Red Hot (28 page)

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Authors: Niobia Bryant

BOOK: Red Hot
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She hadn't seen him since the night she dropped off the box of things he left at her house. That had led to another round of insults between them, and she had decided in that moment to get away. To not fight for him or fight with him.
She moved back in with her parents that very night, until she could find a new place. Kaitlyn hadn't been back at the complex since then. Her mother and sisters-in-law packed her things up and called a moving company to deliver everything to the ranch. Kaitlyn had called work to decline going in and spent the day crying for everything she had and felt with Quinton, as well as for everything they could have had.
He ended it. He said the words and wrote the check.
Kaitlyn refused to give in and call him. With a heavy breath she let the phone slide back to the floor before she draped her forearm over her closed eyes.
“You okay, kid?”
She looked up as her father walked into the den and smiled at her before he lifted her feet and sat on the sofa beneath them.
“I'm good,” Kaitlyn answered.
“How's the house hunting going?” Kael asked as he tapped her for the remote—
his
remote.
Kaitlyn shrugged as she handed it to him. “I haven't really been looking,” she admitted.
“Oh. Okay,” Kael said slowly as he flipped through the channels.
Kaitlyn shifted onto her side. “I might go with my friends to Vegas next week,” she said as she frowned at the television. “Daddy, I know you not about to watch bull riding. Like, really?
Really,
Daddy?”
Kael easily picked up his remote just as Kaitlyn reached out for it. He set it on the wooden end table on the other side of him.
“Really,” he assured her.
Kaitlyn arched her eyebrows and rolled off the chair to her feet, scooping up her phone. “I don't have a TV in my room,” she reminded him. “All of my stuff is still in one of the sheds outside.”
Kael immediately turned and swung his feet up onto the sofa as he settled in for comfort, with an obvious sigh of contentment. “Is that a weekend trip to Vegas?” he asked.
Kaitlyn paused on her way out the door and turned.
“No, the whole week.
We making memories,
” she stressed with a sassy snap of her fingers before continuing on her way to get dressed for a movie night with her friends.
 
 
Kael frowned deeply as he stumbled to sit up and watch his daughter leave the room. Since her return home Kaitlyn had been basically hit-or-miss with going to work. She had taken to hanging out with her friends again. She admitted she wasn't looking that hard for a house. She was shopping up a storm.
He let it slide so far, because he knew she was hurting over her breakup with Quint—something she had yet to explain. But how much more would he tolerate before he put his foot down again? And how much longer would he and his wife have to share their home and give up their privacy?
Kael frowned deeply. He couldn't remember the last time he could chase Lisha or walk around the house butt naked, if he wanted. And just last night, Kaitlyn came busting through the door just as he reached his hand over to lift the hem of Lisha's dress as they watched a movie.
Kaitlyn was ruining his retirement.
“Houston, we have a problem,” Kael muttered.
 
 
One week later
 
Quint knocked on Lei's door.
“Come in.”
He opened the door to find Lei lying on the middle of her bed with her legs extended up as she rotated her feet in the gold flats Kaitlyn had given her. He set the flat boxes he carried by her dresser.
“I thought you were packing,” Quint said, smiling down at her and still amazed by the overall change from before Kaitlyn had come into their lives.
Lei's ponytail was gone, and she wore her thick, chin-length hair in a bob, which Kaitlyn had taught her how to shampoo and wrap in between her trips to the salon for her perms and trims. She wore the jewelry she received for her birthday and Christmas—small gold hoops, a puffed gold heart on a twisted chain, a charm bracelet, and a heart-shaped ring. She looked like a little lady.
Lei glanced over at him. “I texted Kaitlyn last night,” she said.
An image of her face immediately flooded his mind. “Oh yeah? How is she?” he asked, licking his lips.
“Sad and pretending not to be . . . just like you,” she said with another twirl of her ankle as she continued to eye him.
Quint said nothing.
“Well, anyway”—Lei stressed her conversation with a shake of her head, which was mature beyond her thirteen years—“she said she missed me, and if it was okay with you, she still wanted to keep in touch . . . with me.”
“We'll see,” Quint said, turning to head out of the room.
And there was his reluctance to introduce a woman to his child, because he didn't want Lei to feel the loss of another woman in her life. Just because he shut Kaitlyn out of his life, though, didn't mean he had to do the same for Lei. He stopped and turned around.
“It's okay with me,” Quint told her.
Lei smiled and scooped up her cell phone. “Thanks, Daddy,” she said, sitting up on the bed to cross her legs as her thumbs flew over the keyboard.
Quint left the room and walked into his bedroom to finish packing his things for their move back to their home next week. His replacement as the apartment complex manager was scheduled to move in a week after that, and Quint wanted to be out and to have the apartment cleaned for her. She was an older woman, who appeared to be a little rough around the edges, and seemed not to be in the mood for
any
bull.
All he could do was wish them well.
Quint sat on the bed and opened the drawer to one of his nightstands. He reached in and pulled out the photo frame cushioned on top of a pile of scarves. The picture was of himself and Kaitlyn smiling as they cuddled on the couch for one of their movie nights. Lei had taken the picture and surprised them each with a framed copy for Christmas.
I wonder if she still has hers.
Quint looked from the box at his feet to the wastepaper basket near the bathroom door.
Why am I holding on to the picture when I let go of the real thing?
He rose to his feet and stood over the wastepaper basket with the photo in his hands.
We look good together.
Quint lowered his arm, but he couldn't let the picture go. He couldn't do it. Turning away, he released a heavy breath as he dropped the photo and frame in the box on the floor. He reached in the drawer again and pulled out the silk scarves. Picking them up, he let his curiosity win and pressed the soft material to his face. The subtle and sexy scent of Kaitlyn's perfume still clung to it.
They used the scarves the very last time they made love. . . .
 
 
Quinton scooped Kaitlyn's nude silken body up from the middle of his bed and into his arms to stand her on her feet at the foot of his four-poster bed.
Kaitlyn smiled as she let her eyes roam from his bald head, down the length of his sculpted body, with a leisurely stop at his condom-covered hard dick. She licked her lips and bit them softly as she reached to wrap both of her hands around his hot thickness. She gently massaged his dick in different directions with each of her hands as she pulled upward on it.
Quinton looked down at her hands and his dick between them. “That feels good,” he told her, his voice thick with pleasure.
Kaitlyn leaned forward to bite his chin hotly before she licked it. “It'll feel better inside me,” she whispered against his chocolate skin.
Quinton turned, with his dick still in her hands, to grab one of the scarves from the pile atop the dresser. He saw the curiosity in her eyes before he raised his hands and tied the scarf around her eyes and head like a band.
Kaitlyn smiled. “Okay, this some new shit,” she said in a soft voice, which was filled with excitement and a little trepidation.
Quinton kissed her lips fully. “Let go of my dick,” he whispered against her lips.
Kaitlyn did. She held both of her hands up in the air.
“Perfect.”
Quinton grabbed the scarves, one by one, and tied her wrists to the posts of the bed until she was spread-eagle as she stood before him. He studied her body as he massaged the length of himself. She was gorgeous as she stood there with pride and sexiness and vulnerability.
He grabbed her hips and took one plump breast into his mouth to suckle deeply as he twirled his tongue around her hard nipple.
She shivered and moaned, flinging her head back.
He shifted to her other nipple as he eased his hand around her to squeeze her fleshy ass before gliding down the crease to play in the slick folds of her pussy. He eased his other hand down the front of her body to palm her pussy before he used his agile thumb to press deeply against her swollen clit; and his other hand, meanwhile, continued its onslaught.
“Ahh!”
she cried out.
Quint buried his face against her cleavage as he stroked his finger inside her, enjoying the feel of her ridges. “Shit,” he swore, feeling the slight drizzle of his own release as his dick hardened.
“Now, Quint,” she begged.
“I'ma give you this dick,” he promised, easing his fingers from her body to lift her legs onto his muscled thighs as he bent his legs and lifted onto his toes to glide his dick up inside her. Inch by delicious inch his thickness spread her and pressed against her walls.
They both cried out roughly.
“Damn, you tight,” he swore, letting his head fall forward as he struggled for control as his entire body tensed and the muscles in his buttocks and shoulders flexed.
Slowly—finally—he began to rock his hips as he gripped her buttocks and brought their groins together. And then apart. And then together.
Each slide of his dick rubbed against her clit and Kaitlyn felt goose bumps race over her as every pulse in her body raced crazily. The silk stretched against her wrists as she fought the natural urge to touch him, to feel him.
To be deprived of such an essential sense as sight—while her other senses were overloaded by his touch, his kisses, his words, and the stroke of his dick—Kaitlyn felt like she truly walked the edge of the line between pleasure and insanity.
She felt her climax coming on strongly as a fine sheen of sweat coated her body.
“I'm coming,” she gasped hotly as she felt her pussy walls spasm against his tool.
Quinton bit onto her neck as his own release filled her as he fought the urge to cry out a soprano note and stop his upward thrusts as his climax made the thick tip of his dick extra sensitive.
Unable to hold him as he continued to stroke her to one explosive nut after another, she let her body go slack against her ties and his body and surrendered to the ride.
 
 
“Kaitlyn. Kaitlyn?”
She shook herself from her thoughts of the last time Quint had sexed her. She looked up to see Tandy and Anola staring at her over the rims of their shades as they all lounged poolside at the Mirage Hotel in Vegas.
“Huh?”
“Why your nipples all hard?” Tandy asked, tossing a towel over Kaitlyn's bikini-clad body.
Anola raised her margarita in toast. “I don't know what the hell you was just thinking about, but damn ain't no fun if your friends can't get some.”
Her friends laughed as Tandy toasted that as well.
Kaitlyn just brushed the towel off her body and rose in her white strapless bikini to dive into the pool effortlessly. The coolness of the pool took the fire burning inside her down a bit, but the pressure of the water against her body felt too much like Quint's hands.
She couldn't escape him. Forget him. Drink him away. Party him away. Flirt him away.
Nothing.
She came up from beneath the water for air, but she dove back beneath the depths to hide her tears, which she couldn't keep from falling.
Kaitlyn loved and missed Quinton Wells. There was nothing she could do about it.
C
HAPTER
17
One month later
 
Kaitlyn could hardly believe the many peaks and valleys of her life since her return from the Vegas trip with Anola and Tandy. What happened in Vegas definitely didn't stay in Vegas. And in the end she knew that was a good thing.
The trip and all the fun and frivolity it contained had begun to wear on Kaitlyn before they reached the midpoint of the trip. Waking up to a pounding headache and alcohol film on her tongue, with vague memories of dollar bills and gyrating naked strippers slathered in oil, wasn't the fun it used to be for her.
In Paris she had
lived
and enjoyed it.
In Vegas, however, Kaitlyn wondered if she could
survive
it.
When she got back to her parents', she had slept for almost two days straight to recover. She finally felt her head was on straight enough that she called her boss and discovered she had been fired for missing too many days of work—and not having enough focus on the days she did appear.
That was a reality check like no other.
After lying to her parents about her boss going out of town and giving her additional time off, she isolated herself in her room and reflected on a lot of things. She learned that being still made a person focus on things. Focus. Evaluate. Reevaluate. Make changes.
And she did
all
of that, and more.
Kaitlyn took a sip of the glass of wine she held as she flipped through the look-books of several designers. As she listened to the late Whitney Houston's
The Greatest Hits,
she had to admit it felt good to be back in her own space and back doing something far less pointless than just shopping.
The most grown-up thing Kaitlyn ever did in her life was swallow her pride and go back to Lyle to request her job back. She just thanked God he adored the Azzedine Alaia dress she wore, with a matching cardigan. The sheer off-white and metallic gold striped dress had a full skirt that ended just above her knees. He especially loved the thin gold band she wore around her waist as a belt.
“I want to be mad at you . . . but I can't,” he had admitted, coming around his desk to pull her up onto her six-inch heels to air-kiss each of her cheeks. “To your desk.”
And Kaitlyn had been back to work ever since. Even arriving early and working on some weekends to scout new designers for his boutiques.
She sang along to “You Give Good Love” as she looked around at the cottage she had moved into just last week. Kaeden's wife, Jade, had once lived there and suggested it to Kaitlyn when she mentioned finding her own place. Luckily, it sat empty and Kaitlyn scooped it up. And she hadn't missed the extra kick in her father's step around the house when she announced she was moving.
Kaitlyn didn't feel offended. The last week back in her own place and space had reminded her how good it felt to be on her own. It had been a minute since she enjoyed the freedom of walking around the house naked. And this was her first Friday evening at home and nowhere near a club, dinner party, or event of any kind.
She loved Tandy and Anola, but Kaitlyn had also decided to pull back from their friendship a bit. They just didn't want the same things in and out of life anymore. And she was okay with that.
Bzzzzzzzzz . . .
She set her wineglass down and picked up her cell phone. A text.
“Lei,” Kaitlyn said, smiling as she used her thumb to open it. The little sweetie had made sure to stay in contact with Kaitlyn; and weeks ago Kaitlyn had even taken her and Kadina to the movies.
“‘Doesn't my daddy look good?'” Kaitlyn read aloud, her heart already pounding fast as she looked at the picture of Quint in a tuxedo.
“Sexy ass,” Kaitlyn muttered as she zoomed in on the picture.
Kaitlyn hadn't seen Quint in two months, and nothing about him had changed. Still bald. Still handsome. Still sexy as hell.
She set the phone back down on the table and looked down at his face. Nothing about her feelings had changed either. Her heart and pulse were still racing and pounding. Her stomach was fluttering with butterflies. Her memories were flooded with the good times—in and out of bed.
Picking up the phone, she texted Lei back: YES HE LOOKS VERY GOOD.
Kaitlyn ran her fingers through her hair, causing it to stand on end as she sat back in the chair and tapped her fingers against the tabletop. In time the pain and anger over their sudden breakup had dulled in her, but she couldn't lie and say that she didn't think of him often—especially since she stayed in contact with Lei.
Although she never questioned Lei about her father, Lei always found a way to let her know that Quint was not seeing anyone else. It was clear that little Lei was rooting for a reconciliation. That made Kaitlyn adore her all the more, and miss even more the times that the three of them had shared together.
Bzzzzzzzzz . . .
Kaitlyn eyed the phone before she picked it up again and opened the text she already knew was from Lei: Dadd jst tryiN his tux 4 a wedin 2moz. Not a d8. N no d8 4 wedin. ;-)
She frowned as she tried to decipher the teen's text lingo. Most times she got it quick.
Daddy just trying on his tux for a wedding . . . tomorrow. Not a . . . date. And no date for wedding,
Kaitlyn finished.
Kaitlyn didn't answer Lei. What was she supposed to say? Thanks for the update on your daddy's personal life? Nothing. Never.
The sound of Whitney singing “Where Do Broken Hearts Go?” played throughout the cottage.
She sang along to the song, a little off-key but heartfelt.
Truth?
Her heart was broken.
She stood up from the table and grabbed her car keys before she left the house as Whitney sang: “And if somebody loves you . . . Won't they always love you?”
Apparently not, Whitney,
Kaitlyn thought, closing and locking the door before she climbed into her car and drove to her parents'.
Kaitlyn was still softly singing the chorus into the quiet interior of the vehicle as she drove down the long road leading to their stately brick home. She made her way up the stairs and started to use her key to unlock the door, but she knocked, instead, with a little smile and shake of her head.
The door opened and she looked up at her mother standing there in a pretty rust cotton dress with a full skirt and long sleeves.
“What's wrong?” Lisha Strong asked, reaching for Kaitlyn's wrist to pull her inside.
“You going out?” Kaitlyn asked, surprised by the emotions she felt brimming on the edge.
Lisha hugged her close to her side.
And then Kaitlyn's tears fell.
“What's wrong?” Kael asked in alarm from somewhere behind them.
“I knew this was coming,” Lisha said, steering Kaitlyn into the kitchen. “I'm pretty sure this is about Quint.”
Kaitlyn nodded as she was eased down onto a stool and a big slice of apple pie à la mode was eventually slid in front of her. She looked up at the sound of the front door slamming suddenly.
“Where's Daddy going?” she asked as she wiped the tracks of her tears with her slender fingers.
“To see a man about a dog,” Lisha said, very no-nonsense as she sat down on the stool next to her.
Kaitlyn frowned. In the South that was always an adult's answer to a child asking where an adult was going. The translation was
None of your business.
Point made.
“You ready to talk about it?” Lisha asked.
Kaitlyn shrugged and felt the sadness come back in a rush. “Honestly, Mama, I loved him. I still love him and he ended things. He broke my heart, Mama. He just walked away from everything we had, like it was nothing.”
Lisha made a sad face as she reached for Kaitlyn's hand and squeezed it. “Why?”
Kaitlyn looked up. “Huh?”
“Did he say why?”
Kaitlyn shifted in her seat as she felt swamped in the awkward moment. She shifted her eyes away from her mother.
“He thought . . . He didn't like . . . He said that he didn't like that I was going back to being the spoiled little rich girl. He . . .”
Lisha made a face that caused Kaitlyn to pucker her forehead.
“What?” Kaitlyn asked, leaning back a bit as her almond-shaped eyes widened. “What is that look about?”
Lisha held up both her hands. “You had us on the edge of our seats for a minute too, Kat.”
Kaitlyn frowned.
“I'm not saying that Quint was right to end things, and I know nothing about how he ended them . . . but your father and I were regretting our decision to help you so much again, because you did go a bit backward. Right?” Lisha said slowly, clearly not wanting to offend her daughter, who was in pain . . . but needed to hear the truth.
Kaitlyn rose to her feet and paced a bit before she stopped. “Okay, I tripped a little bit, but what does that have to do with
him
?” she asked with attitude. “It felt like he was jealous—”
Lisha frowned. “Really?” she asked.
Kaitlyn's mouth moved, but nothing came out. Their disagreement about the exact same subject came back to her very clearly:
“I have a problem with them taking the woman I love and turning her back into the spoiled little rich girl I couldn't stand.”
“Because my family is able to help me, I shouldn't accept it to prove to you that I'm grown?”
“No, you shouldn't accept it because you're smart and brave enough and
woman
enough to get it all on your own.
If
you wanted to, but the hard road ain't for everybody.”
“Are you jealous of my family's wealth?”
“For you even to think that lets me know you are every bit of the spoiled brat that I thought you were.”
Kaitlyn looked pensive as she pushed the painful memory away.
“Why else would he care if y'all paid my bills?” she asked.
“The same reason we all did,” Lisha began simply. “He cares about and wants the best for you. You know we all thought you needed an adjustment to your thinking and to some of your ways, and that's why we put the restrictions on you in the first place.”
Kaitlyn dropped back down onto her stool. “Still, he left. He decided. He didn't think I was worth it, and I can't front. It hurts. I cannot believe he hasn't called or tried to apologize or nothing. It's been a couple of months and I just am sick of thinking about him and missing him and being mad at him and—”
Lisha rose to pull her daughter into her arms as she sat. “Time heals all wounds, baby. I promise.”
Kaitlyn leaned into her embrace and sought the strength and comfort she offered.
“But Mama's gonna give you advice about compromise that you
both
could use.”
Kaitlyn wiped the tears from her eyes as she got schooled on life by her mother.
 
 
Quint hung the tuxedo in one of the two walk-in closets. He wanted to make sure everything fit before the wedding he was in the next day. Flexing his broad shoulders, he left his master suite and jogged down the wrought-iron spiral staircase to the lower level of the house. He headed around the base of the staircase to the sunken den, where Lei was setting up their usual Friday movie night. She was in the identical footed pajamas Kaitlyn used to wear on the colder nights.
“What's the movie?” Quint asked, easing down into the recliner and kicking his bare feet up. “Your pick.”
“Bridesmaids,”
Lei said; there was a playful twinkle in her eye as she picked up the remote.
Quinton frowned.
“Someone once told me that what I wanted was important, and for me to never forget that,” she reminded him as she plopped down into the recliner on the opposite side of the table beside him.
What could he say when his daughter gave his own words of wisdom back to him?
“Just remember that when you're old enough for a boyfriend.”
“And when exactly is that?” Lei asked.
“When you're old enough to sign your name on a rental or mortgage agreement,” Quinton answered easily without hesitation.
Lei tossed a popcorn kernel at him.
Quint caught it with one hand and then tossed it into his open mouth.
“You could take Kaitlyn to Mr. Kyle's wedding tomorrow.”
Quint ignored the question and pretended to focus on the opening scene of the comedy. He didn't want to think of or be reminded of Kaitlyn Strong. And usually he failed.

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