Stripped Raw (8 page)

“You caught me.”

“Well, stop it.”

“Well, stop wiggling it in front of me.”

“I’m not wiggling it. It does that on its own.”

“Your ass has a mind of its own?”

“Yes! Now stop staring at it! Admire Mystic instead.”

I chuckle. “Is she yours?”

“No, she belongs to my stepdad. He loves riding as much as I do. Tessa and Sawyer never liked to ride. It’s the only thing Michael and I really have in common.”

“I used to ride,” I say. “My grandparents had horses, but I never had lessons or anything.”

“I’ll have to get you back in the saddle,” she says flirtatiously and takes my hand.

“Sorry I’m so late.” I’ve been saying that for years. It’s something I used to tell Lily all the time, and I hate that I’m saying it now. I’ve got to treat this relationship differently.

“I’m just glad you came,” Kenzie says.

“I won’t be late again,” I say and wrap my arms around her waist.

She gently pushes me off. “No, I smell like horse.”

I pull her back. This girl is an expert at putting herself down. “If I have to wait until you think you look and smell perfect, I’ll be waiting forever.”

“That’s not true!” she says and pouts her lip.

“Really? You were self-conscious the day we met because you had on workout clothes.”

“You were in an expensive suit!”

“You were fidgeting in your apartment the other night because you were in your pajamas.”

“You were trying to take my clothes off!”

“You didn’t think you were dressed for my office.”

“I wasn’t!”

“And now you smell like horse.”

“It’s only because you. . . .”

I step closer. “Yes?”

“Because you have those eyes that are so beautiful.” She runs her fingers down my face, a slight stubble on my chin. “And that thick dark hair. And your arms make me feel so safe, and you’re built like a damn model.”

I bust out laughing. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“See? It’s weird to be complimented, isn’t it?”

“It’s not that,” I say. “It’s just that you are so far out of my league. You have no idea.” She rolls her eyes. “Okay, that’s it. We’re going back to your place. You can do your hair and makeup and put on whatever makes you feel good about yourself. Then we’ll go to dinner.”

*

Maybe this wasn’t
such a good idea. I’ve been waiting an hour for her, just leaning over her table and flipping through her sketches. An hour isn’t really too long for a woman to spend getting ready, considering how long Lily used to take. It was hours and hours. It drove me nuts.

The hair dryer turned off at least ten minutes ago; maybe I should check on Kenzie. She’s so damn beautiful, what could possibly take so long? I walk to her apartment in the back. Leaning against the doorframe, I can see straight into her little bathroom. She runs her fingers through her long hair then reaches into her medicine cabinet for a little round pack of pills. I shouldn’t be spying, and I know birth control pills don’t mean we’re having sex tonight, but a man can hope.

She leans in a little closer, her black dress coming up just enough to tease the shit out of me. What’s she wearing underneath? Thong? G-string? Hipsters? Bikinis? Boy shorts? Two days dating a lingerie designer, and I’ve already got the lingo down. She turns around and catches me staring, and I meet her at the bathroom door.

“I just need to put a little makeup on,” she says.

One long, slow look up and down her body makes her normally pale skin flush. Fucking love that! “You look beautiful,” I say and pull her close. “And you smell good, too.”

She exhales and thanks me, looking like the weight of the world just lifted. Reaching for her lipstick she asks, “So where are we going?”

But I don’t respond. Instead, I take her hand and head towards the door. “Wait, I’m not ready.”

“You don’t need any of that stuff.”

She lets go of my hand, grabbing her makeup bag. “Just a little lipstick.”

I stop her hand. “No cosmetic company can make a shade better than your natural color,” I say.

“You are impossible,” she says, smiling.

I run my thumb across her full bottom lip, my eyes following the path I made. “Your lips are this perfect sort of candy red, like you’ve just eaten a strawberry.” I bend down and gently kiss her.

Her eyes land on my lips as I pull back. I can see her heartbeat through her dress, feel her legs weaken next to me, and she blushes. That’s one of the most addictive things about her. As soon as I touch her, her skin heats and her breathing changes. She’s very easy to read. Most people are; it just requires you pay a little more attention.

I gently run my fingers down the curve of her face, and her eyes close at my touch. It would be so easy to get lost in this feeling, to get lost in her. I pull her closer, and her eyes flash open, no doubt feeling my rock hard dick poking her. “I love how your eyes are layered with browns and golds.”

Running my fingers along her arms, I feel my heart thumping wildly in my chest. And a part of me feels surprised—that I’m feeling this way again, at a tipping point in my life, at a time when I least expected it.

I turn her to face the mirror and rest my cheek next to hers. I hold her eyes in the mirror. “It’s
you
I want—the real you.”

KENZIE

Since Tessa and
I first met, Sunday’s been our day together. We call it “Sister Sunday.” Even when we were in college or I was off in Europe, we’d spend Sundays on the phone or talking on Skype. Nothing got in the way—not work, not housecleaning, not boys. That’s still true.

The fact that I’ve been seeing Kane for a few weeks doesn’t matter, and the fact that Tessa’s sick doesn’t matter, either. Sunday is my day with my stepsister. We do whatever Tessa is up for, which usually isn’t much, maybe just lunch and some gossiping. But today Tessa’s in a strangely happy mood and insists we go shopping.

“We’re celebrating,” Tessa says, reaching to open the department store door.

I take hold of the door. “Good news from the doctor?”

“No, your new boy toy! You need some new clothes for all the hot dates!”

“I was hoping we were shopping for you,” I groan. “You know I hate shopping for me.”

“I’ve never understood that,” Tessa says. “You’re a designer. You can’t hate shopping!”

“Things just don’t fit right. Can we at least shop for shoes?”

“Clothes first,” Tessa says. “Then we can check out some Frye boots. I’ll buy you a pair.”

“Tessa, you don’t have to do that. They’re like five hundred bucks!”

“I’m buying them for my baby sis.”

“They’re way too much!” I cry, but Tessa ignores me and picks up a pair of designer jeans. “No jeans. That’s the worst. By the way, who’s got Zoe?”

“At the park with Dad,” she says, grabbing a few more pair. “So give me some juice on Kane.”

I feel my cheeks flush as I give her the scoop on the past few weeks. It’s way too early to be feeling so much for Kane, way too soon for my heart to be committed. But I can’t seem to help it. No man’s ever talked to me the way he does. No man’s ever looked at me the way he does. And I am sure no man has ever really loved the
real me—
the flawed, big assed, grumpy in the morning, shoe obsessed, bad sense of direction—
me
.

But for some reason, Kane seems to like all of it—or at least he isn’t scared away. There’s something to be said for that. Still, he’s a guy, and I’ve been burned by them lots of times. I keep blabbing while we head down a long hallway and take a big dressing room at the end, stepping inside together.

“You should see your face right now,” Tessa says. “You look worse than when the doctor told me I had cancer.”

“I do not.”

“You look scared out of your mind. That’s not like you, Kenz. You’ve never been afraid of anything.”

“I guess I just don’t want to start counting on Kane,” I say.

“You don’t have to
count
on him right now. Just be open to whatever may happen.”

I know Tessa is right. I know Kane is a good guy who deserves the benefit of the doubt. He might be a keeper, if I can just get out of my own way. “I’m just conflicted. I really like him, but so many. . . .”

“Don’t lump him in with the rest.”

I exhale and slip on the first pair of jeans, zipping them up and fixing the button before eyeing myself in the mirror. I die a little inside every time I try on jeans.

“Those jeans look great,” Tessa says. “They fit perfectly.”

“Except the waist.”

“Must be terrible to have a tiny waist.”

“It is when you have a big ass! These are like every other pair of jeans. If they fit my booty and thighs, they’re too big in the waist.”

“That’s what you call ‘big booty girl problems,’” she says.

“
Big booty girl problems
?” I laugh then try on a shirt Tessa picked out. “Speaking of problems, I’m going to check in again with that specialist in Chicago tomorrow.”

Her frustration is written all over her face. “What did the specialist tell you last time?”

“He doesn’t think he can help, but I know I can get him to change his mind. And if he keeps blowing me off, there’s always that clinical trial in Houston where. . . .”

“Didn’t they tell you I’m not a candidate?”

“Yeah, but we could go to Switzer. . . .”

“Kenzie, I don’t want to spend what time I have left chasing down dead ends, toting Zoe here and there and everywhere—all across the globe.”

“Okay, no Europe, but I’m still going to keep trying. I actually just read this article that. . . .”

Tessa covers her ears. “We’re not talking about this anymore! I’m pulling big sister rank here! And we are talking about you and Kane. You have to stop thinking every man is going to leave you.”

“They all do.”

“Until the one that doesn’t,” Tessa says. “Don’t be so scared of losing him that you miss out on loving him.”

“But what if I let myself love him with everything I have and he still leaves?”

“Loving someone is never wrong,” Tessa says. “One of the most beautiful parts of loving someone is how it changes you—not how it changes them.”

*

Zoe laughs as
I frantically wave my hands in front of my face. She apparently thinks it’s funny I’m about to die in the process of changing her. For such a tiny little girl, Zoe poops like a champ. I fasten the diaper, lift her up, then kiss her belly. “Kane’s coming over,” I tell her, and she lets out a loud squeal.

Kane doesn’t know yet, but I have to watch Zoe tonight. Our plan for the evening, to order takeout while I catch up on some work, which wasn’t an ideal date to begin with, just got significantly worse. I hope he’s alright with the change. He’s always good with Zoe, but he’s going out of town in a few days, and the last thing he may want to do is help me watch her tonight. We need to have a serious conversation. I know it’s time. If our relationship is going to go any further, he has to know what’s coming. It’s only fair.

But first things first. I need to get Zoe fed before Kane comes over, so I put her in her playpen and turn on some music. “Okay, what are we eating?” I ask her then notice my yoga pants and t-shirt. In addition to getting her some food, I need to change and possibly do something with my hair, which seems to live in a ponytail or messy bun. I’m the poster girl for a hot mess these days.

Zoe is starting to pout. She doesn’t like being put down. Tessa hardly ever puts Zoe down, so she tends to fuss when not being held. The crocodile tears are coming. I know I’m not going to get anything done if Zoe is freaking out, so I make a quick decision and do what any good aunt would do.

I start moving to the music, waving my arms and shaking my hips, doing my best “Dougie” and “Stanky Legg,” playing it up for Zoe. She gurgles and laughs with me—or maybe at me. I’m not sure which and don’t really care. My charms are working. Zoe moves her eyes away from me and lets out another smile, even bigger this time.

I follow her eyes and see Kane staring at me from the doorway, a slow smile forming on his lips. Another day, another time, I might’ve melted in embarrassment because the truth is, I’m a terrible dancer. But I don’t care tonight. I kick it up a notch and go into “The Whip” and “Nae Nae.” Kane busts out laughing, no doubt used to me acting like a fool by now.