Over the Hills and Far Away (NOLA's Own #1) (36 page)

How is that even possible?

“How…” I swallowed hard and started again, “How can you feel that way? We hardly know each other.”

“I
know
you, Baby Girl,” he stated, his voice deep and full of conviction. “I’ve
always
known you. You’re my other half. I’ve known that from the first time I saw you.”

Feeling slightly dizzy from the torrent of emotions spinning through my head, I sucked in a shaky breath in an attempt to steady myself. Phil leaned down and pressed a sweet, gentle kiss to my mouth that tasted like chocolate and sex.

“Tell me you don’t feel it, too,” he challenged softly.

“I-I can’t,” I admitted, whispering. I sounded as scared as I felt. Splayed wide open and vulnerable to him, my fight-or-flight sense was through the roof, and I wanted to do neither.

What the fuck am I supposed to do?

Accept it. Accept what he wants to give you. Accept him.

Closing my eyes, I could hear his sharp intake of breath.

He
felt
my internal struggle. He knew I was battling with myself.

Leaning into him, sliding my arms around his waist, anchoring myself to him, I took a cleansing deep breath. I breathed him into me, let him fill my olfactory and bombard my mind. Resting my head against his shoulder, my forehead pressed into his neck, and I inhaled his scent over and over. There was nothing that smelled as good as Phil—clean and masculine, spicy and musky, mouthwatering.

Against my breastplate, his heart tripped. In my chest, my heart tripped.

Exhale.

Accept it. Accept him.

Strong arms enfolded me, holding me tight.

Can I really do this? Just trust him and let go of my fears? Will I be forever lost to myself if I do? Or does it even matter?

I’d been fighting it from the moment my mother told me he was The One. I couldn’t accept it then because I couldn’t deal with the fact that he existed, yet he was so far out of my reach. I’d convinced myself that it was simply a secret obsession, that I was holding on to nothing but a pleasant memory, that he wasn’t truly
real
—at least not in
my
life. Even with all the evidence to the contrary, I couldn’t allow myself to believe in this. To believe in it and then be denied…would have destroyed me.

But Phil never
not
believed in it, in
us.
It had been a sealed deal since that night six years ago. It had only been a matter of time for him.

As weak as letting go of my reservations left me, I could feel his strength filling me, lifting me up, and as I pulled back to face him, I was rewarded with his mouth claiming me as his.

This is where I belong—in his arms, in his life. It’s the only place I’ve ever belonged.

When we broke the kiss, we were both left shaken.

“Kenna…”

“I’ll stay the night, if you still want me to,” I told him. “But I have work in the morning, so it can’t be a wild night, okay?”

He smiled. “No worries, Baby Girl. I have to be up at five.”

We made one last stop at the organic grocery store on the way home, and we picked up some things for me to make for our dinner. It was nothing too tasking—just some beef strips, veggies, and rice to make a stir-fry. I doubled the portion though after witnessing his food intake.

“You at least own a pot, right?” I asked, looking around at his kitchen.

“I think so. Danielle said she got me everything I’d need. Although, if I’m honest, I’m really not sure what it is I need.”

“I guess you don’t cook much,” I said, inspecting his hardware.

“I know how to use a microwave,” he sheepishly informed me.

“Ugh,” I grunted.

We started hunting in the cabinets. I found a wok and took out a pot, spoons, and a cutting board. He also had a whole set of chef’s knives, too. I was getting excited to cook in here.

Half an hour later, we were sitting across from each other, digging in to some tasty grub.

“What made you decide to be a doctor?” he asked me around a mouthful of food.

“Watching my mother slowly die of a heart condition,” I replied honestly. There was no need to sugarcoat that.

“Yeah, I guess that would do it,” he agreed darkly, not asking any more on that subject.

“Have you seen your family since you came back?” I asked after a few minutes of silence.

He nodded. “I spent Wednesday and Thursday at my dad’s. I hung out with him and my sister and her fiancé, Martin, and their two kids.” His whole face blazed with joy as he spoke of his niece and nephew.

“You’re a proud uncle then?” I smiled, feeling it in my eyes, too.

“Oh, hell yeah. Camille is three, and Guillaume is about ten months.”

“Very French names,” I stated with a grin. “I like that.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s a family thing. My dad’s family has been here for ages, and they tried to keep the French bloodline goin’—well, for the most part anyway.”

“You and Danielle are really close then?”

“I guess. It’s not so easy keepin’ in touch, but when we do, we tell each other everythin’.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I get that. Connor and I are the same.”

“You have a brother?”

I looked at him in surprise. “I do. Didn’t I tell you?”

He just stared at me. “No. I think I’d have remembered if you had. You only mentioned you and Alys when you told me about livin’ on the compound.”

I blushed. “Oh. Well, yeah, I have a half-brother.”

“Why are you blushin’?”

Because I don’t know how to tell you that I grew up with a three-way deal for parents.

But this was who I was, and if I was going to have an honest relationship with Phil, I should be able to tell him. Shoving aside my misgivings, I explained how I’d really grown up with Mom, Da, and Gloria, and I could feel myself go even redder when his eyes widened in a bit of shock.

“I’m really proud of my family,” I told him defiantly. “And I wouldn’t change them for the world.”

“Well, no. Why would you?”

“A lot of people think it’s not right to raise children in such a way. Connor and I don’t tell people because we got sick of being looked at like we were freaks. I guess that’s why I didn’t mention it before now.”

“You’re not a freak,” he said in his pissy voice. “Do you
feel
like one?”

“I used to when we first moved here. Kids can be real assholes.”

“And now?”

“No. I grew up with a lot of love and understanding, and I’m very thankful for that. When Mom died…well, I still have a mother in Gloria. If my parents hadn’t had such a relationship, I wouldn’t have her to turn to. She’s…helped me to be strong, so I could take care of my grandma.”

Then, my throat tightened up as I felt the loss of Grandma all over again.

He was still staring at me with that X-ray vision of his. “What is it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Nothing. My grandma…” I cleared my throat. “She passed away four weeks ago.”

His jaw dropped a little, and his eyes bugged. “Why didn’t you tell me before now?”

Giving off a bitter little laugh, I replied, “Because, for the last forty-eight hours, I’ve been stupidly happy. You made me forget to be heartbroken.”

His chest swelled with my words, and he got that intense burning in his eyes again. I looked at my plate and poked at my food a bit. Just because I’d let my reservations go didn’t mean I could just take the weight of his emotions immediately.

“I’m sorry.”

“She was old and tired…”
And living with a broken heart for far too long. She had been ready, I think, since the day my mom left this world.

“Yeah, but you loved her.”

“Very much. But…I think it was easier to let
her
go. She had suffered the loss of her only child, and the pain of that never got easier for her. I don’t know how I understood that, but it was almost a relief to be able to say good-bye. It was a lot easier than losing my mom.”

I could feel his eyes on me, like a pulsing heat.

Clearing my throat again, I said, “But Connor and I are pretty close. He’s going to shit himself when he gets to finally meet you. NOLA’s Junk is his favorite band, too.”

“Yeah?”

Smiling, I told him all about Connor and the fact that he was a bit of a musical genius himself.

“He sounds pretty awesome. I can’t wait to meet him.”

Finishing dinner, we both cleaned up the kitchen and put the dishes away in the dishwasher. There weren’t any leftovers. Phil had made sure of that.

“What should we do now?” I asked.

Taking my face in his hands, he softly kissed me. I loved that he touched my face when he kissed me. It was as if our lips touching wasn’t quite enough. Then, he took my hand and led me to the stairs.

“Where are we going?” I asked quietly, my nerves getting the better of me. Heart pounding and chest squeezing tight, I was feeling a bit panicky. Old insecurities rose to the surface, and I found myself mentally tearing myself down for being a freakishly tall, weird ginger kid with no tits and too much ass.

“My bedroom,” he replied without looking back.

Here goes everything.

Adrenaline shot through me as he opened the door to his room. I was trying to control the trembling that made my legs shake and, horror of horrors, my palms sweat. He either took no notice of this, or he chose to ignore it.

Phil
had
to realize that I was freaking the fuck out.

He tossed my Burlap Beast on the bed—I hadn’t even realized he had grabbed it—and he turned around to face me, his eyebrows shooting to his hairline.

“What do you think I’m gonna do to you?”

“I don’t know,” I replied, a little on the breathy side.

“Why are you so nervous then?”

“I don’t know.”

I was nervous because if this was
it
, then I wondered what I could offer him that he hadn’t gotten from countless of other women.

Better-looking
women.

Cute, little, big-breasted bitches who had way more experience than I did.

Women who looked soft and inviting, not ripped and honed by years of yoga.

Women who made men feel like men, not one who was the size of a man herself.

I liked my body though. It had taken me a long time to do so. It wasn’t that I didn’t find myself attractive, but this was Phil fucking Deveraux. He was a man who was so beautiful, famous, and talented, so of course, I was freaking out. I was big and strong, and from what I’d seen in photos and on TV, rock stars liked supermodels, and I looked like I’d eaten one for lunch. I had big bones, heavy muscles, and just large everything, except for boobs.
Damn it.

When I was next to Phil, I looked and felt a hell of a lot smaller than I was, but once out of my clothes, he might realize he liked women who didn’t look like…
me
.

With Brian, I hadn’t really thought about it because it was supposed to be a one-night stand sort of deal, but it had turned into more. By the time I had been ready to sneak the fuck out of his house, he had already done the deed. The fact that he had kept coming back for more was a pleasant surprise. But as drop-dead gorgeous as Brian was, he wasn’t Phil fucking Deveraux, a man who had slept with triple digits’ worth of women.

Well, there’s really only one way to find out if he’s really attracted to me.

He stepped close to me, and I closed my eyes because I didn’t want him to see how I’d lost all my confidence in the space of a few minutes.

Hands gently cradled my face. “Look at me,” he commanded.

“I…I think I just need—”

“You
need
to look at me.”

And I’m the pushy one? Pfft…

Inhaling deeply, I opened my eyes, and he was looking down into them. As if probing my mind, he searched through my thoughts, and I was happy that all I could think of was how beautiful I thought his eyes were—such a gorgeous warm brown, like maple syrup, and so expressive.

“I’m not gonna sleep with you, Baby Girl.”

Gods above…I think my heart just cracked in two.

His eyes narrowed in anger, reading my expression of horror. “I’m not gonna sleep with you
tonight.
I don’t wanna fuck you and then have to leave you, yeah?”