Filthy Beautiful Lust by Kendall Ryan
Colton and I discuss the logistics of their trip, while Sophie peppers us with questions of her own. They've each been receiving the necessary vaccinations before their travel, and have their passports and travel visas ready. They'll be gone for three weeks. I'll miss seeing Sophie on the days she works with me.
"I wish you could come, Kylie," Sophie says. "Would your nanny stay with Max?"
I shrug. "She probably would if I asked her, but I don't think I could handle being separated from Max for so long." He is my heart.
She nods like she understands. But I don't think she truly does. She will when she's a mother.
Pace wanders over in bare feet, his white shirtsleeves are pushed up, showing off tan and muscular forearms sprinkled with light hair. He's dangling a bottle of beer from one hand and grinning at me.
"Where's your mini?" he asks, looking directly at me.
My belly tightens. "He's all partied-out."
"Excuse us," Colton says. "We've got to go say goodnight to Dad. He's still operating on the eastern time zone." He leads Sophie away and I'm, once again, alone with Pace. I'm not sure why I feel so out of my element when I'm near him. It's probably because I don't understand his motivations, I decide.
"Care to join me by the water?" he asks.
"Sure." He leads me toward the beach. And even though my brain is screaming at me to say no, my feet carry me down toward the water, following closely behind him.
Pace
I lead Kylie to a secluded spot on the beach. After seeing her with the little koala bear she's had attached to her hip or by her side all afternoon, it's like part of her is missing. There's something I don't like about it.
"This okay?" I ask, indicating a dry spot in the sand where the tall grasses shield some of the wind blowing in off the water.
"Fine," she says, lowering herself down. "The monitor should still work out here." Kylie crosses her legs and folds her hands in her lap.
I sink down beside her. The sand is warm and sugar soft. The gentle sounds of the low rolling waves and moonlight gleaming down on us make a romantic backdrop. If she were any other woman, I would have her down on her knees by now with my cock deep in her throat. To be honest, I'm a bit at a loss right now, unsure what to do or say next. It's an interesting change for me.
"Did you enjoy yourself tonight?" I ask.
"Max had fun, so that was good."
It wasn't what I'd asked her, but I let it go.
When she talks about her son, her eyes light up and her mouth curves into a silly grin. It's actually quite adorable. She's a far cry from the women in my past. For one, she's not all over me, and two, she's mostly quiet and contemplative as she looks out at the water. She feels no need to fill the silence with nonsense jabber. It's refreshing.
She's never fake, never tries to impress me, she's just comfortable in her own skin and that makes the man inside me take notice.
From the corner of my vision, I watch the breeze lift the stray pieces of hair that have escaped her ponytail. They flutter around her neck and cheeks while Kylie looks straight ahead, watching the waves. I'm certain she has no idea how beautiful she is with her minimal makeup and no-fuss style. I was noticing things I never took the time to notice before, like the delicate scent hanging around her, and how soft and smooth her skin looked.
When you fuck a woman in the bathroom of a nightclub, there's no reason to take her out again. Where's the chase? The mystery? I liked to get a little crazy now and then, but I still believed a woman should behave like a woman. Kylie is every bit poised and put together with a shit ton of mystery and enough depth to make me want to give chase.
In Los Angeles her modesty is refreshing. She would be the type of woman to age gracefully. No injections or fillers or skin pulled too tight around her eyes. She'd still be beautiful at sixty. I could see it now. Long silver hair, the same cheeky gleam in her green eyes, as she pushed up on her toes to kiss her grown son on the cheek.
"I should go. It's late, and…"
Hell, I can't let her walk away yet. "Max's asleep inside, right?"
She looks down at the baby monitor in her hands. "Yes, but…"
"You could stay for a little while longer, couldn’t you?"
She looks like she wants to say no, but then at the last minute, she surprises me. "I suppose so."
"I know you said you're not much of a drinker, but could I get you anything…water? Soda?"
"No, I'm fine. You didn't have to hang around us all night, Max and I, I mean," she says.
"I wanted to, Kylie."
She swallows and glances up at my eyes, trying to read if I'm feeding her a line. "Pace, I've worked for Colton for over a year now. He's told me a few stories about his younger brother. I know this isn’t you. You're not the guy who's looking to settle down with a single mom. You said so yourself at the gala."
"Then what kind of guy am I, Kylie?"
Her brilliant emerald gaze flashes on mine, looking dark and dangerous. "You're the guy who drops panties and breaks hearts and does it all with a sultry grin. I've heard the stories. They're a bit wild." She winks.
I'm going to fucking kill Colton. I don’t care that it's his engagement party. He's a dead man. Shit, I realize I can't do that to Sophie. I'll just have to come up with some type of plan B to make him pay.
"Unless you have some type of mommy dearest issue you need to explore?" she raises a brow.
Her joke is off color, but she doesn’t know it. "I lost my mother when I was nine."
"Oh, God, I didn't know. I'm so sorry." Her hands flies to her chest and stays there while she watches me.
"It's okay. You didn't know."
"I'm sorry. Colton never mentioned it." Her tone is tender and caring.
I shrug. I'm not surprised. "It's not something we like to discuss."
As we sit here together in the company of the endless blue ocean, I can't help but wonder if my interest in Kylie has anything to do with the fact that I do see her as a mother. Her softness, the love I see pouring out of her in every interaction with Max – maybe those are things that attract me to her. Her warmth, her devotion – they are all part of what makes her beautiful. It doesn’t take a psychiatrist to find the link here. But it isn't something I care to dwell on.
Beside me, Kylie cups handfuls of sand and lets them drift through her parted fingers like a sieve.
"Can I ask you something?" I ask.
She nods.
"What happened to Max's father?" It's something I've wondered about since the first time I met her, but I'm only brave enough to ask now, in the cover of night, and once she's already stumbled over the death of my mother.
She pauses her motions, letting the sand fall from her hands, then dusts them off. "Have you ever been in love, Pace?" she surprises me by asking.
"No."
"Never?"
"Nope." I'm hopeful that it'll happen someday, I just haven’t gotten there yet. I've been too busy building my career and sleeping my way through the LA singles scene.
"It's a scary thing – handing your heart over like that. Giving someone the very best pieces of yourself." Her eyes are far away and she remains staring out at the water as she speaks. "I met Max's father, Elan, when I first moved to Los Angeles a few years ago. He was quite a bit older than me, thirty-six at the time, already settled and successful. I didn't know anyone in the city, and he seemed like a safe choice. We dated for about six months, and even though we never talked about our future in the terms of marriage and children, I felt like we were building toward something real and long-lasting. We stayed together every weekend, at either his place or mine. And even though we were careful – I was on birth control at the time – somehow, I got pregnant. I guess they're serious with those fine print warnings about no birth control method being one-hundred percent effective. I just never thought anything like that would happen to me."
The urge to reach over and take her hand in mine is nearly overwhelming. I fist my hands in my l
"I was scared when I found out – mostly because it was so unexpected. I was just getting my career off the ground, and my relationship with Elan was still pretty new. I never thought I had to worry about being a single mom, though. I wasn’t scared to tell Elan. He'd never been anything other than loving and kind toward me." Kylie's tone tightens at the end, like she has something stuck in her throat.
I hate the direction this story is headed and I hate myself even more for asking and making her relive all these bitter memories. I want to kick myself in the balls for my curiosity.
"I called him over to the apartment I lived in at the time, I didn’t want to tell him over the phone. He came over, playful and curious about what it was that I wanted to say. But the moment the words, 'I'm pregnant' left my lips, all playfulness evaporated. His entire demeanor changed. The kind side of him disappeared and was replaced with a man who was suddenly all business. He wanted to know when, how and what I planned to do about it. It took me several moments to understand he wasn't using the word we. He was asking about what I planned to do. I was on my own from that point forward, it was just me and the little life growing inside of me. I felt sick and hollow. He had put this baby inside me and now he suddenly wanted nothing to do with us. It was a harrowing feeling."
Kylie's quiet for a moment and there's no way in hell I'm probing any further, but I can tell this story is far from over. And I have a feeling it's going to get even more heart-wrenching before it gets better.
"Elan stopped calling, he stopped responding to my texts and emails. He cut all ties. When I was about six months pregnant, I ran into him at the drug store one night. I had a massive craving for ice cream and ventured out in my maternity pajamas to pick some up. I still cringe thinking about what I must have looked like to him." She shudders and buries her face in her hands.
Picturing her with a firm, round belly, I see nothing she should feel ashamed about. She's a gorgeous woman – and while I'm not typically attracted to pregnant women, Kylie with a baby growing inside of her makes my mouth curl into a dopey grin.
"I saw him and some young blonde piece of arm candy," she continues. "They were buying condoms at the checkout counter. His eyes slid from mine down to my rounded belly and back up again. He made some comment to the sales clerk about using condoms, even when a woman claims to be on birth control. And then he was gone. I hated myself for trusting him with my heart. I hated myself for still missing him. But the most painful thing of all came a few weeks later. His assistant delivered a check for fifty grand and the note inside said that he didn’t want to be bothered with making weekly child support payments, and that I should use the money to start a college savings fund. Which, of course, I did – for Max's sake – even though I hated accepting that money from him. I've had no other contact with him," she finishes.
"What about when Max was born?" I can't understand a man who would just walk away from his woman and child – especially this woman. She is so strong and independent and stunningly beautiful.
"Nothing," she says. "When I went into labor, I called a cab, took myself to the hospital and had the baby."
"What about your family?" I ask. Surely she has someone to count on when she needs it.
She shrugs. "My parents divorced when I was little. I don't have much of a relationship with my dad and my mom is…well, she's always been more preoccupied with living her own life than participating in mine."
"What's Elan's last name?" I ask.
"Why?" she looks up to meet my eyes.
"I want to kick his fucking ass, that's why." My chest feels tight and my knuckles are itching to be busted over something – preferably his face.
"It's okay, Pace. I'm over Elan now. Completely. The only thing that still makes my heart hurt is knowing that one day I'll have to answer questions from Max about why his own father wanted nothing to do with him."
"I'm sorry I pried into all of this. I know it's none of my business." I feel like a grade-A asshole.
"It's okay," she says, digging her bare toes into the warm sand, her sandals long ago kicked aside. "It's taught me that I need to be better at picking men. A beautiful man with a smooth tongue who says all the right things doesn’t excite me anymore."
She's letting me inside, and I appreciate the glimpse at her inner thoughts. Turning to face her, I ask, "What does excite you?"
"A man who is kind to my child."
Her answer is so poised, so simple; I can tell she means it entirely.
I wonder if that's how she views me. I hope so. I genuinely enjoyed playing with Max today and I hope she doesn’t think I did it just to try and get into her panties. Which is what she probably expects, based on the stories she's heard from Colt. That shithead. My resolve to kick his ass is back again, full force.
"At the point I'm at, actions speak louder than words," she says. "I should probably go, I've said too much, I'm sure."
"Don't go. Not yet." I'm laying myself bare, so much more so than I ever do. My game is completely fucking shot, and I don't care.
"This isn't what my life is like, Pace. It's not all backyard barbecues where there are lots of helping hands, or fancy galas downtown."
"I get that, Kylie. You have responsibilities. I see that."
"It's hard work, Pace, and it's a twenty-four seven job. No sick days. No time off. And I know you'll say it doesn't matter – but it does. You're a Drake. I've seen the lives you guys lead. It's champagne and caviar and designer everything."
She has no way of knowing, but I'm not really like my brothers in that regard. I live in a simple two-bedroom condo, not a mansion on the beach like Colton and Collins each do. "A man gets tired of champagne and caviar after a while," I say, trying to make light of her jab.
"So you want to slum it for a while?"
"You are not slumming it. Max is not slumming it."
Her eyes flash on mine and I can tell that my words have touched something inside of her. "No, but we're not what you're used to."
"Maybe I'm tired of the same old–same old." I look her straight in the eyes as I say this, letting my meaning sink in.
She matches my serious gaze with one of her own. "And what about when you get tired of us? I can't have my son getting attached, only to have you disappear one day when you decide you're done playing house."
Damn. She's better at this verbal sparring than me, and I fucking hate it.
"I still want to take you to dinner," I say.
"I appreciate it, but I'm just not ready for anything like that." Kylie rises to her feet, and heads for the house. "Goodnight Pace."
Fuck.
We'd had a great night and just when we'd finally started to make some progress, she completely shot me down. I was tired of being told that I wasn't mature enough to handle the responsibility of dating a woman with a child. I wanted a fair chance. But as I watched her walk away, the defeated set to her shoulders, I realized she didn't want to be right about me. She just expected me to let her down.
"Kylie, wait up," I call, hopping to my feet and sprinting after her. I catch her on the patio where she's stuffing their things into a bag. Stray toys, a sippy cup and a baggie of cereal are all scattered at her feet. She lifts her chin and her eyes find mine. Confusion washes over her features. "Let me help you get Max to the car," I explain.
She doesn't respond. She just gazes up at me. But since she didn’t refuse, I reach down and take the bag from her, adding the stray items and zipping it up. "I got this."
She watches me with mild curiosity, her pretty green eyes wide, like she's taking it all in, trying to dissect what I'm doing when she just shot me down a mere thirty seconds ago. Hell, I don't even know. I'm just following my instincts. I'm not trying to impress her or play some game, and it's incredibly refreshing.
Kylie's quiet as we head into the house. I'm not sure where Max is sleeping, but she leads me into the den. It's dark and silent, except for the little breathy sounds comin
"May I?" I whisper.
She nods and takes the bag from me. I bend down and ever so gently lift the little guy from the floor. I bring him up to my chest, holding him close. He opens one eye, checking to see who's got him, and then drops his head to my shoulder, where it rests all the way to the car. His limp little body molds to mine, and I can feel his hot breath against my neck. Smiling, I give his back a gentle pat, careful not to wake him.
Kylie watches everything, then opens the door to the backseat and I place him in his car-seat while she leans over me and buckles him in. The scent of vanilla and delicate feminine skin wafts up to greet me. The scent awakens something in me. Perhaps it was watching her with her baby all afternoon, seeing her as a mother, and now experiencing the softness of her as a woman that stirs something in me. Compared to the one-dimensional women I usually date, it's a welcome reprieve.
Standing in the driveway with the moonlight pouring down on us, neither of us says a word. Kylie closes the car door and we both check through the window to see if the sound woke Max. It didn't.
"I could have gotten him," she says, turning to me.
"I know."
She watches me intently, as if trying to figure out my angle. It's the same look she gave me when I took Max from her earlier to show him the frog I had found in the garden.
"Drive safe," I tell her.
"I will." Without another word, she slips into the driver's seat.
I remain rooted in the driveway until she pulls away and I can no longer see her taillights. It hasn’t even been two minutes, and I'm already plotting out ways to see her again.
Inside I find Sophie stationed at the kitchen island, her mouth stuffed full of a bite of cake.