I know that I can do what I want and he'll approve, no matter what. I could even become a Commie and he'd still love me."

She shrugged and took another sip of her coffee. "Whatever you say. All I see is someone who's completely compromised all her ideals because of a man."

I closed my eyes. This
wasn’t
going to work. I could sit there and try to convince her but frankly, I was getting tired of her attitude. I finished my coffee and put the mug down on the table, a bit too roughly. Then, I stood up and pulled on my coat.

"What are you doing?" Her eyes were wide.

"I can't imagine someone as morally upstanding as you could tolerate being friends with someone with such compromised morals."

"Kate, I didn't
mean
that."

"Yes, you
did
mean that. It's obvious that everything is about Drake with you, so until you're able to let it go, I really can't take this judgmental behavior. I guess I was wrong. But before I go, here's the thing," I said, anger getting the better of me. "This
is
all about Drake. He's changed my life. He's made me happy for the first time in a
long
time."

She sat frowning, not meeting my eyes.

"I finally understand my father better and it's because I saw him through Drake's eyes. My dad and I – we're on such better terms now, for the first time since I was a child. Dawn, sometimes you meet someone who understands you, and accepts you for who you are. Drake is that man for me. He really does understand me. I'm exactly what he wants. He's exactly what I need. Unless you can accept that and be happy for me, I can't handle it. I don’t want to."

She looked up as I pulled my bag onto my shoulder, her face red.

I turned to go, walking away stiffly, upset even if I had finally realized I couldn't really work it out with her. She'd have to do that on her own.

"Don't come running back to me to cry on my shoulder when he breaks your heart."

I shook my head and went out the door without looking back.

It felt good to walk out like that, but as the limo made its way down the street south from the coffee shop to Drake's apartment in Chelsea, where we agreed to meet, I had tears in my eyes. Maybe when I came back from Africa, Dawn would see that everything was fine and she would finally accept my relationship with Drake. If she didn't, it would be her loss. Still, I couldn't help but feel the loss of an old and once-dear friend.

When I got to Drake's apartment, I waited in the living room with a blanket around me, eager to see Drake when he arrived home from his jam session. He seemed really happy to see me, smiling when he came in, taking his coat off quickly and coming over to me, kissing me before he did anything else.

"I'm beat," he said, flopping down on the couch beside me. "Can we just snuggle? I don't feel like doing anything."

I snuggled close to him. "Fine with me."

"Oh," he said, pulling me closer. "What's up with Dawn? How did your meeting go?"

"Terrible," I said, frowning.

"What happened?" He ran his fingers over my cheek and waited. I took in a deep breath and then exhaled, steeling myself for having to think about my disastrous meeting with her.

"I tried to explain things to her, reason with her, but she wouldn't listen to me. So, I asked her to pretend we weren't together, but everything came back to you. I had to walk out on her and give up. She can't accept that we're together and that you're not a danger to me."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I know you two have been friends for a long time. Maybe when she sees that you’re still the same person, only happier, she'll come around."

I sighed. "I hope so."

We spent the rest of the evening as he suggested, lying on the couch, watching an old Bogart movie on television, eating microwave popcorn.

The next day dawned overcast, with a light sprinkling of snow falling outside the window. I lay in Drake's arms and watched the flakes drift lazily down and thought about Africa. It would be warm during the day in February when we'd arrive there, and would cool down at night. I always hated February in New York, cold and wet, and looked forward to clear nights when I could stargaze. I wanted to see the night sky in the southern hemisphere again.

I'd read about open sky bed vacations where you sleep under the stars on raised platforms, and wondered if Drake would be into that. It seemed like a perfect experience for me. The stars were so bright, the Milky Way so large and clear, it really looked like a galaxy. The view was unreal.

I got up and went to the bathroom, tiptoeing so that I didn't wake a sleeping Drake who was sprawled out on the bed. I quickly brushed my teeth, not wanting to greet him with morning breath and went back to the bedroom.

Drake was still asleep on his back, one forearm thrown over his eyes. In the night, he'd thrown off all his covers, as he usually did because he was so warm, and now, his body was nude except for the white bed sheets, which were tangled around his calves. He looked absolutely beautiful, his morning erection lying thick on his belly, the sunlight flooding in from the windows highlighting the musculature of his abdomen and arms.

I stood and stared at him, admiring his Adonis-like beauty. It was then I hatched an idea. I itched to draw him nude like that, asleep, and so I went to my backpack and took out the sketchbook I'd started to carry with me, so that I could capture little vignettes that I came across during my day.

I grabbed a few pencils, selected one with a soft lead, and stood by the bed, sketching Drake as he lay sleeping. I had to work fast. I didn't want him to know I was drawing him, so I used broad strokes, capturing his body on the bed, adding in the shadows and highlights in a very rough form. Later, I'd flesh it out, add fine detail. Maybe, once we got to Nairobi, I'd make a canvas and do a painting with acrylics. I hadn't painted for months and it would be a pleasure to have nothing to do – no work, no classes – so that I could indulge myself and paint.

The painting I planned would be more appropriate for a bedroom than any other room, but still. I
needed
to paint him. He was inspiration for my artistic muse.

When I'd finished the sketch, which took about fifteen minutes, I put my sketchbook and pencils away and crept back onto the bed. I pulled the sheet over me and moved closer to Drake, wondering if he'd want to do anything about that delicious looking erection. Drake inhaled deeply and moved beside me, leaning up on his elbow to check the clock radio on the nightstand. Then, he slipped quickly out of the covers and sat on the side of the bed.

"Good
morning
," I said. I crawled up behind him and kissed his shoulder and then his neck. "I love waking up with you beside me. What are your plans for the morning?" I slipped my hands around his waist and felt his erection. He groaned when I took him in my hand, but then, to my surprise, he took my hand away.

"I have a meeting," he said. "I'm late. Didn't the damn clock radio go off?" He glanced at the settings on the clock radio beside the bed. "Crap. I have to run. My appointment's in half an hour."

I lay back down, watching him as he left the bed.