Living in Sin (Living In…) (8 page)

Chapter Eight

Kahu arranged the roses he’d brought—half a dozen, long-stemmed, red—on the ground before the black granite headstone. Then he stepped back and stood there for a moment, staring at Anita’s grave.

In memory of Anita Howard. Always loved.

She’d had no one in the end. No family. Her friends all having left her after she’d gotten sick and at her own request.

He’d been the one who’d given those words to the masons who’d made her headstone. And he’d been the one who’d tidied up her affairs after she’d gone. Who’d visited her every Thursday for the past five years, reading to her from a book she’d long since ceased to understand.

And in the end, when she’d died, it was her husband she’d wanted to be buried beside. Her long dead husband, the love of her life.

Not you, in other words.

That wasn’t anything he didn’t know. He was her project, her pet and he’d understood that right from the start. Their relationship was a transaction: he gave her sex, she gave him everything else.

Except of course the thing he’d wanted most—her love.

Because the sad fact was that even though he’d known exactly what he was getting himself into when he’d first accepted her invitation to come home with her, even though she’d told him straight up what their relationship was all about, he’d fallen in love with her anyway.

He pulled the black captain’s coat he wore more tightly around him, turning the collar up as the wind whipped across the tiny Auckland cemetery. Then he clasped his hands in front of him. He didn’t think much of God, but he believed in the comforting power of words so he whispered a prayer in Maori his mother had taught him years ago—his customary greeting to Anita—then stood there for a while wondering what else to say.

Thursdays was Anita-visiting day and normally, he didn’t have any problem with thinking of things to tell her about. A précis of his week. A rundown of how the club was going. Sometimes a retelling of his latest sexual conquest, which she’d always enjoyed in life. Except he didn’t have any recent sexual conquests.

You fucking liar.

His jaw tightened. The sun came out from behind a cloud, picking up the quartz sparkles in the granite headstone.

Of course he had a recent conquest. Or rather, he was the one who’d been conquered. By a fucking twenty-year-old ballet dancer in pink pointe shoes.

The anger that had been there since Monday night, flared once more into life.

He could see her in his head, lithe body sheened in sweat as she’d danced around the room for him. Light, graceful. Beautiful. She’d made him burn, made him ache and he’d been so damn furious with her for it.

He’d tried at least to get some of the power back by making her experience that same burn, that same ache. But then she’d rendered him helpless by doing everything he’d told her to.

Christ, he’d been so hard looking at her, the vicious desire tightening at the sight of her spread thighs, her fingers at her pussy, her face flushed, eyes dark with passion. Watching him.

How he’d managed to stay in control enough not to pull her from that chair, push her onto the floor and bury himself inside of her, he’d never know. That he’d been unable to keep from touching her at all was pretty fucking bad enough.

Those long, pale fingers had tasted of salt, with a tart sweetness that hit him like a punch to the gut. Making his mouth water for more. He’d so very nearly put his own hand between her thighs, touched that slick pink flesh for himself. But he’d remembered his promise at the last moment. Remembered he wasn’t supposed to be touching.

Remembered that she was someone he wasn’t supposed to want.

His hands tightened around each other, an involuntary movement.

Maybe she hadn’t meant to manipulate him with sex to get what she wanted, but it sure fucking felt like it.

Like Anita, right?

No, it had been different with Anita. She’d always been straight-up. She’d always given him choices. But Lily hadn’t. She’d wanted a victory, wanted to seduce him regardless of his feelings on the subject.

She’d forced him into a situation where he’d broken his no-touching promise.

Hey, no one forced you to tell her to touch herself. No one made you put her fingers in your mouth.

Kahu growled. All that was true and blaming Lily for his own weakness was unfair. But that didn’t make him feel any less manipulated. Or less angry.

Or less hot for her than he already was.

After he’d left her sitting in the study, he’d gone straight upstairs and relieved himself of the hard-on that had been driving him mad, jerking off with Lily’s taste in his mouth and visions of her naked body in his head. First time he’d done it in months and it had to be to images of the one woman he shouldn’t be having these thoughts about.

In fact, even thinking about it now was making him hard all over again.

Angry, Kahu turned from the grave, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his coat. One thing was certain; he was going to do exactly what Connor had advised and that was to steer clear of temptation. No more Mondays. And as to sex, he’d see if he could get his head back in the game with a trawl around the club. Or maybe dusting off his languishing address book.

He was on his way back to the carpark when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Pausing, he hauled it out and checked the screen then hit answer. “Hey, Rob. What’s up?”

“I’ve been thinking, Kahu,” the older man said. “I want to discuss the club a bit more with you. Your plans for selling it especially.”

He stifled the sigh. “Sure. When?”

“How about tonight? You could come round here for dinner. In fact, let’s do that. You haven’t been for dinner here in years.”

It had been a while. These days they met in the club or in restaurants downtown and Kahu had never questioned why Rob had stopped inviting him back to his place. He’d assumed…well, he’d never assumed anything in actual fact. After all, it hadn’t mattered to him where they went to discuss business.

Now, though… Was Lily still living with him or did she have her own place somewhere else? Christ, he didn’t even know that much.

“I could do,” he said noncommittally. “But if you’d rather—”

“I would rather you come to dinner,” Rob cut him off with certainty. “Be nice to have you over. Lily won’t mind. You know how she keeps to herself.”

How completely fucking wonderful. So Lily did live with her father.

Kahu closed his eyes and toyed briefly with the idea of finding a handy excuse not to go. Which was just insane. What the hell was wrong with him that he was trying to avoid a twenty-year-old? What was he afraid of? She wasn’t likely to be doing any naked dancing again with her father around, and he wasn’t likely to be pulling her to the ground and ravaging her like an animal.

There was no reason on earth to say no.

“In that case,” he said, opening his eyes again, the winter sun shining thin and cold on his face. “I’d love to come.”

Lily paused at the top of the stairs, her hand resting on the banister as voices floated up from the hallway down below. Her father’s light baritone and then another, deeper voice. A darker, huskier, more sensual sound.

She swallowed, her heartbeat beginning to race.

Kahu.

Her father had mentioned that afternoon when he’d gotten home from work that Kahu Winter would be joining them for dinner. Before she’d gotten sick, he used to like her to be at the dinner table too, but these days he didn’t much care what she did. Join them or not, it was up to her.

She didn’t want to join them. In fact, she would be quite happy never to see Kahu Winter’s handsome face ever again.

The voices faded, going toward the lounge area and Lily let out a soft breath. Then she turned and walked back along the hallway to her bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind her before crossing to the bed and sitting down.

She clenched her fists and then relaxed them a couple of times, a calming technique she’d often used before a performance.

God, she couldn’t sit up here all evening in her bedroom, not when she’d spent all afternoon stressing about what was going to happen when he actually arrived. Whether she’d wave casually at him and pretend nothing was wrong, or whether she’d try and get him alone and explain herself. Staying upstairs and avoiding him entirely was very, very attractive.

Coward. You’re a fucking coward.

She splayed out her fingers on her knees, her skin pale against the faded blue denim, and all she could think about was the heat of his mouth on her skin, his tongue licking her, his scent around her, his dark eyes on hers. So furious with her.

I don’t like being manipulated.

She hadn’t intended to. Hadn’t even thought that’s what she’d been doing. He’d said “seduce me” and so that’s what she’d tried to do. And okay, so it had all been about her own pride and her hatred of losing, of failing, but she hadn’t wanted to do anything more than get an acknowledgement out of him.

Are you sure? You didn’t take your clothes off to get an acknowledgement, cretin. You took your clothes off hoping he’d lose all control and fuck you.

She stared at her hands, the burn of shame prickling through her all of a sudden. Yeah, shit, may as well admit to herself that
was
what she’d been hoping for. She’d also been unable to accept giving up on the whole seduction thing, the competitive, fighting part of her not wanting to admit defeat.

It’s all about you and what you want, in other words. Not about what he wants.

Her fingers dug into her knees. Why shouldn’t she get what she wanted? Hadn’t she fought death for it? Hadn’t she put up with enough pain and suffering to earn it?

She gritted her teeth. His concerns about their age difference and the fact that her father was his business partner, seemed ridiculous to her, but clearly they weren’t to him. Yet that didn’t account for his very real fury at her. Okay, so he said he’d felt manipulated, but why? He could have said no, could have walked away.

And he hadn’t. He’d stayed there, watching her. He’d even told her what to do and she’d done it. She’d obeyed him and that had only seemed to make him angrier.

She didn’t understand it. She didn’t understand what she’d done wrong. Jesus, she’d kill for someone to talk it over with. But there was no one.

A deep and familiar pain shifted in her chest and she couldn’t help glancing over at her dressing table, where the single photo she had of her mother stood. A bright summer day and she in the pink tutu her mother had made for her, Judith Andrews standing behind her with her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. Same strawberry blonde curls, same pale, finely carved face. Except her mother’s eyes had been somewhere between green and blue. Turquoise and beautiful.

What wouldn’t she give to have her mother to talk to. But there was no use thinking about shit like that. Her mother was years dead and she’d probably be horrified with her daughter wanting to hook up with a man eighteen years older than she was and an ex-rent boy at that. Not that Lily gave a shit about Kahu’s past.

But maybe he does?

Halfway off the bed, she paused at the thought. It was weird to think that a man like Kahu, a man who didn’t seem to care what anyone thought of him, might care about the things he’d done in his past.

Yet…why had he been a rent boy in the first place? What had led him to it? And what had happened with Anita Howard, his lover, afterwards?

Unfamiliar curiosity twisted inside her like a skein of tangled wool. For years, her entire focus had been on ballet, a constant and consuming passion. And then, when cancer had come, her focus and passion had shifted, channeled into fighting death and getting better.

A person had never been the subject of that focus before because she’d simply never been interested in anyone enough. But now…

Shit, she’d been going about this seduction business wrong, hadn’t she? She’d made it all about herself when actually it was all about the person you wanted to seduce. When it was all about you, that’s when it became manipulation. When it was all about them, only then did it become seduction.

Lily straightened, a new certainty filling her. She walked out of her bedroom and went along the hallway to the stairs, her heart thumping. But she didn’t hesitate as she went down the stairs, approaching the lounge.

In the beautifully appointed room, the fresh roses in the bowl on the coffee table filling the air with their sweet scent, Kahu was sitting on the couch, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, hands lightly clasped between them.

He wore faded blue jeans and a midnight blue casual shirt, sleeves rolled up as per usual. A black wool captain’s coat was thrown carelessly over the couch cushions beside him.

Her breath caught as memory and reality began to blur in her head. Of him, sitting on that couch over the years, so tall and big and rangy. An impossibly strong, uncontained and uncontainable presence. A wildness to him that she’d always found so fiercely attractive.

That wildness, that danger, was there still and now she had something else to add to it. The heat of his mouth around her fingers. The glitter of desire in his eyes. That deep, rough voice telling her to touch her clit, to put her fingers in her pussy…

Kahu turned and Lily froze as his dark, intense gaze pinned her to the spot.

“Ah, Lily,” her father said. “You remember Mr. Winter, don’t you?”

Heat swept through her and she could feel her cheeks flaming. “Uh…y-yeah,” she stuttered like a complete fool. “Hi.”

The expression on his face gave absolutely nothing away, but the smile he gave her didn’t reach his eyes. “Hi, Lily.”

Naturally enough, her father didn’t notice the tension since he didn’t notice anything much about her these days. In fact, it was amazing he’d bothered to introduce her at all. “Anyway,” he went on, “as I was saying about the market…”

Kahu turned back to the conversation, as if she’d ceased to exist.

Hurt spread through her, a sharp, uncomfortable feeling, though she wasn’t quite sure what she’d expected. He wasn’t here for her and it wasn’t as if he could talk to her about stuff now anyway, not with her father sitting right in the same room.