Chapter Eight
Oh fuck. His head hurt like someone was taking a baseball bat to it.
Lying in bed, Brett contemplated getting up to find some kind of painkiller. But that would mean getting up. He lay there for a while, memories of yesterday seeping into his consciousness and bringing horror and humiliation.
Holy shit. He’d gotten drunk. In front of Kenzie. In front of his sailors. So drunk that they’d had to nearly carry him out of the fairgrounds.
More memories came, this time of him shoveling nachos and burritos down his throat. Taco Heaven. He hadn’t been there since he was a teenager and his cousin had gotten him high. Had he…had he actually begged his sailors to take him there?
Groaning, Brett pulled the pillow over his head to help block out the morning light. Block out the memories. The pounding in his head didn’t stop, though. It took a few seconds to realize that the pounding was coming from his front door.
Probably one of his men coming to check on his ass.
Swinging his legs out of bed, he stumbled to the front door—ready to tell whomever it was to get lost. He unlocked the door and bolt and then swung it open. With the sunlight glaring behind the person, it took a minute to figure out who it was, but soon a very definite female silhouette took form.
“Can I come in?”
Kenzie. For once, he had absolutely no desire to see her.
“No.”
He tried to shut the door and she grabbed it, pushing it back open. She was stronger than she looked, he mused, or he was too weak and hungover.
“What are you doing here?” It was a near-snarl.
“You told me not to forget about you, remember?” She gave him a cheerful smile and closed the door behind them.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Yesterday…” Her words trailed off and her gaze slid over him, lingering on his bare chest. She swallowed hard.
Never one to be self-conscious, he wasn’t about to start now. Besides, he had on boxers and that was practically overdressed for the hell his body was going through.
“It doesn’t…never mind.” She shook her head and blinked, adjusting the paper bag in her hand. “Have you taken anything for your head?”
“No.”
“Go lie your arse back down. I’ll bring you something.” And she disappeared into his house as if she’d been there a hundred times.
How the hell did she even figure out where he lived in the first place?
He wanted to argue, but his damn head pounded with every breath he drew in. This was why he didn’t drink whisky. He should’ve known better. Should’ve read more into that twinkle in Kenzie’s eye when she’d made the offer to go sample some.
He crawled back into bed, beyond the point of worrying about pride, and pulled the blanket over his head. Several minutes passed before he heard her soft footsteps in his bedroom.
“I’ve brought water and painkillers. Take them before you fall back asleep.”
As if he could sleep through the pounding. He sat up carefully and accepted the glass of water and three pills. He tossed the pills into his mouth, took a swig of water and then swallowed.
“Drink the whole glass.”
Glaring at her over the rim, he obliged. More out of thirst than from her request.
He turned his head to check the time on his bedside clock. Almost nine in the morning. Jesus. He never slept this late.
“Lie back down,” she said softly. “I’ll wake you when breakfast is ready. Hopefully the meds will have kicked in by then.”
She turned to leave and he caught her wrist, stopping her retreat.
“Why are you here, Kenzie?”
Her lashes fluttered down and she gave a small shake of her head. “Guilt. Plain and simple. Hoping I can get you to forgive me.”
He grunted. “Not only did my men have to see their chief drunk out of his mind, but also begging for burritos. How the hell do I come back from that kind of low?”
She winced. “Ouch, I really owe you one. I’ll start by fixing you some hangover food.”
He smoothed his thumb over the silky underside of her wrist. Despite the pain in his head, he allowed himself a moment to really look her over.
She certainly didn’t appear as if she’d come here to seduce him. The sweatpants she wore were slightly baggy and ended at her calves. They were a light pink with the year 1988 on the side. On her feet were black flip-flops, with her red toenails looking dainty and feminine.
On top she wore a black T-shirt that hugged her chest just enough to give the definition of her shape. She wore no makeup and her hair hung in two braids on either side of her head.
Right now, despite how much his dick was leaping to attention at having her nearby, he wasn’t in the state of health to act on her current state of adorably sexy.
When she tugged on her wrist, he glanced up to look into her eyes. Her gaze was a mix of unease and awareness. Beneath his thumb he felt her pulse quicken.
“Your stove is on,” she murmured huskily. “I need to start breakfast. Unless you want your pan to catch fire.”
His lips twitched and he gave a reluctant smile. “That would pretty much make my morning complete.” After releasing her hand, he lay back down on the bed and closed his eyes. He listened to her retreating footsteps and tried not to focus on the pounding in his head. There was no way he would fall back asleep. Not with the amount of pain in his head and the fact that the sun had been up for many hours.
Music drifted from the kitchen. Dave Matthews? She must’ve been playing it from her phone. The smell of bacon began to float through the house.
He let his eyes close and slowly felt his muscles begin to relax. He must’ve fallen back asleep, because the next thing he knew there was a hand gently squeezing his shoulder.
“Can you wake up and eat something?”
The soft question had his eyes snapping open. Kenzie sat on the edge of his bed, her concerned expression hovering over him.
Could he eat? He blinked and sat up slowly, waiting for his head to explode from the pounding. Except for just the hint of pain, it was gone.
“You made breakfast?”
“You’re going to want to put something in your stomach.” She stood up and grabbed the tray she must’ve set down on his dresser when she’d come in. “Something hot and a little greasy. You know, the perfect hangover food.”
He glanced down at the plate of food and his stomach growled. There was a breakfast sandwich of sorts with a fried egg, melted cheddar cheese and bacon, nestled between thick slices of white bread. Beside it were chunks of potato, clearly recently cut and fried. Then on the side, almost as a pretense at being healthy, there were a couple slices of oranges.
Damn but if it didn’t look like something you’d order at some underappreciated diner off a truck stop.
“This looks amazing,” he admitted. “Thank you.”
She blushed slightly and shrugged. “It’s the least I can do. How do you take your coffee?”
He picked up half the sandwich. “Lots of cream and sugar. Are you going to eat? Or let me guess, you had a smoothie before you came?”
Her laugh was warm and full of amusement. “No way. I have no understanding for people who can make anything liquid a meal. My breakfast is waiting in the kitchen. I’ll grab it in a minute.”
Breakfast in bed, he mused. When was the last time this had happened? Probably when he’d been sixteen and still living at home.
Despite how awesome the meal looked, he wasn’t quite sure he’d be able to get much of it down. Or if he did, keep it there. He took a bite of the sandwich and gave a moan of appreciation. The combination of fat and salt exploded in his mouth in a massive orgasm of flavor.
“You look as if you’re enjoying yourself a bit too much there.” Kenzie entered the room again, a steaming mug in one hand and her plate in another.
He swallowed the bite and reached for the coffee that she handed him. “Absolutely. This is amazing. Thank you.”
“Hangover food. Works every time.”
“I suppose so. It’s been a while since I’ve dealt with this kind of thing.”
Shame flashed across her face as she sat down on the end of his queen-size bed, and folded her legs under her bottom. She balanced her tray on her lap and stabbed a potato with a fork.
“So you’re not like half the guys I see coming into the pub. Not a heavy drinker?”
“I enjoy a good brandy or beer, but honestly, that’s about it. And even then, all in moderation.”
She nodded, chewing her food slowly. After a moment she sighed. “I’ve been drunk, but it’s not often. Brett, I’m sorry about yesterday. I had the home field advantage, so to speak. It takes a shite-ton of whisky to get me drunk, and I knew you’d assume otherwise.”
As much as he wanted to blame her, and she wanted to accept the blame, he couldn’t. Not now that his head had stopped pounding and his stomach had settled. Clarity was settling in and he knew he was just as much to blame.
“I know my limits, Kenzie. I got stupid and pushed past them.”
They shared a long glance, before she nodded and ducked her head, reaching for her sandwich.
“How did you figure out where I lived?”
She laughed softly. “Actually, it wasn’t hard. One of your sailors, who you must hang out with often, came in this morning for breakfast at the pub and I grilled him until he gave me your address.”
“Name or description. I’ll have to punish him.”
Her head snapped up, panic in her eyes. Then she laughed as she realized he was teasing.
“Such a bully,” she quipped and went back to eating.
She didn’t seem self-conscious about eating in front of him, as some women were, but was enjoying her breakfast with as much gusto as he was.
When they’d both finished she eased herself off his bed and grabbed his empty tray.
“Can I get you any more coffee?”
He gave a small shake of his head. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
After watching her attractive bottom disappear from his bedroom, he stretched out on the bed again, folding his arms above his head. Waiting on her next move.
*
Kenzie finished rinsing their plates and set them in the dishwasher.
Her heart was pounding and she wiped her hands on the nearby dish towel. What did she do now? Did she leave? She’d made him breakfast, given him medication. Basically nurtured him out of hangover hell. Her conscience was clean: she could say good-bye and get out.
But she didn’t really want to leave. She wasn’t really sure what she wanted, but she knew when she was with Brett she enjoyed herself. She was able to relax and enjoy a man’s company.
And that didn’t really happen anymore. Not outside of family, at least. It was a pretty big thing for her to trust a man who wasn’t a blood relative. For her to be alone with him in his house just didn’t happen.
This was rare for her. She found herself wanting things she hadn’t wanted in so long. Her body was awake and aware of a man. The possibilities. The potential for pleasure…
Glancing down at herself she bit back a groan. And she’d shown up in sweatpants.
Real attractive, Kenzie.
“Kenzie? You still here?”
His lazy drawl with that hint of a Southern accent had butterflies stirring in her belly.
“Aye. Just a moment.” She closed her eyes and willed herself not to be such an idiot, and then walked back toward his room.
His house was nice enough, and not too far from the one she shared with Delonna. It was clean, had several bedrooms and a nice kitchen. Probably a rental home, if she had to guess. A single man who moved frequently with the Navy, it certainly would make sense.
She stepped back into his bedroom and her breath caught. He was sprawled out on the bed, his arms folded on the pillow above his head. His chest was wide and defined, dark hairs sprinkled throughout.
He was so potently masculine right now, for a moment she had a brief stirring of panic as he said softly, “Come here.”
Her feet felt glued to the ground, and it wasn’t until he held out a hand that she forced herself to take the six or so steps to the bed.
His fingers laced through hers. “Thank you for breakfast. For coming over this morning.”
“You’re welcome.” She sat down on the edge of the mattress beside him, struggling with the urge to bolt.
He stroked her knuckles and a tremor raced through her.
“Lie down beside me, Kenzie,” he said softly. “I won’t touch you. I promise.”
They were only words, and lying down beside him opened her up for all kinds of trouble. But she trusted him. He wouldn’t touch her unless she asked him to.
He scooted over, leaving her enough room to climb on top of the blankets beside him. It should’ve been weird. Maybe even a bit terrifying. Brett was larger than Charles, and likely stronger. Deadlier if he needed to be, but when her head fell against the pillow and they continued to hold hands, she had no fear.
“You don’t work today?” he asked casually.
“Not ’til tonight.”
“But you were at the pub?”
“Aye. I was dropping off my roommate to go to work.” She smiled. “The pub is very nearly my home. My brothers are there quite often, and I’ve worked there since I was sixteen.”
“Brothers? How many do you have?”
“Three.”
“You’re the only girl?”
“Aye.”
“Spoiled rotten?”
She laughed, and some more of her nerves dissipated. “Oh, aye.”
They fell silent again. She held quite still, breathing in the scent of him and his room. The overall masculine presence of the room.
The heat gathering inside her swelled, spreading far and wide throughout her body. She was aware of every breath he drew in. Every little maddening stroke his thumb made over her knuckles.
Moisture gathered low between her legs and she bit her lip. He was the first man in many years that she could remember being able to arouse her. It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought about sex or had orgasms, but generally they were fantasy-induced and achieved alone in her room.
Now there was Brett, a very solid, tangible presence lying right next to her. Awakening her body to sensations she’d thought long dead. She wanted, she realized, more than anything to take advantage of that fact.
“Do you work later? What are your plans for the day?” he asked, his voice a bit more strained now.
Maybe he was aware of the mounting sexual tension between them.
“I have none. I don’t want to talk about work,” she admitted, almost on a whisper. She rolled onto her side and faced him.
“You don’t?” He adjusted his body as well, so they lay fully clothed facing each other. “What do you want…to talk about?”
“I don’t want to talk.” Oh God, she was being awfully bold right now, and it felt a bit liberating.
His gaze darkened. “What is it you want, Kenzie?”
She wanted to answer. Tried to answer, but her heart was beating so fast and the words were thick in her mouth. Her eyes must’ve conveyed what she wanted, because he drew in a deep shuddering breath that made his beautifully defined chest expand.
He moved slightly, so that he could cup her cheek in one hand and lower his lips to brush against hers.
She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, parting her lips to give him access to her mouth. He took it without hesitation. His mouth slanted across hers before his tongue plunged deep inside to tease and suck.
He tasted of coffee and bacon, and all sorts of wonderfully male goodness. His fingers on her cheek were exquisitely gentle, even as he plundered her mouth.
Her sex clenched as the heat exploded into a roaring inferno inside her. Need spread through her and an almost pained-sounding moan ripped from her.
Brett lifted his mouth from hers and kissed the corner of her mouth.
“What do you want, Kenzie?” he asked again softly.
She hesitated. As much as she wanted to step outside her comfort zone and beg for the whole deal, she wasn’t sure she could.
“I don’t know if I’m ready for sex, but I want to…” She trailed off, not sure how to say it. Her face burned with humiliation and she bit back a groan.
She felt like a bloody teenager leading on a boy. What the hell was she doing? Brett was a grown man, not some young bloke who’d be happy with only a hot make-out session.
“I mean, I could try,” she said awkwardly. “If you—”
“Relax, sugar.” He brushed a kiss across her mouth. “I understand, and I’m absolutely fine with taking things at your speed.”
He sat up slightly and pressed his palm against her shoulder, a gesture that encouraged her to lie on her back with her head on the pillow.
“You can tell me to stop at any point, okay?”
She gave a small nod, her heart beating double time now. His mouth found hers again, his tongue dipping lightly, as he slid his hand to the area between the waistband of her sweats and her T-shirt.
Each little light caress of his fingers on her naked skin sent hot desire coursing throughout her. He made no move to go further, just kept the kiss endless and his touch light and teasing. Only when her hips lifted instinctively and she groaned in frustration did he lift his mouth from hers.
She felt the fabric of her shirt being dragged up her stomach. The cool air caressed her bare skin before he shifted on the bed into a position that allowed his lips to brush over her belly.
Her breath caught and a tremble raced through her. Still he dragged her shirt up farther, until the fabric pulled up and over her breasts.
She heard his softly indrawn breath, before he kissed his way up her stomach. His large hand moved to cup a breast through the fabric and she bit her lip, wanting so much more. He answered her silent plea, pulling back the cup and baring her to him.
“God, you’re beautiful, sugar.”
Her nipple was already puckered and ready for him, and he wasted no time drawing it into his mouth.
Mindless pleasure took over and she moaned, sliding her fingers through his shaved hair as he suckled her. She knew then that if he wanted her—all of her—she wouldn’t stop him. Couldn’t stop him. Right now, the need inside her was the puppet and he the puppeteer.