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Authors: Sienna Valentine

Kellan (6 page)

BOOK: Kellan
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~
EIGHT ~

Parker

 

 

What the hell was I thinking,
agreeing to go back to Kellan’s place? I felt so stupid, so embarrassed. He
probably thought I was one of those girls who put out right away. He probably
thought I was ready to fuck right here, right now in the backseat of this cab.

And wasn’t I?
Kellan had one hell of a monster cock. I hadn’t been able to stop staring at it
in the winner’s room. The way it had pulsed and swelled with the beat of his
heart had absolutely entranced me. Even through his shorts, I could see how big
and thick it was—certainly more than a mouthful. I’d given serious
consideration to pulling down his waistband and letting it free just to see how
big it really was. And then maybe I would have sat in his lap and slid down on
it just to see how much of it I could take…

Jesus,
get a hold of yourself. You’re doing this for a story, not for sex!

But the heat
gathering between my thighs told me that wasn’t entirely true.

I couldn’t help
it, okay? Kellan was so
hot.
Everything about him exuded sex, danger,
and pure, terrifying masculinity. Underneath all that, he seemed like a decent
guy, too. Nice, even. When he wasn’t going ape-shit about me showing up to his
fight with a guy.

Now
that
made me smile. Kellan had been jealous of Thom—actually jealous! So I wasn’t
imagining things, then. Kellan was into me. He
wanted
me. Which made the
decision to go back to his place both a great, and awfully stupid, one.

Just
keep it in your pants, Parker,
I told myself.
And
don’t get too drunk, either. You know how handsy you get when you drink…

I bit my lip and
stole a glance at Kellan beside me. Maybe that was what he was counting on.
Maybe this was all a clever ploy to get between my legs.

As
long as he tells you what you need to know, how is that a bad thing?

Maybe I could have
my cake and eat it, too.

We pulled up to
the curb outside his apartment building and Kellan paid the driver in cash for our
ride. Then he hurried out his side and opened the door for me, helping me out
even though I didn’t need it.

I couldn’t seem to
get a read on him. Not an accurate one, anyway. Kellan the soldier. Kellan the
fighter. Kellan the jealous type. But also, Kellan the gentleman. Kellan the
sweetheart with the boyish smile. He had more facets to him than a diamond, and
part of me was giddy as a schoolgirl at the opportunity to get to know each
one.

Readers
are going to love him,
I thought as we entered
the building and took the rickety elevator up to his floor.
Everybody likes
a mystery.

Kellan’s apartment
was shabby, to say the least, but clean—minus a few beer bottles sitting on his
counter. It was small, too. Whatever he earned through risking his life in the ring
couldn’t have been much, and I got the sense he was struggling to live within
his means. I didn’t see anything too fancy—he had a decent, but older-model, TV
and a laptop that looked like it came straight out of 2005—but other than that,
his place was pretty Spartan.

Which made me
wonder if Thom was right. Was Kellan getting screwed over by his manager
without even knowing it? Undoubtedly, Thom was looking into that, too. I hoped
he was okay. Thom struck me as more a lover than a fighter, and I had no idea
how an illegal fighting ring manager would react to someone asking questions
about the distribution of winnings.

Thom’s
smarter than that. He’ll figure it out.
And when he did, I’d share that information with Kellan. It was the least I
could do.

“Make yourself at
home,” Kellan said, and I realized I was still standing in his entryway like an
idiot. I kicked my shoes off near the door where Kellan had abandoned his and
shuffled over to the sofa, sinking into the deep, plush cushions that were
comfortable despite the creaking of their springs.

“You want a beer?”
he asked from the kitchen.

I nodded. “Sure.”
Then I grabbed the takeout menu on his coffee table. “If you want, we can order
something to eat. I’m buying.”

Kellan chuckled
and I heard him pop the tops of both beers. “Sounds fair.”

I busied myself
with the menu while Kellan sat down next to me, so close our thighs touched. He
set my beer down in front of me and I handed him the menu as I dialed the
number for a local Chinese place and gave them my order. Kellan held up two
fingers when I looked at him; apparently, he liked orange chicken, too.

While we waited, I
made Kellan watch an episode of
Orange is the New Black.
He humored me
up until we got to the part with the lesbian sex. Then he was actually
interested.

“Perv,” I muttered
around my beer bottle as I took a sip.

“Just one of the
many things there is to learn about me,” he replied with a grin, then jumped up
as the delivery driver knocked.

For the most part,
we ate in silence. We watched a few more episodes while we picked at our rice
and I let Kellan get comfortable before I started prodding him. I figured he
needed to unwind a little after that fight. I also got a bag of frozen peas
from his freezer and made him hold it to his ribs to take some of the swelling
down.

Finally, when his
eyes were getting a little hazy from the beer and he’d sprawled out beside me
on the sofa, I asked, “Why illegal fighting?”

Kellan laughed,
then winced and clutched at his ribs. “Boy, you sure don’t pull any punches,
huh?”

I smiled and
shrugged. “It’s the elephant in the room, isn’t it?” Mentally, I started taking
notes.

“Fair,” Kellan
said. Then he continued: “When I got back from Afghanistan, there weren’t a
whole lot of opportunities open to me. It’s weird, coming back from war and
having to learn to live as a civilian all over again. And lots of places aren’t
hiring, so if you didn’t have a job before you left, you’re kind of screwed.
Believe it or not, a lot of what you learn as a grunt in the military isn’t
really applicable to real life. Everyone wants a degree, even for the menial
shit. Basically, I had to go with what I knew best, which at that point, was
fucking people up.”

I laughed. I
didn’t mean to. It was awful, but Kellan was so casual about it all. And maybe
it was the beer. I was on my second one, despite what I’d told myself before
about going easy on the booze.

Luckily, Kellan
laughed too. He said, “Anyway, I got a gig as a bouncer. A couple of them,
actually. And that worked out for a little while, but the money wasn’t good,
and if you weren’t careful, you could really hurt someone. That’s frowned upon,
apparently. Even if they’re breaking a vodka bottle over your head, you’re
supposed to deescalate and defuse.” He shook his head. “I have a temper, I
guess, because that didn’t sit well with me, and it wasn’t long before I’d
earned a reputation as a wild card.”

“And that made it
hard for you to find work again,” I said, “even as a bouncer.”

Kellan nodded.
“Mmhm.” The way the word slipped so lazily from his throat made my toes curl.
It was like honey for my ears. “Things got pretty bad. I was either
overqualified or not qualified enough, it seemed. Fast food places didn’t want
to hire me because they were afraid of turnover, which I guess is fair, ‘cause
as soon as something better came up, I would’ve split. And offices and stuff
didn’t really have anything I could do. I tried construction, but didn’t make
it more than a month. Some loudmouth kept tryin’ to make me spill about all the
people I killed in the war, and one day I just punched him straight in the
mouth, and that was that.”

“A touchy subject,
I take it?”

“For most
soldiers, yeah. Some civilians feel like it must be some kind of badge of honor
to take a life. I think they play a little too much
Call of Duty,
to be
honest with you. And this guy just wouldn’t let up, you know? Finally got to
the point where he started talking shit about how maybe the reason I wouldn’t
say anything was because I was a coward. Maybe I’d been kicked out for pissing
my pants and that was how I ended up here.” Kellan sighed. “Sure, I was
hotheaded. But the guy had it comin’. If it hadn’t been me, it would’ve been
someone else eventually. You know?”

As vehemently as
he was justifying it, Kellan seemed ashamed of that story. I took another pull
from my beer and swished it around my mouth as I debated my next question.

“And things got
dire, after that?”

“You could say
that,” he answered. “Guy was going to press charges. I was going to lose my
apartment, maybe even my freedom for a little while. It was a real mess. I
stopped by a dive bar to drown my sorrows one night, and this guy sits down
next to me—Vic. Says I look like I could use another drink. At first, I’m
wondering what kind of bar, exactly, I stepped into, but then we get to
talking, and he says he noticed my dog tags and he might have an opportunity
for someone like me. It’s dangerous, but it pays well, and under the table too.
Uncle Sam wouldn’t have to know a thing about it. I figured I paid Uncle Sam
enough over the past few years, in money and blood, so taking something back
wouldn’t be so bad.”

The dog tags—I’d
noticed them, too, on the day we’d met. “Do you wear those everywhere?”

Kellan smiled.
“Almost. Some people, I tell them it’s about pride. I was a Marine, I fought
for my country, that kind of thing. That’s my go-to answer. It’s what they want
to hear.”

I cocked my head.
“But you don’t really feel that way?”

His smile faded.
“Sometimes.” Then he added, “It’s complicated.” And then, he switched it around
on me. “What about you? How’d you get to be a writer?”

I sat back,
wondering how much I could tell Kellan without lying. “It’s in my blood, I
think. Dad said Mom used to write all the time before she died. Poetry in college,
a few articles for her campus newspaper. Then fiction. She published a few
short stories in some literary magazines, and she was working on a novel while
she was pregnant with me. Never finished it, though.”

Kellan grinned. “I
take it you were a handful, even at that age?”

I shrugged.
“Maybe. That wasn’t it, though. Mom died after she gave birth to me. Placenta
previa gone wrong. She bled out. I could’ve died, too.”

“Jesus.” Kellan
sat forward, setting his empty beer down and running a hand through his hair.
“I’m so sorry, Parker. I didn’t mean to be an ass.”

I waved my hand.
“It’s okay. Really. You didn’t know, and that’s the point of this, isn’t it?
Getting to know each other?”

He looked into my
eyes for a long time. It seemed like he wanted to press me about it, to get me
to open up instead of the other way around. Mom was hard to talk about. I’d
never even gotten to know her, and I felt cheated. My dad was great and all,
but he wasn’t a writer. He’d never felt this compulsion, this drive. It would’ve
been nice to grow up with someone who got it. Who understood me. I’d never had
that. I wasn’t even sure I had it now.

As if sensing
this, Kellan got up and got us both another beer. He didn’t ask any more
questions about my mom, and I appreciated that but it also made me feel a
little bad about pumping him for information.

“Is that why you
want to get to know me?” he asked. “Am I gonna be a character in one of your
books, or something?”

I felt that warmth
between us return again. “Only if you’re interesting enough to be worth writing
about,” I said with a grin.

Kellan laughed.
“And so far?”

“So far, I’m
intrigued,” I answered. “But I need more before I’m able to properly judge.”

“I think I know
what you’re saying,” Kellan said, taking a long drink from his bottle. He set
it down and draped his arm over the back of the couch. “You’re saying you have
to get to know me
intimately
before you know whether or not I’m worth
the trouble.”

I had to give it
to him. That was a good one. I shot him a sideways glance and a smirk and was
just about to come back with something smarmy of my own when I felt Kellan’s
palm cupping the back of my head.

All my breath left
my body in the span of an instant. Kellan’s fingers were so gentle in my hair,
his touch so light, so tender. When he brushed them over my nape, I felt a
thrill tumble down my spine. I closed my eyes, savoring his touch.

Kellan began to
caress my shoulder, working his way toward the strap of my tank top. I let him
push it aside, let his fingers dance over my bra strap beneath it. Then,
slowly, he pulled that down over my shoulder and arm too, stroking the expanse
of flesh between my breasts and my collar bone.

“Intimately,” I
whispered. “How ‘intimately’ are we talking?”

“Pretty damn,”
Kellan answered, lightly pulling down my other strap. The tops of my breasts
were bared to him now, almost to my nipples. But instead of going for them,
Kellan touched my throat, my neck, my jaw, sending a plague of goosebumps over
me from my head to my toes. There was such reverence in his touch, like I was a
fragile idol that he was terrified of breaking. He handled me with such care.
It wasn’t what I’d been expecting.

BOOK: Kellan
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