The Broken Sister Part 13

He grinned and put his hands up. "Okay, I'll let you."

She tugged at the b.u.t.ton and zipper and reached in to find the warmth of him tucked hot and hard against his stomach. She liked the feel of him and let her hand rest there. He moaned and she glanced up at him. Every inch of his body felt and looked appealing to her. The blond hairs of his chest, the warmth of his skin. She released him and leaned down to help him get out of his jeans. He jutted out towards her and she got to her knees and kissed his thighs and finally she licked him. She put her lips against the end and dragged him into her mouth. He moaned and his hands moved all around her back in restless energy. She gripped his thighs with her hands and began to work him. His hips thrust towards her mouth. Her head moved as frantically as her body wanted to be over him. The sounds of appreciation coming from his mouth was enough to make her grow wet again.

Suddenly his hands were under her arm pits and he was lifting her up, her mouth sliding off him with a pop. "The first time I'm coming into you," he mumbled as he put her on the bed while he went to his night table and fumbled around, coming back with condoms. He threw them down as he came next to her and his mouth found hers once more. He fumbled around trying to put the condom on.

He spread her legs and his gaze was hot right on the core of her. He leaned down and ran his tongue along her. She gasped and her entire body shuddered and color seemed to spark through her bloodstream.

Then he lifted his face from her and kissed her up her chest until he latched onto her t.i.t and his big body filled her up in one quick, hot hard lunge. She took all of him and gasped out his name. Her body shook at the pressure as he slid out and in before he shifted and suddenly they were facing each other. She was straddling him and he was staring into her eyes as her arms went around his neck and they were face to face, their bodies touching in the most intimate ways while their gazes locked. She'd had the o.r.g.a.s.ms before, and in all ways. But she had not done so while in a gaze-lock like this. The intense way he was watching her, experiencing this with her. The way it created this intense and almost embarra.s.sing intimacy. She wasn't sure how to handle it. They groaned and he suddenly pulled her tight against his chest as he held her steady and shoved up into her over and over until she was screaming his name and riding him.

He came just after she did, gasping her name and holding her steady as his body seemed to vibrate and jerk into hers. Sweat beaded their bodies slick. His arms were around her until he pushed her back to stare into her eyes.

She didn't smile. Neither did he. It felt... beyond that. Beyond smiling. The atmosphere between them felt heavy, deep somehow.

His hands came up to her face and he outlined her lips with his finger. "You're-"

She waited for it. Hot. A great f.u.c.k. A good lay. Skinny. What? She couldn't picture what Tristan Aderly would say to her. After this. She'd heard it all. She'd also had guys hurl snarling insults at her in these moments.

"Beautiful."

She almost pushed him off her, thinking he was being sarcastic. Rude. Mocking her. But no, his gaze was ensnared in hers. And there was only that same look in his eye. He leaned forward and the gentlest of kisses touched her lips. "You're really beautiful, Kylie."

He was still in her. Her breath held for a moment. It was the first time anyone had ever said such a thing to her. Besides her mother. Her mother had told her that.

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I'm terrible at finding original ways to say it. But it's true. There is something about you..." His shoulders shrugged. "I can't even define it. But it's beautiful in you."

She licked her lips as her gaze darted down and she shook her head. "No one's ever said such a thing to me. If you say it all the time, to every woman you sleep with, I don't care. I'm just glad you said it to me."

His knuckle hooked under her chin. He nudged her gaze up. "It wasn't a line. It was a moment. I wanted to say it, to you, and only you."

"Most don't define me as beautiful, especially when I'm naked."

He his eyebrows wrinkled. "I didn't have s.e.x with just your body. I had s.e.x with you."

Then his golden grin came back, like the skies had parted to make way for the sun once more. He gently lifted her off him and back onto his bedspread. He tossed the condom. She worried about it on that pristine flooring of his. But he just shuffled all around until he found the edge of his blankets. "Come here."

She didn't snuggle. Never had. Ever. No. She slept with guys. She did this all just fine. Even the naked part with her skinny a.s.s. But staying? Together? He seemed to realize she wasn't following. He swore softly. "You're not trying to plot how to leave, are you?" His tone was increasingly offended.

"I'm not." Her tone was feeble and unsure. Wasn't she?

"You are," he accused. He folded his arms over his chest.

She was more shocked by the grin that started to tilt up her mouth. She was grinning. Now. Just after s.e.x. She didn't often grin at any time, but now? Never. But he was leaning against his headboard, glaring at her as if she had greatly offended him. She'd never slept with a guy who had asked her to stay, let alone wanted her to say.

"I'll make you come again later, but right now, I want to lay with you."

"This isn't a negotiation. And I wasn't hesitating for that reason."

"Oh, I know why you're hesitating. I've gleaned that much about you. Run. Avoid. Push away. Isolate yourself. I know what you do, Mrs. Kylie McKinley. But I really didn't expect you to do it right now."

She was on her knees, naked, and he was glaring at her still. She tilted her head. He was mad. She didn't know how to compute it. No one ever wanted her to stay. She never really considered it a walk of shame, but more an obvious fact of Okay, we're done.

Except Tristan wasn't done with her.

"I don't isolate myself. I have lots and lots of s.e.x. How isolating is that?"

She waited for him to throw back an obvious retort like, It shows. Instead his gaze went darker. His mouth pulled tighter together and his jaw locked. "You're the most reclusive, isolated college coed I've ever met. But I thought you didn't feel that way towards me. You took me home, to your parents. I don't buy that I'm another guy to you."

Her mouth twisted up. "c.o.c.ky, aren't you?"

"No, sure of why you're suddenly scared of me."

She bristled. "I'm not scared of you."

"You're so unsure of me you can't see straight."

She crossed her arms over her scrawny chest. "If that's the case, then why do I sit here openly naked?" she dared him.

He smiled, but the c.o.c.kiness was gone and it was a gentle, almost coaxing tilt of his mouth. "Because it's what you think you have to offer. I'm here to tell you there's a whole lot more you add to that."

"You don't know anything," she whispered.

"You're wrong. I know about you. So why don't you just come here. I'm tired. Let's sleep."

She finally crawled to him. He let her settle in against the luxurious sheets. She sighed in bliss. "Maybe it's that you're all old and rich and stuff that has me unsure."

"Uh-huh. There's that. But there's your whole recluse thing too."

"I'm not a recluse." She tilted her head up so they were facing each other. He leaned over and kissed her mouth again.

"Goodnight, Kylie." His smile was gentle, essentially shushing her.

She fell back and stuck her tongue out at him as she finally mumbled, "Goodnight... sir." She then flipped over quickly.

He was just as quick on top of her. "Sir, is it? What did I tell you about that? You want to call me sir, we can find a lot more interesting uses than reminding me how much older I am than your youthful little a.s.s."

He was grinning and she was laughing as he quickly withdrew her from the covers he'd so nicely coaxed her into and within minutes they were tangled up all together, mouth to toes, as they laughed, giggled, smiled, kissed and touched.

Chapter Eleven.

POUNDING WOKE TRISTAN UP. It wasn't a physical knock but his own head splitting open. He opened his eyes to the pain gripping his forehead. His room was in gloomy morning shadow. He glanced at his clock. Five o'clock. No more sleeping he knew, even if it was Sunday. He flipped the covers off and headed off to his bathroom. He p.i.s.sed and threw a bunch of water at his eyes and downed some aspirin, drinking liberally from the faucet. He caught his reflection and winced. He had accomplished his goal. He had succeeded. Just as Grandfather had always required. Good trained monkey that Tristan was-he always delivered.

He fisted his hand. He wasn't telling Grandfather. There was no pictures. There never would be. He wasn't sure what the situation was exactly. But however he worked this out, he wasn't telling anyone about what he did with Kylie. He stared harder into the mirror, shaking his head. No one in his family would ever know. Not about her. Not about them.

There had to be some other answer to this. Something he hadn't thought of or wasn't seeing. There had to be something so much better than using-no, in all honesty, abusing Kylie. His head beat viciously again as he thought it out. Thought of her finding out. He had to do better. Find a way to make this up to her, how he first came after her. She'd find out about him, of course there was no doubt of that. He had a loaded gun to his head in terms of time with her. But he just needed time to figure this out better. A better way, for her, for him, and for Tommy.

Resolved, he opened the bathroom door. The light arced over her. The covers were twisted around her lower half. Her back was bare and smooth, facing towards him. He stepped closer and slid next to her, staring down at her startled. Her back was maybe the width of his hands together where it tapered to meet with the barely raised ridge of her b.u.t.t. She had pale skin. But there in a curving S shape, starting up just below her shoulder and traveling down to her tailbone, was a tattoo. It was a branch done all in black that trailed with smaller vines from the thicker main stem. Little flowers cl.u.s.tered in a couple of spots. It was a beautiful picture. Black and stark against the thin smoothness of her back. There was the faintest hint of pink colors in just the center of the blossoms. It cut her back in two halves, breaking her.

He got it immediately. His finger trailed down it, following the line and her thoughts. He was sure she'd created it. It looked a lot like the drawings in her apartment. Last night he hadn't noticed it. There was something about it. Haunting, sad, tragic, and somehow beautiful. Kind of a metaphor for the girl whose back it bisected. She stirred under his ministrations. He leaned down and kissed the base of it. She murmured a little more. He followed the twist of the first branch as his tongue traced one of the flower blossoms and she murmured her approval, stretching her legs out, falling flatter on her stomach. Her head popped up off the pillow and she turned her profile towards him as her gaze sought out the clock. She groaned when she read it.

"Do you realize what time it is?"

His fingertips kept brushing up and down her back. "Can't barely sleep past now."

She let her head fall down and slid her arms over her head and under the pillow. "What? So that means I can't either? That's what old people do, Tristan. My grandparents get up at five thirty every day of the week. It's their routine and they can't sleep any later because of it. Aren't you a little young to act so old?"

Her words were m.u.f.fled into the pillow so every other word came out missing syllables. She groaned however when he kneaded her back harder. Her spine poked his palms when he rubbed his hands over her. "This is your work, isn't it?"

Her head moved in affirmation. "I designed it. Someone at the dorm had a mom who is a tattoo artist so she did the work for me. I had to start working at The Acorn to afford to finish it."

He traced it with his index finger. "I can imagine. It's a work of art."

"Surprised?"

"Actually, probably more surprised there aren't more tattoos or that this one isn't way more visible."

"I don't want my mom to know."

He stilled his ministrations. "Are you for real?"

"Yes. Why?"

"What do you let your family know about you?"

"They know enough. I just try to keep quiet some of the... edgier stuff."

"Edgier stuff?"

"Yeah, you know, the stuff no parent would want to know about."

"Kylie?"

"Hmm?"

He leaned down so his mouth was right at her ear. "You're not all that edgy."

Her head popped up and she whipped her gaze to his. "How do you figure?"

"You're a junior in college, who, shockingly, seems to go to her cla.s.ses and pa.s.s them. You work at a restaurant and from appearances show up and do a stellar job. I'm sorry, I might be missing something here, but what exactly is so bad about you or how you behave?"

"The drinking, partying, s.e.x, and how grossly skinny I am."

Her breath hissed over the words. He could tell she wasn't used to uttering them out loud. Something b.u.mped hard in his chest. d.a.m.n. She admitted stuff to him she didn't usually. "Don't start with the name calling about your body or your s.e.x life, let's start there. No more name calling."

"Well, then whatever. But you see I'm skinny. I do things no one understands. Things they wouldn't approve of."

"Maybe your mom needs to be told. All of it. What you feel and see and call yourself. You might be surprised what she has to say about it. I see a girl with some issues, mostly self-esteem related that don't really hurt anyone else. You don't really do anything that's all that shocking. I'm sorry. I don't think your self-a.s.sessment is right."

"I can't tell my mom about me."

"Why?"

"You don't understand how much she's gone through and how long it has taken her to rebuild her life. I am her greatest failure in life and I don't want to rub it in even more."

"Has she told you that?"

"Of course not. She would never talk to me like that."

"Ally tells you that?"

"Not in so many words. Ally just tries to fix me. So message received."

"I don't see the great failure that you are. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Who is Micah?"

Her body went taunt under his hands. Her back arched and her fist clenched as she pulled her arms closer to her. "How do you know that name?"

"The name was mentioned at dinner and everyone went sickly silent. Who is it?"

"My... my...father."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't connect it up. It seemed like an awkward, angry pause, not a sad one."

"He didn't die," she finally admitted. Her reluctance was clear in her tone of voice. "I know that's what you think. I try to make everyone think that. But he didn't."

"What happened then? Why does everyone go silent at the mention of his name?"

"He stole a bunch of money, I never knew the exact total, but it was a lot. He used some of it to pay off our house and bills so when he disappeared mom wasn't totally ruined. But he also stole from Donny, strangers and his own parents. I don't see his parents but Mom says they are pretty horrible. Anyway, Micah's dad was going to turn him into the cops. He told my mom what he did, and then a few days later, just disappeared. He left us. Gone. Poof. One day I had a family, and the next I didn't. Micah was caught years later, tried and convicted. He spent three years in prison before he was released early... part of some overcrowding relief thing. He was let out way too soon. How could three years make up for the lives he ruined, the people he betrayed and left, and bankrupted?"

"How old were you?"

"Ten. I was ten years when he left. I was only in fifth grade. I came home from school and Donny was there, not Mom or Dad. It was so odd. He stayed the night and then finally the next morning my mom came out. I thought she was sick or dying, she looked so bad. She sat me and Ally down and told us this story. It felt like this fictional fairytale or news story. This could not be us. Not our family. It didn't feel like this crazy tale could be about us. We weren't like this. But Micah had just left. It was easier for him to leave us, his family, his wife and kids, than to just do the punishment and come back to us. My family... I mean until then, I thought my parents were the moon and stars. But then..."

"He just left."

"Without a word. I never spoke to him again. I never heard his voice again. I have spent years, hours and hours, reflecting, and the thing I most think about and can't answer is what did he last ever say to me? Did he care he was leaving me forever? Did he show it? Some little sign? I-I can't find any proof in my memories. I just don't remember our last interaction and that's what I most want to remember. Him. My father... when he was still in my life."

And here was the key to Kylie. She was searching for her dad. In every interaction. In every relationship since. She was looking for signs of cracks, of the fissures that would make the next person leave her. Always.