Caressa's Knees (26 page)

But he would. He did. He took her wrists in his fingers and squeezed them until she whimpered, and then he rolled on top of her and pinned her down with his cock. That, at least, he could do.

She moaned and tried to reach for him, and in the end he let her wrap her arms around him and leave bleeding scratches on his back. A short rest, not even twenty minutes, and he was inside her again, seeking her heat and the wildness that entranced him.

He grew rougher, pulling her tangled hair as he forced her up on top of him. They traded slaps as he sought to pin her wrists again and she fought to stay free of him, all the while riding furiously on his cock. After she came in a rolling, bucking movement, he grasped her breasts and tumbled her over, falling on top of her so her breath left her in a rush. He had a thousand things to say to her, and yet nothing to say to her, so he just fucked her until he emptied himself with a shuddering
groan
. She was crying when he looked at her, silent rivers of tears.

“Don’t. Please don’t cry, Cara. I can’t stand this.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to.”

“No, I’m just
sorry
,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m this way. I really love you. I just… I just…”

The words were like skewers.
I just… I just…
“
It’s
okay, Caressa,” he said, shushing her with a kiss. He brushed her hair back from her face and gently stroked the breast he’d squeezed earlier. “Don’t worry about it right now. Just know I love you too, okay? And I’m here for you, wherever things end up.”

She nodded, sniffling. He pulled her closer, savoring the deeply-missed moments of her surrender. “It’s your birthday, sweet pea,” he whispered against her ear.
“Happy twenty-one.”

He went out later while she was practicing to buy a present for her. The one he’d gotten her wouldn’t work anymore. The one he was planning to get her probably wouldn’t go over too well either, but he found it anyway at a kiosk outside a Metro station. He bought a silver bag and tissue paper to wrap it in. By the time he got back it was almost time for an early dinner before the concert.

Jeremy called him and they made plans to meet backstage afterward and then travel back to the hotel for
Caressa’s
party. Kyle was strangely nervous about seeing Jeremy again, and not just because Nell would be with him. It had been about a year since Jeremy had shaken him out of bed and made him get his shit together. Unfortunately, aside from maintaining staunch sobriety, Kyle wasn’t sure he’d done much to better himself.

Backstage in the dressing room, Caressa looked lovely in the ivory gown she’d first worn in Cincinnati. It still took his breath away. Her hair was down, a wild mass of brunette curls like a
mane
, and her lips were painted a dark crimson. She looked a thousand years
old,
and yet a little girl.
Twenty-one, such a young age.
Denise was putting on a diamond pendant necklace she’d bought Caressa for her birthday—with
Caressa’s
own money. Kyle couldn’t judge though. Caressa was still paying him too, for all he did—and didn’t—do for her. He wasn’t sure anymore if it was a fair arrangement.

Caressa paced a little, but mostly she stood still and looked beautiful. He told her so, in as equivocal a voice as he could.
You look beautiful, Caressa.
Meanwhile, he added in his mind,
I loved fucking you today. Why won't you look at me like you did at Burger's Pond? What happened?
But no answers were forthcoming from that pretty-doll face.

Kyle watched from the wings as she took to the stage and mesmerized yet another audience.
Paris at her feet.
Tomorrow he’d take her to the top of the Eiffel Tower and let her look out at the city she’d charmed. Lit up at night, it would almost be like the fireflies.

There had to be a way for them. There had to be a way to win her over. He peered out at the spellbound audience, and saw Jeremy and Nell in the second row. Good tickets. At least he could still do something right. They were watching Caressa with the same expression as everyone else, with awestruck, rapt attention. When Caressa played it was so hard to look away. He knew. By now, he knew every note of these concerts by heart.

Afterward he stayed backstage to look after her cello. The conductor drew him into a conversation, enthusing about
Caressa’s
performance in rat-a-tat broken English. By the time Kyle arrived at the backstage lounge, Jeremy and Nell were already there with several members of the orchestra. Jeremy was deep in conversation with Caressa back in a corner.

Kyle couldn’t see
Caressa’s
face, but Jeremy seemed delighted by her. He still looked the same.
Broad shoulders, short blond hair.
Those mesmerizing eyes.
Kyle stuffed down jealousy and simply enjoyed the sight of the two most talented people he knew making one another’s acquaintance.

Then Kyle felt a tentative hand on his elbow and turned to find
himself
face-to-face with Nell. She was wearing a Grecian-style pale green gown and a spectacular emerald necklace. She looked as fresh and angelic as ever, even after the things he’d done to her, the things Jeremy had done to her in darker days. He pushed those thoughts away also.

“Hi, Kyle,” she said with a genuinely warm smile.

“Hi, Nell.”
He lifted his hands, at a loss for words for a moment. “You look amazing.
Happy.
I’m so glad.”

“You look good too. The concert was wonderful. Thanks for getting us tickets.”

“You’re most welcome.” In the tense silence, they both swung and looked at Jeremy, still chattering away with Caressa. Kyle chuckled softly. “You know what’s really funny? She has no idea who’s talking to her. No idea how famous he is.”

“I think that’s why he’s enjoying her so much,” Nell said, laughing. “Look at him. What do you think they’re talking about?
You, maybe.
Jeremy told me you two were…”

Something in his face must have made her stop. He shrugged and forced a half-smile. “We’re trying to work things out. She’s been really stressed with the tour and everything. You know how it is. But yeah…” He nodded,
then
shrugged again. “I don’t know.”

Nell’s luminous green eyes searched his face.
“Oh, Kyle.”

He didn’t reply, didn’t need to. They used to fight and battle. Jesus, how he’d hated her and loved her, but in the end, they had this.
Understanding.
She took his hand down at his side, squeezed it very gently. “Everything will work out. Things have to work out for you. Otherwise the universe makes no sense. Does she love you too?”

“I think so. At least I’ve got that going for me this time.” He mentally kicked himself for that indirect jab. He looked back at Nell, squeezing her hand harder and then pulling his away. “I’ll always love you, you know. Just because of all we went through. But I know you were never meant for me. I just hope… I always hope that you’re happy, wherever you are with him.”

“I’m so happy, Kyle. And I hate to see you hurting, but at least it’s not over me anymore.” She was teasing him, now, while his heart was laid bare to her.

“You always had a nasty streak, you know.”

“I fully admit that.” She gazed in Caressa and Jeremy’s direction. “She’s looking over here at you, Kyle. And it’s a really nice look. Come on, introduce me to her.”

They met Jeremy and Caressa in the center of the room. Jeremy hugged him, clapping him on the back, and then pulled away to straighten Kyle’s tie. “Looking pretty snazzy and important, young man.”

“I try. I’ll never live up to you,” Kyle answered with a smirk, giving Jeremy’s bespoke tux the once-over.

They fell into easy conversation, as if it hadn’t been a year since they’d seen each other. Caressa listened, and Kyle could tell when understanding dawned from the assessing look she turned on Nell beside her.

Yes. She was the one. But she can’t compete with you.

* * * * *

“So he was your old boss? He’s the big movie star guy?”

Caressa really wanted to ask about the other one, Nell, but she couldn’t bring her voice to frame the question without sounding jealous or insane.

Kyle looked over at her in the darkness of the hired car. “I can’t believe you’ve never seen any of his movies. Yes, he’s a big star.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that’s who he was? He just said he was some friend of yours.”

“He is a friend of mine.”

Caressa crossed her arms over her chest. Denise was sitting on the other side of her, staring out the window.

“Have you seen his movies, Aunt Denise?”

“Some of them, yes.
A little violent for my tastes.”

Violent?
Probably not as violent as what I feel like doing to that chick Nell.
She and Jeremy were coming to the party later with their baby.
Awesome.
Her twenty-first birthday was going to get overshadowed by a movie star, the woman Kyle was obsessed with, and their cute-as-a-button baby, no doubt. As soon as she got there, Caressa was going to start swilling champagne for all she was worth.

Damn him.
Since Spur, it had been impossible for her to keep her mind on her work. It had been difficult all along, but now it was just…torture. But she knew the price of being with him,
really
being with him, and the price wasn’t something she could afford. She hated that he still stayed with her, but she couldn’t find the strength to send him away.
But perhaps now…

She wanted to scratch the redhead’s eyes out. And then Kyle’s when she was finished. She’d seen the way they’d talked together when they thought she wasn’t looking, the way they looked at each other like they shared some special secret.

“You okay?” Kyle asked, taking her hand on the seat and squeezing it. “What did you think of Jeremy? What were you guys talking about?”

“Where to get pizza in Paris.
We were talking about food and how bad we were at speaking French. He said the concert was good.”

“It was. How did you think it went?”

She shrugged. “Okay.”
I’m still going to get wasted at this damn party.

Kyle and Aunt Denise had invited all one hundred and fifty of the members and administrators of the
Orchestre
de Paris, and the hotel reception room was already filling with tuxedos and black concert gowns. True to Kyle’s word there were tables of pastries, pâté, French bread and wine, and a large American-style birthday cake in the shape of a cello. Nice touch.

Caressa grabbed some champagne from a table and lingered around the pastry table for a while, fielding birthday wishes and polite compliments. Her face was starting to hurt from smiling by the time they cut the cake and sang Happy Birthday in English and French. Through all this she followed Kyle around with her gaze whenever he wasn’t hovering over her. He spent some time cuddling the Gray’s baby girl, who was disgustingly cute.

“Are you enjoying the party, Caressa?”

Caressa spun around mid-stare to find her aunt beside her. She was looking a little flushed from drink as she took
Caressa’s
arm and gave her an awkward hug.

“It’s wonderful. Thanks for setting it all up.”

“Kyle did most of it.
A party in Paris for my little girl.
I’m so proud of you, you know.”

Aunt Denise held her tighter and Caressa felt a sudden tickling in her throat, like she might just start crying.
Like a dam was about to burst.
“I’ll remember this forever, Aunt Denise. I wouldn’t have wanted to spend my birthday any other way.”

“Do you mean that?” her aunt asked. Caressa wanted to get away, to find a private place to hide, but her aunt was still looking at her with those bleary, half-drunk eyes. “Tell me something, Caressa. Be honest. You do enjoy this, don’t you? You’re not doing this for me?
Or for…for your mom and dad?”

Oh God.
“No, Aunt Denise.
Of course not.
Has Kyle been psychoanalyzing you too? Jesus.” But as she said it she suddenly wondered just who she
was
doing it for. Like a lightning flash at the top of a thirty-five story building, the question flashed and burned in her mind. Why did she really do this?
For attention?
For approval?
She put down her empty champagne glass and picked up another as Kyle slid a look at her from across the room.
Yes, I'm getting plastered. Deal with it.

“Denise, I have to pee,” she muttered, taking off across the room. Kyle cut her off by the door.

“How much are you drinking?”

“It’s my party. I’ll drink as much as I want. All I have to do is stumble upstairs later. I have to pee,” she said, pulling away. He let her go and she ran into the bathroom with her champagne glass still in hand.

She ditched it on the sink and hid in a stall, pulling her voluminous skirts up around her waist and trying not to fall off balance as she yanked down her panties. She needed an assistant skirt holder, she thought to herself. She banged out of the stall and reclaimed her champagne, smiling wide at the woman who’d just come in. Caressa couldn’t place her in the orchestra.
Tympani maybe?
Drums?
Maybe she should become a drummer. Beat on drums and dance around. It had to be easy to do that right.