I have never warmed to that man, instantly seeing through him. He loves the sound of his own voice and thinks the world revolves around him. I have seen the way he flirts with other women at events, and he is almost as bad as my father. He doesn’t hit his wife or his children, but that’s the only difference between him and Gregory Henley. In every other regard, they are two peas in a pod. I used to be surprised they didn’t get along until I realized it’s because they’re too alike and too competitive. Now that Dad is handling the account for the defense contractor Curtis works for and West’s dad is moving up the ranks, they are forced to spend more time together, on and off the golf course, and I bet the jabs are flying.
Loading the last plate into the dishwasher, I remove a tablet from the box under the sink and turn it on. Then I fill the sink with warm soapy water and get to scrubbing the pots. I need to keep my hands occupied so I don’t run upstairs and beat the shit out of that cheating prick.
My hatred for Curtis Hawthorne was instant and instinctive, for the reasons already mentioned. But it was more than that. The overriding thought in my head the first time I met him was “You have something belonging to me.” It’s as if some little voice was in my ear, chanting it over and over until it permanently lodged in my brain. It didn’t take much to convince me when I met her.
If my reaction to Curtis was strong, my reaction to Kendall is something I have never been able to adequately describe. It was more than a fleeting reaction, a crush, or insta-lust. It was like something clicked inside me. The darkness that lurked within me instantly retreated, blinded by the light and goodness exuding from her like liquid sunshine. It was as if all the jagged pieces of my heart finally slotted perfectly into place and the cracks began to knit together.
The second I laid eyes on her, an intense sense of relief washed over me, unlike anything I have ever felt before. But it went beyond that too. The emptiness that always existed inside me vanished, and I felt whole, complete, reborn, replenished. Like I do every time I’m in her company.
I’m still not articulating it correctly, but I don’t need words. Not when I have this connection to her. This bond that feels like it can never be broken, even if Kendall is still in denial.
I don’t care what anyone says.
I know what is true, and Kendall is mine.
“You didn’t have to do all that by yourself,” she says, entering the kitchen, immediately soothing the ragged edges of my frustration and rage.
“I needed to occupy my hands; otherwise, I would have found a better way to expend this restless energy,” I truthfully admit, placing the last washed pot on the drainer and pulling out the plug in the sink. I turn around to face her as I swipe the towel from the counter and dry my hands. I drill her with a pointed look so she understands exactly what I’m saying.
Her stunning blue eyes examine my face as she steps back, creating some distance between us. I have no clue where West and Stella are, but I hope they remain gone because I need to get a few things off my chest, and I’m done pussyfooting around our feelings.
I walked away three months ago, and it fucking killed me.
I’m not doing that again.
I am going to fight for her, and I’m not giving up until she’s all mine.
“West told you,” she whispers, as her cheeks stain red.
“Yes,” I say through gritted teeth. “But I’ve always known what kind of man your husband is.” I step closer to her, casting a quick glance toward the kitchen door to ensure no one is around. My heart races as I stare into her beautiful face. “Don’t do that. Don’t look ashamed. You haven’t done anything wrong. This is all on him, and he doesn’t deserve you.” Lifting my hand, I brush my fingers down her cheek, enjoying the feel of her silky-soft skin under my touch. “He has never been worthy of you.”
“What…what are you doing?” she whispers, tilting her chin up and peering into my eyes.
“You know what I want. I think I made that perfectly clear the night of my birthday.” My mind wanders to my eighteenth birthday party, and I recall the events of that night, like I’ve done so many times since.
I’m drunk, which would be an issue if we’d held my birthday party at the golf club like Dad wanted. But, for once, Mom stood her ground, and to both our surprise, Dad relented, permitting her to host the party at our house. I’m under no illusions. My parents aren’t throwing this party for me because, honestly, I couldn’t care less about celebrating my birthday. I’d have been happy hanging out with my friends at the carriage house. No, this isn’t about me. This is about keeping up appearances. Why else are all my parents’ friends and Dad’s golf buddies and coworkers here? This is just for show. It’s not like my parents actually give a shit about me as a person. To mom, I’m her caregiver. To dad, a possession to manipulate into doing his will.
Dumping the last of the whiskey into my glass, I knock it back, enjoying the burn as it glides down my throat. Gayle Turner slides onto the stool at the bar beside me, but I ignore her, like I’ve been doing all night. I don’t fuck around with the girls from my school, and everyone knows it, so she’s wasting her time.
Mom hired caterers to handle the party food, and they set up a fully stocked bar with staff to manage it. I don’t know how big of a bribe Dad paid to get them to turn a blind eye to all the underage drinking, but none of my friends have been asked for ID. As I sweep my gaze over the room, I see I’m not the only one who is drunk.
West has slipped out to one of the bedrooms with Hazel, so this is the first real opportunity I’ve had to watch Kendall. Even when I’m drunk, I know better than to watch his mom in his presence. West is the best friend I’ve ever had. We are as close as brothers, so I know he’d be shocked if he knew the intensity of my feelings for his mom. Lately, my dirty thoughts and wicked fantasies have gone into overdrive, and I don’t know how much longer I can hold back and not do something or say something.
I’m eighteen now. Legally an adult. So, technically there is no legal reason why we can’t be together. I find it laughable that I’m allowed to vote, have sex, and get married but not drink. What kind of moron devised that law?
“Want to get out of here?” Gayle asks, wrapping her bony hand around my lower arm and shoving her face into mine. Her dress is cut so low at the front I can practically see her nipples. It’s not, in any way, appealing to me.
I yank my arm from her grip and stand. “Not if you were the last woman on the planet,” I cruelly say, hoping that might drive the point home. All night, I have been politely declining her advances, but I’m done playing nice.
“You’re such an asshole.”
“Because I’m not interested in you?” I lean down with a dark glare. “News flash, honey. It’s my birthday. My house. My body. What I do on it, in it, and with it is my business. Leave me alone or get the fuck out.” It’s rude as fuck, but I’m past the point of caring. Without waiting for a reply, I stalk off in search of my prey.
I find her a few minutes later, talking to her neighbor Shirley and a petite redhead with big boobs. I’ve met her before. She works at Bentley Law too. June something or other. She’s in charge of marketing, and I know she’s Kendall’s best friend at the office.