17. Kennedy

The ride hometo Philly is quiet for the first fifteen minutes or so until Shane finally breaks the ice. “You said the other day that you’re splitting your time between two houses as if it’s a new situation.”

“Yeah, my parents.”

“They’re newly divorced, right?”

“Yep.”

“With everything that happened with your ex, that must have been a lot.”

“It was suffocating. I think the worst part about all of this is that John and I had just started our relationship. We weren’t super serious. No one in my family really knew who he was, only a few of my school friends. So when this happened to him, I became a footnote of the story, making it easy for me to slink away and not accept any responsibility, especially because the out-of-court settlement was private.”

“What responsibility? Seriously, Kennedy, you feel guilty about that fight?”

“Completely.”

“Have you been in counseling at all over this?”

“You sound like my mother.”

“It can’t hurt to talk to someone who can help talk you through things. I had one when I was younger.”

“I have a therapist but I guess she sucks at her job. I don’t feel any better than I did when I started.”

I slip off my leather booties and adjust the leather seat of Shane’s silver pickup truck to a reclining position. We’re in a worn-in GMC Sierra this time, which he said he drove all through high school.

“This truck feels way more like you than the BMW you rented back in Vegas. It’s comfy.”

I lift my legs and place my bare feet on the dashboard. He doesn’t seem to mind me making myself comfortable.

“Yeah, you think so?”

“Uh-huh.”

“It was my Dad’s.”

“You don’t talk about him much,” I say, my eyes growing heavy with sleep.

“He died,” Shane says solemnly. “There’s not much to really talk about.”

My eyes flick back open.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought him up.”

“It happened a long time ago. I was ten. He had melanoma. By the time the doctors caught it, it was too late.”

“So your mom’s been alone for a while.”

“Yeah, she has.”

This explains Shane’s resistance to breaking up our parents, which makes me like him even more. His Mom is a widow, and he wants her to find happiness again, which I guess I have to respect.

“Okay, no more dead Dad or sad John talk. We’ve been way too serious tonight, and it was counterproductive,” he says.

“Right.”

“We were supposed to have fun and to get to know each other better.”

“I know how we can salvage the night.”

“Ooh, how?” he bites his bottom lip suggestively.

“Is your mind always in the gutter?”

“Always.”

“Well, how about we escape the gutter and work on our project? That’s a great way to get to know each other.”

“Honk!”

Shane makes this annoying buzzing sound like we’re on a game show, and I just lost a speed round.

“Would you be quiet?” I laugh.

“Honk!”

“You’re so ridiculous.”

But after a few more of his diverting honking noises and a night staring at the city skyline as we cross the Benjamin Franklin Bridge into Philadelphia, I have to admit that I feel better than I have in a long time.

“You’re probably the funniest hockey player I’ve ever met,” I say, letting my guard down.

“You’ve met a lot of hockey players?” he raises an eyebrow.

“I told you I grew up with some.”

“You grew up with amateurs. I’m a pro.”

“Of course you are,” I smirk. “My bad.”

“Are you denying my greatness, Miss Bing? You saw me play the other day.”

“I think your ego will survive it if I don’t blow smoke up your ass like everyone else does especially that Lisa girl.”

“Why are you picking on my superfans?”

“Oh, that’s what we’re calling her?” I roll my eyes. “I’ve been following your career since high school?” I mimic her irritating small voice. “I bet she has.”

“Ooh, you’re so jealous. You think she wants my big body?”

“More like your big earning potential.”

“Can we drive to one of my favorite spots and hang for a few?”

“Where?” I ask, suspicious of his motives.

“Boathouse Row. The view is spectacular.”

Having lived in the area all my life, I can count on one hand how many times I’ve actually gone to sit and stare at the famously illuminated boathouses on the east bank of the Schuylkill River.

“We can’t stay long,” I tell him.

“Cool.”

We pull into a parking area by the river, which places us directly on the opposite side of the boathouses. We have a direct view of each colorfully lit house and the Art Museum. Shane turns off the ignition and turns down the music, and we just sit in silence for a moment, appreciating the spectacular city landscape.

“Let me know if you get cold,” he says.

Not totally sure what to wear to the party, I ended up selecting a black one-shoulder top, faux black leather leggings, and short boots–not the warmest outfit for late November in our part of the world.

“I’m fine.”

“Why don’t we finish our conversation,” he says, pivoting his massive shoulders in my direction.

“Which conversation?”

“The one where you’re finally going to admit that you want my body too, beautiful.” His voice sounds unusually gritty and makes something flutter in my chest.

“Keep your eyes on the boathouses, and stop calling me beautiful for the millionth time.”

“You’re right. It’s not special enough.”

“And it’s lazy.”

“But accurate.”

“It says a lot that you still use it when I’ve repeatedly asked you not to.”

“Damn, you can hold a grudge. I called Lisa beautiful one time. It was a slip of the tongue. Now I can never say it again?”

“This has nothing to do with the fact that you called us both ‘beautiful’ literally within seconds of each other.”

“Yeah,” Shane chuckles, staring me down with his hypnotic eyes. “You can definitely hold a grudge and it’s sexy as fuck.”

His laser-focused attention on me is making me anxious.

“Your eyes are mismatched,” I babble.

“You’re just noticing that?” he teases.

“It seems uncommon.”

“I think it is. I’m not sure. I never asked.”

He reaches in the back of the truck and pulls out a bottled water.

“Want some?” he offers.

I nervously take a sip and then hand it back to him. He takes a long sip behind me, and something about the act makes me blush.

“How was your Thanksgiving?” he asks me.

“It was good. What did you guys do?”

“We had a quiet dinner with about fifty or so of our closest relatives,” he grins.

“You have a big family?”

“Yeah, there’s a lot of Sullivans. The only thing is that I think being around them all reminds my mom a lot of her times with Dad.”

“What about her family?”

“She’s an only child, and there’s not many of them left. What about your family? A lot of relatives?”

“No, we’re a small family on both sides. My dad’s people, The Bings, are Chinese-Jamaican and migrated to New York and Philadelphia in the 1970s, but most are in New York, and I don’t know them well. My mom’s parents met in Japan. My grandfather was in the Air Force and met my grandmother at a local eatery. He didn’t speak much Japanese, but I guess their chemistry overcame any language barriers. My mom was born about a year later, lived there until she was five, and then they all moved to the States. My father is close to his sister, and my mom’s younger brother lives in Michigan, but I haven’t seen him since I was three or something.”

I pause talking after that. What is my deal whenever I’m around this guy? I’m spilling my guts again like his car is some sort of therapy couch. I decide I should quiet myself down.

Do your deep breathing, I say to myself.

“I like that I know more about you,” he says without warning, reaching over and using a finger to play with a piece of my hair.

“I guess,” I reply.

“Do I make you nervous, Kennedy?”

Shane continues to play in my hair, and I don’t stop him.

“No,” I answer quickly, probably too quickly.

“That’s good.” He grins devilishly. “Then you won’t mind if I do this?”

Two of his fingers trace the side of my neck, along my clavicle, and continue a path in between my breasts. My breathing quickens.

“Or this.”

His fingers move slowly to one of my breasts and quickly find my nipple through the smooth fabric of my top.

My eyes close, and I know I should stop him, but I don’t.

It feels entirely too good.

Because I’m already conveniently reclined in the car seat, it makes it so easy for Shane to continue exploring my body, inch by inch. He continues running his fingers down my chest, past my belly button, and then they rest at the waistband of my leggings.

I look him dead in the eyes.

He’s studying mine.

He wants me to say the words, but I won’t. I can’t. If this goes any further, it’s because I’m pretending this is all him and I’m some innocent bystander. I’m not ready to admit I want him so badly that I’d gladly ride him to orgasm in this car if I had the nerve.

But I don’t.

And I think he knows it.

So instead of sliding his hand under my waistband, he glides his fingers across it and settles them in between my legs, ending with a firm squeeze of my faux leather-clad pussy.

My head falls back as I mutter, “Fuck.”

“Not yet, but soon,” he promises with a throaty laugh.

He basically gives my pussy a deep tissue massage, alternating between squeezing my labia together, then running his finger in between the folds to knead my clit.

“So I was thinking–” he says while he masterfully rubs me into an impending orgasm.

“Yes?” I say through tight lips.

He leans over more, his mouth close to my left ear, and I can smell heady hints of sandalwood of his cologne in combination with my aching pussy.

“I’d like to make another deal.”

“What kind of a deal?” my question comes out breathy.

“I’m thinking the key to making your Parent Trap plan work is time.”

He stops moving his hand so I can answer him properly. It only pisses me off.

“I know full well you don’t want any parts of my plan.”

“I don’t want to hurt my Mom,” he agrees. “But if I can get her to slow down, maybe we don’t move to Philly right now; perhaps they just date for a while.”

“Slow down?”

“Yeah.”

His hand starts to rub between my legs again.

“And not move in my house?” I whisper through a moan.

“Yes.”

“You could buy us that kind of time?”

“I think I could,” he smiles diabolically. “And who knows? Maybe she’ll eventually get sick of your pop and kick him to the curb.”

“Or the other way around,” I retort.

“I doubt it. My mom’s a MILF.”

My release is swiftly approaching. I excitedly grab his thick, corded forearm in anticipation. It’s been so long since I came, especially at someone else’s hands.

“I’m coming,” I cry.

“Let me feel you, Kennedy.”

I nod my head fiercely. “Okay.”

He stretches the waistband of my pants with one hand and slides the other inside, settling between the folds of my clit and giving it one gentle squeeze to send me over the precipice.

“Come for me, now,” he orders, and I let out a low, raspy scream, which is soon smothered by Shane’s mouth on mine.

Our kiss is desperate and all-consuming as he gently strokes me through my release and into several more pulsating aftershocks. The moment felt like something you’d see in a rated-R movie or a steamy romance novel. It’s fiery and hot and wildly erotic. I didn’t think it could actually be like this with a guy. I can also see how this could be mad addictive.

“Should we talk about what just happened?” I ask as the reality of what we just did settles in.

“I hope that kiss was better than the last one.”

“Shane, we shouldn’t. Our parents–”

“Are not married yet.”

I consider that fact for a minute, as well as the deal he proposed before he made me see stars.

“What’s the catch?” I ask him.

“To the new deal?” he smiles, and my eyes grow heavy with desire as he licks my release off of each of his fingers.

Damn, he’s freaky.

“Yes.”

“You give me three wishes like a genie in the bottle.”

“I don’t know.”

“Nothing crazy.”

“Nothing criminal.”

“That goes without saying.”

“And nothing…sexual.”

“That will come naturally, so fine. Hell, we’re halfway there.”

I regret that orgasm already.

“What’s the first wish, hockey boy?”

“The team is moving into a new house when we return to Vegas. I want you to help me move in.”

“A house?”

“Alumni boosters bought us a house for the team.”

“Like a frat house?”

“Pretty much but nicer.”

“Okay, but there’s already a team of muscular hockey players ready to help you move in. You don’t need me.”

“I know that, but I want you there. That’s wish one of the deal. Do you want to try things my way and get this Parent Trap shit moving or do you want to be my new stepsister?”

“Would you stop saying that shit.”

“After what we just did, that would be a little awkward, wouldn’t it? Imagine how much worse you’ll feel after I fuck you senseless.”

“Oh my God, Shane!”

He laughs so forcefully that the truck shakes.

“What’s it going to be, Miss Bing?” he extends his arm as if we aren’t way past a handshake now.

I reluctantly lift my hand to meet his, electricity sparking between our fingertips.

What am I getting myself into?

“Deal.”