Controversy (15 page)

N
o ifs, ands or buts about it, Kyson needed to get his head examined. One look into her glossy eyes, hearing her desperate plea, he'd dragged her out of the Blue Note so fast, she'd had trouble keeping up with him. If she wanted to go to his place, then fine, he'd take her there. The game now was to see whether she really wanted to talk or whether she had other things on her mind.

If it was
other things,
would he have the strength to reject her?

Kyson pushed that question to the back of his mind. He jerked opened the passenger door and held it open for her to climb inside.

Michael bypassed his offer for the backdoor.

“What are you doing?” he asked, suspicious.

“I think I'd better hide in the back,” she said. She made a quick glance around the sparse parking lot.

“Hide?” He watched as she struggled to hunker down on the back floorboard behind the passenger seat.

“Hey, can you help move the seat up for me?” she asked.

Frowning, Kyson did as asked and pulled the passenger seat closer to the dashboard.

Once she'd squeezed into the tight space, she mumbled a thanks.

“You're welcome,” he said, shaking his head and closing both doors. As he walked to the other side, he couldn't help thinking this entire episode should be captured on the old TV show
Candid Camera.

Quickly, he climbed into the driver's seat and started the car. For the first few minutes, silence crackled in the small compartment. What did one say in a situation like this?

It was nearing midnight. They were tired and wired at the same time.

“I didn't kill my ex-husband,” she said suddenly.

Kyson glanced back but said nothing.

“I know you don't believe me,” she added, her voice thick with emotion. “But I think I know who did it.”

Kyson's grip tightened on the steering wheel. Was this the part when she'd blame her two cohorts, claim they did it on their own accord or admit that she was caught up in some weird love triangle?

He waited in anxious anticipation, mentally urging her to continue. Instead what he received was tears. Not the long dramatic weepy kind of a seasoned actress, but the silent, heart-wrenching kind that softened his heart against his will.

“I know that I was angry with him, but I truly, truly didn't want anything bad to happen.” She sniffed. “Phil and I had been together for ten years. We were friends once—a long time ago. He was a prankster…sort of like me. We came from opposite sides of the tracks. He always thought that he had something to prove.

“Phil used to tease me that my family was like the Huxtables. He believed that money was never an issue. I could never convince him that wasn't true. People always want to believe that the grass is greener on the other side.”

Michael fell silent for a while and then continued. “We lost my mom to cancer. Dad struggled to keep everything together, but…anyway, I saw how everyone was falling apart. I stepped up—sort of planted myself as the mother hen of the family. Maybe sometimes I overdid it, but with a family of seven—it wasn't easy.” She mopped at her face. “I told Phil this, but he only saw what he wanted to see. He used to share his story about how he'd struggled to put himself through college. He thought of himself as a hustler, robbing Peter to pay Paul most of his life. I didn't see it at first. But Phil was always desperate for success. He wanted more than what he grew up with.”

“Who doesn't?” Kyson cut in softly.

“Yeah. I thought so, too,” she said. “Then Frankie married a millionaire, Joey an insanely rich Hollywood director. While I know we were both happy for them, it seemed to raise the bar for Phil. He wanted to be as successful as his brothers-in-law.

“All he talked about was making more and more money. Nothing was ever good enough. I never cared what he had…or what he didn't have for that matter, I just wanted to be married.” She emitted a sad little laugh. “I don't think I really cared who it was, I just wanted the title of Mrs. So-and-So so much that I overlooked a lot of things—too many things.”

“Why?” Kyson asked, drawn into the story.

“Every woman wants to be married,” she said. “We all want to
belong
to someone even if we don't realize it.”

The car fell silent again while Kyson realized it was true for men, too, but he figured out long ago that it was more important to belong to the
right
somebody. He glanced back. Maybe she was just figuring that out, as well.

“Anyway,” she finally said. “That was our marriage. Pathetic, huh?”

He weighed his answer. “I've heard worse,” he admitted.

“Yeah, well. Phil and I dated a few years, we were engaged even longer. The sad part was that our marriage was over almost as soon as it began. Phil worked most of the time and was never really around. He was always angling to get ahead, trying to make the big score. I was ready for the next step.”

“Kids?” he asked.

“First comes love, then comes marriage. It was time for the baby carriages.” Michael drew a deep breath. Her voice had finally grown stronger. “Phil kept saying that he wanted to wait until we were financially ready. As far as I could tell, we were. He made good money, but it was not enough for him. That started the fighting.”

Michael quieted while Kyson continued driving, eyes straight ahead.

“Phil wasn't a bad man,” she said in conclusion. “He was just the wrong man for me. The wrong man at the right time.”

Kyson didn't know what to make of Michael's long soliloquy, but he had plenty of time to run it through his mind a few times before he reached his gated apartment complex. He punched in his security code and eased down to his designated parking spot.

“Are we there?” she asked.

“We're here. Home sweet home,” he said, shutting off the engine. He exhaled a long breath and then asked himself one last time whether he wanted to do this. When no answer came, he went ahead and climbed out of the car.

He walked around the vehicle, opened the back door and helped her out. Only the sound of their shoes slapping the pavement broke the night's silence. After he unlocked his door, he held it open and waited.

Michael took a deep breath and crossed the threshold. She inched inside like a scared rabbit.

Kyson flipped on the light switch and bathed the apartment in light. “Make yourself at home.” He removed his jacket and hung it on a peg by the door.

She set down her bag and did likewise. “Thank you,” she whispered and turned back to access his sparsely decorated apartment. “Nice place,” she said, awkwardly following him into the living room, taking her bag.

“Thanks,” he said. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Water, if you don't mind.”

“Bottled or filtered?”

“Bottled.”

“Coming right up.” Kyson headed to the kitchen.

Michael set her bag next to the coffee table, still feeling awkward in her new surroundings.

Returning quickly, Kyson handed over the bottled water. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.”

“Don't mention it.” He glanced around. “Won't you have a seat?”

She nodded and settled into a plush, earth-toned sofa. “So how long have you lived here?”

“Why don't you tell me who killed your ex-husband?”

Their questions had overlapped one another and Kyson had the unpleasantness of watching her tears resurface.

“You're not going to believe me,” she said, dropping her gaze to the label of her bottled water.

“None of that has mattered so far,” he said, determined not to be swayed by tears a second time.

Michael drew a couple of shaky breaths and then downed half the bottled water.

Kyson watched her wearily as she placed the bottle on the coffee table and then folded her hands into her lap.

“I don't know who they are,” she said.

“That's not what you said in the car.”

Annoyance flashed in her eyes. “What I meant was I don't know their names.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But they've been following me. Today they chased me all over town. It's the same SUV that pulled behind my car last night.”

“The kidnappers?” he asked for clarification.

She nodded.

Kyson rolled his eyes. He couldn't help it. “Look, Mike—”

“I'm telling you the truth!”

“Is that right?” he thundered back, equally annoyed. “The truth? Why don't we start this over and you tell me exactly what you're hiding in your basement.”

“What? My basement?”

“Yes! Why wouldn't you let me go downstairs?”

Michael jumped to her feet. “Will you forget about the damn basement? I'm trying to tell you that I know who killed my ex-husband—people who are trying to kill me!”

“They're trying to kill you now? I thought that they just wanted to kidnap you.”

“They did! They do!”

Kyson also jumped to his feet. “Get your story straight. Do these people merely want to kidnap you or do they want to kill you?”

“I don't know what they want,” she shouted, her hysteria returning in full force.

“C'mon, Mike. Something's not adding up. If someone was truly trying to kidnap or kill you last night, why didn't you want to report it? Why wouldn't you file a report? Why wouldn't you file a description of these so-called kidnappers?”

“Because I, uh…”

“Hmm? I can't hear you.”

Because I thought my husband was paying me back for kidnapping him.
“Just because! All right?”

“Just because,” he repeated. “Well, that's certainly different.”

Michael groaned.

“You know, I would have thought a dramatic actress like yourself would have come up with a better reason than that.”

“I'm not acting!”

“But you're not telling the whole truth, either.”

She fell silent.

“Oh, come on. Everything about you is a big act. Last night was a big act—the slashed tires, disappearing kidnappers, alleged break-ins with nothing stolen, and let's not forget the big seduction number to get me to be your damn alibi when my cop buddies came sniffing around.”

She gasped. “I didn't make love to you for a damn alibi.”

“Oh, it's making love now?”

“I didn't have
sex
with you for an alibi.”

“Well?” He moved in close. “Why did you do it?”

“Because I…because I thought…because I felt…”

“You felt what?” he challenged, pressing his chest into hers. “You felt what?”

She sputtered again, the English language a fading memory.

“Maybe I should show you what I felt,” he said hoarsely, grabbing her by the waist and crashing his lips against hers.

M
ichael's body exploded with immeasurable pleasure while her mind careened into the heavens. God, how could she have forgotten it was like this with him? She moaned while his silken tongue glided over hers, sighed when his strong hands cupped and squeezed her breasts and trembled when his sex pressed against the softness of her belly.

They were both on fire.

Their clothes flew off in just a few blinks. Naked, Kyson and Michael tumbled to the floor, their bodies snapped together like a puzzle, both caught in the need to be together.

Kyson thought he was hard until his hand brushed against the velvet curls guarding the moist pink cavern between her legs. Now he was on the verge of exploding. He'd wanted to avoid this. It was why he had held on to his anger, but nothing had prepared him for this wonderful tide of emotion.

Michael Adams may be trouble; she may even be bad news. But right now in this moment in time, she belonged to him.

And if he had his way, he would never let her go.

Kyson lifted himself up during her soft whimpering moans and glided his fingers inside her moist entrance. Back and forth he probed while his mouth slanted across hers.

The sound of their breathing—his raspy, hers shallow—fell in tune with the pounding of their hearts.

Michael caressed his arms, his shoulders and his back while her hips surged forward in time with his fingers' wondrous strokes. It wasn't long before she shivered with pleasure, alerting him that her first orgasm was just seconds away.

Kyson's hot mouth abandoned hers to slide down her chin, neck and over to a bountiful breast.

Michael's head lolled, her eyes closed as she rode a wave of pleasure. Her uninhibited response to his touch served as a visual aphrodisiac.

Kyson's hand shook and the ache of his sex became painful.

Michael's sighs became a gasping falsetto while stars flashed behind her closed lids as her first orgasm eclipsed. Weak, light-headed, Michael's heart pounded a thunderous beat.

Kyson magically produced a condom and slid it on. He wasted no time entering her. The moment their bodies met, he nearly lost control. It had been the same way with her the first time. He loved her body's softness and he found that he wanted to touch her everywhere, pound his way into her heart.

Michael felt like a melted pool of wax. So loose, so languid. The feel of him inside of her was overwhelming. He was so hard. So hot. So big.

How was it that he was able to swallow her up? How did he make her burn so bright and not become a pile of cinders as their hips rocked, her breasts rubbing against his chest, flaring heat into her rock-hard nipples?

When her moans climbed, Kyson brushed small kisses along her jaw, nose and then finally slanted back across her mouth. The kiss was hot, wet and overwhelmingly erotic. He gave his tongue, she caught it between her teeth, teased him.

Kyson growled low.

Michael arched against him, taking him deeper. Just when she was about to come, he pulled back and commanded her to, “Get on your knees.”

She rushed to do what she was told, then gasped again in pleasure when he entered her from behind.

“Oh, baby. Yes!” Kyson kissed her back.

Michael slid her arms across the carpet, perking her butt higher in the air. She wanted desperately to feel every inch of him and was pleased that he was determined to give her what she wanted.

A sheen of perspiration covered Kyson's brow.

Michael felt hot, wet and wonderful all over. In no time, he'd flipped her back over, reclaimed her mouth and continued to hammer away while their tongues found their own mating dance.

She whimpered, trembled and quaked as her body yielded to her next orgasm.

“That's it, baby. That's it,” he coached, slipping his thumb between her feminine folds to caress her clit.

Her climax shot off like a rocket.

Almost immediately, Kyson's did the same.

Exhausted, the lovers collapsed and lay panting on the floor.

The reality of what they'd just done slowly seeped into their consciousness. When it did, Kyson was the first to chuckle and then start laughing.

Still struggling to catch her breath, Michael glanced at him, almost too afraid to ask, “What's so funny?”

“We are,” he confessed. “Don't tell me that you, of all people, don't see the humor in all this.”

“Actually, I don't.” She turned away. “I didn't call you so you could bring me here and seduce me.”

“Seduce you? Lady, I like your nerve.” He sat up and glanced down at her. However, that was a big mistake. One look at her luscious body and he was hard all over again.

Unaware of his sudden lustful thoughts, Michael sat up, as well, and looked around for her clothing. “Look, I'm tired of this. It's obvious you don't believe me and don't want to help me.” She found a shirt and shoved it on. “Where's your bathroom so I can take a shower? Then I'll get out of your hair for good.”

Standing, her full apple bottom moved before his face.

Kyson went temporarily deaf as his gaze locked on her lovely behind.

Michael looked over, catching his stare. How could a woman not be flattered? She cleared her throat and broke his lustful trance.

“Upstairs.” Her question finally sank in. “The shower is through the master bedroom.”

“Thanks,” she said, turning toward the staircase. She was halfway up when she felt his hand on her wrist. She stopped, turned.

“When you come out, I think we need to discuss your going to the station tomorrow morning to file a report—that's if what you're saying is true. You need to get everything on record.”

“I'd rather you help me find out who these people chasing me around town are.”

“That is the job of the police.”

Michael shook her head. “No offense, but me and the police don't mix.”

“I thought we mixed rather well.”

Her face flushed while she held his stare. For a few long seconds, she wavered on what to do. Telling the whole truth would mean admitting that she'd lied about her husband's disappearance, the kidnapping—everything. “How about I promise to think about it?”

Kyson cocked his head. “You'll think about it?”

“Yes,” she said. “That's all I can promise for right now.”

He spat out a disbelieving chuckle. “C'mon. What's your pl—What is it that you really want me to do? Why did you call me?”

She sighed. “Just help me find out who they are and what they want.”

Disappointment shone clearly in his expression.

She waited for his answer. When it didn't seem as if one was forthcoming, she probed, “Well?”

“How about I'll think about it?”

Michael lifted her chin. “Fair enough.” She held his gaze and leaned forward and kissed him, softly at first, but, loving the taste, she pressed harder and ignited a fire she couldn't contain.

Kyson moaned like a man being tortured.

Immediately drunk with power, she stepped down one stair as their bodies brushed together while she wrapped a hand around his swollen sex.

He sucked in a breath, drawing her bottom lip in between his teeth.

It didn't matter. She was too caught up, sliding her hands along his silky shaft. She loved the feel of him.

She took two steps down so that now he towered above her. Then she slowly sank to her knees while maintaining eye contact.

Kyson's eyes widened as she gently kissed the tip of his shaft and then boldly flicked her tongue against the head. His flesh became hard as steel as she unabashedly slid it between her lips.

“Sweet Jesus,” he moaned.

That was her thought exactly. His tangy sweetness was the most delicious thing she'd ever had and she was determined to have as much of him and for as long as she wanted.

Kyson lacked the ability to remain standing. He slowly lowered himself to sit on a stair; it was either that or tumble down. Regardless, Michael's mouth never broke contact during her wondrous sucking. Jointly, her warm mouth, tight throat and silky tongue had to be the eighth wonder of the world.

He could almost swear that she was trying to suck the soul out of him. He leaned back, spread his legs wide and watched her work her magic. All the while, she never took her eyes off of him.

“Oh God,” he recited, tangling his hands in her hair. Her teasing brought him to the brink a few times, but then she slowed her rhythm to prolong his pleasure.

Kyson tried to cheat by lifting his hips and pumping a few extra strokes. Finally she hit the magic spot, caused his eyes to roll into the back of his head as he unleashed a mother lode.

When his breathing returned to normal, he saw the wicked grin on her face and had the sudden urge to pay her back.

“Your turn,” he said, making her crawl up on all fours the length of his body until the apex of her sex hovered above his open mouth. He then proceeded to polish the pink pearl between her legs with long, smooth strokes of his tongue.

Michael's pleasure-filled moans echoed throughout the apartment, making him hard again. He slipped one hand into her wet body and kept the other locked around his shaft; both pumped away while his tongue drove her toward madness.

In no time, she was trying to crawl away from the intense pleasure but, in the end, she was too weak to get too far.

“Don't think I'm finished with you yet,” he said, sliding from beneath her only to pop back up and enter her from behind.

Michael grabbed hold of the banister while Kyson rocked her body in a violent storm of thrusts.

It was all too much.

Too consuming.

Too wonderful.

When her body exploded, she swore she nearly blacked out from the overwhelming sensations.

A few strokes later, Kyson roared and sent a hot spray of semen against her back and then collapsed beside her on the stairs.

At some point, somehow they made it to his bedroom, took their showers and then passed out as soon as their bodies fell onto the bed. However, Michael had not planned on waking up—handcuffed.