Night with Sole Regret

TIE ME XXII

Kellen rose up on his elbows and stared directly at her forehead. “I… uh… thanks?”

Thanks? And not a statement, but a question. Wow, when had Mr. Deep and Sensitive vanished? s**t, was he one of those guys who pretended to be wounded to get in a woman’s pants? It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been duped into having s*x.

And, okay, she supposed that thanks were appropriate, but for some reason she got tickled by the earnest look on his face and started to laugh.

“Uh… you’re welcome?” she said in the same uncertain tone he’d used.

He grinned and then snorted as he tried to hold in a laugh. “That was pretty uninspired,” he said. “Let me try again. Your body is like a river of warm pleasure washing over me like… uh…” His eyes darted to the side as inspirational words apparently escaped him.

“A river of warm pleasure?” She was really laughing now. “You should have stuck with thanks.”

“Sorry for being lame. I have a hard time stringing coherent thoughts together after a really intense orgasm.” He grinned. “So yeah. Thanks!”

She wrapped him in an affectionate embrace, a little surprised that he wasn’t making excuses to leave.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” she asked, crossing her fingers behind his back.

Yes, s*x had definitely happened too soon with this deep and tortured man. She wanted him to stick around, but maybe it would be better to convince him to stay with something other than another really intense o****m. Not that she’d mind another one herself.

“What’s upstairs?”

She couldn’t tell if he was joking. “Uh, something more comfortable to cuddle on than this hard piano.”

He winced as he shifted slightly. “Such as a porcupine?”

“Even more comfortable than that.”

“I don’t think I can spend the night in your bed, Dawn,” he said. “Not because you aren’t the most wonderful thing that’s happened to me in a long, long time, but because…”

He didn’t have to say the words; she could read them on his face. He felt guilty for having s*x with her. He probably even felt guilty for being attracted to her and talking to her and eating her f*****g French toast, not to mention her p***y. Even in the low light given off by the single candle, the guilt in his eyes brought his reality crashing down around her. She knew letting go of Sara was difficult for him, and she wasn’t making it easy on him by jumping into this relationship at rocket speed, but someone had to shake him up. It might as well be her.

He glanced around the mostly dark room. “Would you settle for a sofa?”

“Anything’s better than this piano,” she said. “For resting on. Making love on it fulfilled a long-standing fantasy of mine, and the experience greatly exceeded my expectations. So… uh… thanks?”

He laughed and kissed the tip of her nose before scooting off the edge of the piano. Once standing, he stared down at her. “I never made love on a piano or even fantasized about it, but I will be from now on. You look absolutely stunning lying there.”

She basked in his attention as his gaze touched upon every inch of her naked body. She liked looking at him too. Especially when he was dripping wet as he had been the first time she’d seen him. “Have you ever made love on the beach?”

“Yeah,” he said, looking suddenly detached and forlorn.

Must have screwed Sara there, Dawn figured. She was starting to recognize that lost look as an indicator of that woman commandeering his thoughts. “And?”

“Sand everywhere,” he said. “In places you don’t want it. Making sandpaper out of body parts that have no business being abrasive.”

“Ouch,” she said breathlessly, a little curious to know what that would feel like, but she wouldn’t admit that to him. Mostly because it would make him think of her.

Would Dawn have to spend every moment with him watching what she said so she didn’t set off Sara triggers? Was he even worth that much effort?

Hell yeah, he was.

Kellen removed the condom and disposed of it among her waded-up attempts at musical scores in the wastepaper can. She pretended not to be affected by watching him do something so intimate. Every little thing he did fascinated her for some stupid reason. She’d probably weep at his masculine beauty if she watched him shave. Sheesh, she was glad the man could not read her thoughts. It was bad enough that he knew how quickly she’d become physically attached to him—if he had any idea that she was already making an emotional attachment, she wouldn’t be able to gaze at him for long, because he’d be gone.

“Making love on the beach seems as if it would be romantic,” she said.

“Romantic, yes, but also uncomfortable.”

She chuckled as he approached the piano again. “Apparently, making love in uncomfortable locations turns me on.”

He laughed and lifted her from the piano, cradling her head against his shoulder. Her arms automatically circled his neck. She expected him to set her on her feet, but he carried her to the sofa and sat with her on his lap.

“Tell me about your parents,” she said.

“While I’m naked and holding you in my arms?”

“Yep.”

“My mom had a drinking problem and I never met my dad. Tell me about yours.”

“My mom has a stick up her ass and my dad makes sure she keeps it there. I see them twice a year.”

“Christmas and Thanksgiving?”

“Lord, no. They spend the holidays on their private island in the Bahamas. No way am I marooning myself in their company when I’m supposed to be feeling good will toward man and thankful for my gifts. I see my father for a week in April. He reviews my financial situation with his tax attorney. It’s great fun. And I also get the pleasure of their company at the family reunion each year in July. That’s when they all get together and talk about which politician they’re currently courting and who has the most expensive yacht.”

“Can’t even begin to relate to that.”

She chuckled. “Me neither.”

“Didn’t you grow up in that environment?”

“Not really. I had a piano teacher and a variety of tutors, a housekeeper who made sure I was fed and clean, but mostly I had me.”

“You must have been lonely. I can relate to that. My grandfather owns a piece of land outside Austin. He lived in one trailer, and my mom and I lived in another. I made sure Mom was fed and clean, and grandpa tried to teach me how to find peace through connecting with the earth. I learned a lot from him before he died. He was half-Comanche and had a unique way of seeing things. When he passed, he left everything to my mom, so she started buying top-shelf vodka. Then my senior year in high school, she met some guy and left me on my own. I was eighteen, and she decided I’d rather finish school in Austin than follow her and Henry to Florida.”

“Did she ask you how you felt about that?”

“Nope, but she was right. I preferred to stay on my own. But her not giving me the choice made me feel unwelcome and unwanted.”

She squeezed his arm reassuringly. She’d never felt wanted either. But she wanted him and hoped that he wanted her too.

“I’ve never admitted that to anyone,” he said. “Not even Owen. When my mom moved out, he and I made it out like it was a huge party. I guess I needed that lie, that I was glad Mom left. Owen tends to dwell on the good and pretend the bad doesn’t exist. He keeps me going most days.”

“I think I’d like to meet him. It’s hard to find a good optimist.”

He laughed. “Yeah, Owen wears optimism like a shield.”

“Do you know who your father is?”

“Yeah. I never met him though. He contacted me when I was sixteen. Sent cards and letters, but I didn’t want to have anything to do with him. I was too angry at him for abandoning me.”

“You’ve never met him? Not even once?”

“No. He got killed in a car wreck before I could allow myself to forgive him. And then it was too late. I didn’t even find out about his death until a week after the funeral. I’m not sure if I would have gone had I known.”