Kiss the Sky (12 page)

He suddenly grips me by the waist, the belt wrapped around
his hand. And he slides my back halfway down to a slumped position. One of his
hands grips the top of the chair. He now shrouds my face from the cameras, but
in the same instance, he dominates me completely.

He unwinds the belt and brings my wrists behind my back. He
binds them together, the leather snug on my skin. Connor knots the belt and
then cups my face. He begins rocking to the beat of the music.

He grinds his pelvis into mine, following the rhythm and
tempo so it’s not just dry humping. He’s giving me a lap dance, and it’s more
sensual than anything I could have accomplished.

I struggle to keep my eyes on his. I am so aware of the
people in the room, of the cameras, of the fact that he’s on
top
of me, my legs hanging with
uncertainty around him.

As his hardness digs into me, my nerves prickle, and my toes
constrict in my high heels.
Oh my God…

Is this really happening? In front of everyone? And
soon-to-be nationally televised.

What did I get myself into?

His parted lips reach my ear. “Ne
pense
pas.”
Don’t think.

That’s a little
difficult, Richard.
But I can’t open my mouth to form the words. His
movements quicken with the music, rougher, and I grit my teeth hard to hold in
a sound that tickles my throat.
Oh…God…
This
shouldn’t arouse me this much. Not with everyone watching.

I shut my eyes for a second, my head tilting back. He still
holds my face in a strong, controlling hand. His mouth is so close to my cheek
as he moves. I don’t have to look to feel him studying me, watching me, a keen
eye on all my needs. He knows me too well.

He grinds hard, and a sharp noise jumps out of my mouth.
Shit.
Before I can dwell on what just
happened, he takes his hand off the chair and slides it to my thigh and up
towards my bottom. My eyes shoot open, and I jerk my hands, but they’re caught
in his belt restraint.

I glare, and his smile grows, filled with that familiar
arrogance.

I am much more aware of what’s going on. I peek behind his
arm and spot my sisters. Lily’s mouth is permanently hung open, but Lo covers
her eyes with his hand. So it’s safe to presume she caught Connor being wicked
in public, which is a rare sight to behold. He’s usually only so uncouth in
private.

Daisy sits on the armrest of a couch, and she wears a big
grin.
Ryke
and Lo just watch in curiosity. And
Scott…as soon as I turn my head to look at the producer, Connor grabs my chin
and forces me back to him.

“
Lui
donneriez-vous
ce
qu’il
veut
?”
You would give
him what he wants?
His eyebrow arches, and then his lips press to my jaw,
kissing gently before sucking deeply.

The breath rushes out of me. The moment his eyes meet mine
again, I say, “Il ne
peut
pas
m’avoir
.”
He can’t have me.
I should stop
there. I shouldn’t add anything else. But I don’t want to lose this battle. I
don’t make this easy for Connor. I give him the challenge he craves. “
Aucun
homme
ne
peut
.”
No man can.

His lips find my ear again. “We’ll see.” And then he wraps an
arm around the small of my back, melding my body to his, and his other hand
slips into my hair.

Before I can think about anything, he kisses me on the lips,
his tongue parting mine, his whole body pushing against me. The place between
my legs pulses for a heavy force, and my limbs tighten in rebut.
Good God…

The music cuts off. And I realize that Connor has stopped
rocking against me as soon as the song ended. We’re kissing more passionately
than I can ever remember, his fingers grasping my hair, my wrists digging
against the leather as I want, so desperately, to touch him back.

“All right,” Scott says. “That’s enough.”

His voice yanks me back into my head. I withdraw from Connor
and turn my face before he can kiss me again. My body is flushed and sweaty,
and my heart can’t stop pounding.

“Wow,” Daisy says, clapping, “that was hot. Solid 10.”

“How much did I miss?!” Lily cries out, trying to pry
Lo’s
fingers off.

“It was way too scandalous for your pretty eyes, love,” Lo
says with a grin. He drops his hand and kisses her on the temple.

I still try to catch my breath. Connor watches me carefully
as he unties the belt. I keep my eyes narrowed at the wall.
What just happened?

When Connor stands, I straighten up on the chair, but my
muscles won’t cooperate to do more than that.

“We were supposed to see a lap dance,” Scott says. “Not a
porno.”

“Did I make you uncomfortable?” Connor asks in his usual
impassive voice. He tucks his shirt back in his slacks and begins buttoning it.
But he stays close to me.

Scott says nothing in reply.

“Allow me to accommodate your feelings then,” Connor tells
him. “There’s the door. You’ll be much happier on the other side of it.”

Loren almost breaks into a giant grin at the
diss
, but his hot-tempered glare pins to the producer
instead.

Scott scratches his scruffy jaw and just nods. Then he heads
into the kitchen. On television, I wonder who’s going to come across as the
bigger asshole in this scenario.

Ryke
stands and says, “Cobalt,
were you or have you ever been a stripper?”

“No one would be able to afford me.”

“It was
Magic Mike
,
wasn’t it?” Lily asks. “You had to have seen that movie.” She turns to Lo and
gives him round pleading eyes. “Let’s see it just
one
time. It’s not porn.”

“Channing Tatum’s abs might as well be porn,” Daisy
interjects.

 
Lo just kisses the
top of Lily’s head in reply.

She lets out a resigned sigh, and her eyes trail off in
thought. “I do need a shower after watching that.” Her cheeks immediately
redden at the slip and her eyes bug. I can practically hear her thoughts:
Did I say that out loud?
Yes. Yes you
did, Lily.

Daisy nudges her arm with a smile. “I totally call it after
you.”

Ryke
and Lo groan, but Lily
relaxes at the idea that she’s not the only one aroused. Hell, I can’t move
because I know just how wet I am. Connor basically just electrocuted me with
his pants
on.

Ryke
stands up from the couch.
“I’m going to the gym. Anyone want to come?”

Daisy gasps. “You masturbate at the gym?”

He chucks a pillow at her face, and she catches it with a playful
smile.

Loren turns to Lily. “You’re really going to take a shower?”
His voice is full of disbelief. I’ve heard them arguing about the bathroom
situation since we moved in. Lily has yet to bathe, mostly out of fear of Scott
walking in. I would coax those fears if I didn’t have the same ones, hence why
I shower at five in the morning.

She goes quiet, and Loren drops his voice. “You smell like
sex,” he whispers, but I’m still close enough to hear. “You’ve got to take one
soon.”

She stares at her hands. “Can we take them together? I won’t
do anything, I promise. I’ll feel…safer.”

There’s a long pause before he says, “Only if we wear
bathing suits. I just don’t want to tempt you for six months, Lil.”

Her face brightens and she throws her arms around his neck.

I rub my sore wrists, unsure of everything for a moment.
Connor suddenly grabs my hand and effortlessly lifts me to my feet.

He stares down at me, and I realize what could have happened
today. I could have awkwardly fumbled around him. I could have embarrassed
myself on national television. Instead, he made me feel desired and hot instead
of mortified and cold.

My eyes blanket in gratitude, the
thank you
on the tip of my tongue.

But his thumb brushes against my cheek and he says, very
softly, “You’re welcome, darling.”

I exhale, glad that I don’t have to struggle to produce the
words anymore. The kitchen cupboards clatter loudly as Scott lumbers around.

“You fucked with his plans,” I whisper.

“He’ll wipe his tears and get over it later.”

I’m not as optimistic. “Or he’s going to find something that
you can’t screw up.”

[ 11 ]

ROSE CALLOWAY

It’s still dark outside when my phone buzzes on
the nightstand. I rub my drowsy eyes and check the clock.
4:30 a.m
. I reach perilously for my phone in the dark and knock off
a bottle of aspirin. It clatters to the floor, and I look over my shoulder to
make sure Connor hasn’t woken up.

He remains unmoving on his side of the bed.

We didn’t have sex. We’ve been amicably sleeping together
without doing more than I want—which isn’t quite right. I’m not exactly sure
what I want when it comes to sex anymore. But I hesitate to give him that part
of me—the part that he may take in triumph and then disappear with.

Carefully, I turn on the phone and cup my hand around the
screen, blocking the glow.

5 months and 12 days
until the wedding
– Mom

Thanks, Mom.
I
text back, knowing she won’t catch the thick sarcasm.

Yesterday, when she sent me the
5 months and 13 days
update, Lily opened the text on my phone. She
almost needed a paper bag to hyperventilate into. She wants to be married about
as much as a dog wants to be hit by a car. Planning the wedding is like shoving
her into traffic, which is why I offered my services.

Planning. Organizing. Preparing. These are things I excel
in. I even mediate between my mother’s requests and Lily’s wishes. As far as
our parents go, Lily has tried to have little contact with them. The guilt of
hurting Fizzle is a wound she doesn’t like to reopen often. So I have become
Lily Calloway’s middleman—always reassuring our parents that she’s not bingeing
on cock.

Although if I said such a thing to my mother, she’d have a
coronary.

But every time I ask my sister about invitations or music,
she turns pale and mumbles something like
you
choose
. So I’m no closer to planning the wedding than Lily is to wanting to
get married. Which infuriates our mother. I’m sure I’ll receive a phone call
and lecture about time management later this afternoon.

“Everything okay,
hun
?”

My heart jumps at Connor’s voice. I roll over to see him
wide awake, head propped up by his hand.

“It’s just my mother,” I say in a whisper. “Sorry I woke
you.” I’m about to roll back to the far end of the mattress when my phone
buzzes again.

Send me the Calloway
Couture sales reports from last week. I’d like to have a financial advisor look
over them. –
Mom

I let out an aggravated growl. “She knows I don’t want her
involved in my company anymore,” I say more to myself than Connor. “Why can’t
she just back off?”

I don’t reply to her in text again. From experience, I know
it’s best not to start an argument over the phone. Especially one at
four-thirty in the morning.

“So you do want to talk,” Connor says with the raise of his
eyebrows.

“No.” I blink and shake my head. “Sorry. It’s too early…” I
go to turn and Connor catches my arm.

“I have time for you,” he says. I watch him sit up, fluff
his pillow and lean against the headboard. He waves me on. “Let’s hear it.”

I rise a little, my legs tucked in front of me, and I tug
the hem of my royal-blue silk nightgown. “When I told her I wanted to do a
reality show to help Fizzle and Calloway Couture, the first thing she said was,
it’d better work, and if it doesn’t, then
I have two daughters that have ruined the Calloway name.
” I stare at the
sheets and shake my head. “Who says that to their own daughter?”

Connor is quiet as he patiently lets me vent. Usually, I
wait until therapy to unleash my aggravation. But at the end of those sessions,
I’m always prescribed anti-anxieties, whereas Connor usually ends our
conversations by calming most of my worries.

I continue as I think about her texts. “And even though I’ve
reminded her a hundred times that I have Lily’s wedding under control, she
insists on butting in.
You can’t have red
velvet cake, Rose. Make the color scheme gold, like Fizzle, Rose. That venue is
too small, Rose. Oh, but that one is too large
.” I throw up my hands after
imitating her. “I can’t do anything right.”

“Have you tried ignoring her?” Connor asks.

He knows I haven’t. I crumble at my mother’s persistence.
And even if she becomes overbearing and a little too much to handle, there is a
part of me that loves that she cares. That she’d rather spend her time thinking
about her daughters than worrying about mindless matters.

“I love her even if I hate her,” I say, not entirely
responding to his question.

“A paradox,” Connor muses. “I like those. They make life
interesting.”

My eyes flit to his. We don’t have these heart-to-hearts
often. It’s much more fun to debate over Freud’s misogynistic theories. But
we’ve spoken about Connor’s relationship with his own mother a couple times.
She’s not cold or maternal. She just
is
.
At least that’s how he’s always described Katarina Cobalt. As if she’s nothing
more than his boss.

I’d love to meet her, but Connor has lied to me about her
being busy for over a year. He doesn’t want me to see her for whatever asinine
reason, and even if he won’t tell me why, I respect his opinion. So when she
called me a couple days ago, I brushed her off with the same excuse Connor has
been using.
I’m
too busy for coffee
and definitely too busy for brunch. It was rude, but if she listens to gossip
and socialite mutterings, she’d know I’m a bit of a bitch.