Broken Compass Page 23

  “You are important, West.” He’s looking straight into my eyes, and familiar heat seeps through me. “Don’t you see?”

  How to explain I’m not sure if what I see, what I feel, is real or an illusion?

  I take a step back. “Thanks… thanks for coming over.”

  “Promise to come see us, dude.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I say, and feel lighter than I have in months. “I promise.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Sydney

  I’ve been so worried. Between Nate’s breakdown, the worry over West and Kash being sick—and then making out with West, being shoved away by Nate, and that one kiss with Kash from forever ago still burning in my mind like a star—I can’t focus on anything.

  School is a blur, work isn’t much better. The ice cream parlor is bustling, kids yelling and moms trying to get them what they want. I give a customer the wrong flavors, a kid starts to scream like the world is ending, and the manager chews me out.

  Rightly, too. At this rate, I’m a hazard to the business.

  “This is lurve,” Sara says, nudging me with her hip out of the way and making the next cone.

  “What? No.”

  “You’re daydreaming with your eyes open. I know the signs. So who’s the lucky guy?”

  If only it was only one.

  “Is it the guy who walks you home sometimes? The movie star?”

  That’d be Kash. Ever since that first time he came to make sure I got home safe he’s made a tradition of it—at least on the days he has time. He works so hard.

  Who is he, really? Of the boys, he’s the one I know practically nothing about. Kash Graham. Older than me by three years. I’m about to turn nineteen this year so he must be twenty-two by now.

  No family he wants to talk about. Smokes weed to handle anxiety attacks. Pretty as a bad angel. Speaks Russian. Had valuables with him that he sold to help us get by—stolen goods? Family heirlooms?

  But it doesn’t matter that I don’t know the guys’ secrets. I care for them. I want them. And even if all three wanted me, really wanted to be with me, how could I choose?

  I can’t. I can’t lose their friendship. Then I’d be losing everything. They’re all the family I have.

  My mom has never come back. I wonder sometimes if she ever thinks of me or if she has forgotten she has a daughter. Why didn’t she ever come back? Is she even alive? What if she’s lying cold and lifeless somewhere and I’ll never know? What if she started a new life and a new family somewhere?

  I guess I might never know.

  If Kash is a mystery, Nate is breaking my heart with the nightmares he’s been having night after night. The way he jerked away from me as we’d kissed, the panic in his eyes… I shiver at the possibilities and I pray it’s not what I fear, though the way he flinches whenever I touch him would make a sort of sick sense if it were.

  Oh God… No, not going to think about that. No way.

  But the need to talk to someone about what happened is eating at me, and I hesitate to tell West.

  West, who had his big, rough hand down my panties, making me come, his tongue in my mouth, whose hard cock I touched.

  Heat washes through me every time I remember it.

  But yeah. Nate. He’s been on my mind so much these past days—his reluctant confessions in the kitchen, the frustrating refusal to tell us what has really happened to him, in what ways he was hurt, and then his nightmares, his obvious desire and violent reaction.

  My beautiful Nate with his golden eyes and golden heart, the body of a fighter and the scars of a kid who didn’t manage to escape his fate—with those soft lips and that hard pain in his gaze.

  So I wait for Kash until late into the night, hoping he knows something I don’t, that he has some words of wisdom to share. He’s older. He has to know more, know better. Right?

  Only when he stumbles in and has to lean on the wall for support all thoughts of Nate flee my mind.

  “Jesus.” I grab him around the waist, doing my best to keep him upright. He’s so much taller than me it’s no easy task. “Easy.”

  “Syd.”

  “You’re still sick,” I whisper, sick myself with worry as we make our way to his bedroom and he sinks down on the bed. “I thought you were doing better. You should rest more.”

  “I’m fine. Just tired.”

  “You’re pushing yourself too hard. Have you eaten? Let me get you something, and then—”

  “Red. Stop.” He captures my wrist, drags me down to the bed with him. “I’m much better, I swear. It was just a long day of work. Why are you so worried?”

  I bite my lip. “Are you serious? How can I not be worried about you? I care about you.”

  His silver lashes shield his eyes, but his face is oddly open and vulnerable. “You don’t really know me.”

  “I know enough.” All my questions from earlier rush back in but he has to know I care, right? “We’ve been living together. You’ve been taking care of us. You saved Nate from whatever it is he doesn’t want to talk about. You won’t talk about it, either. What happened to him, Kash? Why won’t he say? Why won’t you? What did you see that night you led us away?”

  He turns my hand over, runs his thumb in circles over my palm, sending a shiver of pleasure through me. “You love Nate.”

  That statement, so simple, so true, flutters between us.

  “I…” I don’t dare look at him. “I do. Which is why I want to help him.”

  He nods, his thumb never stopping its maddening, pleasurable journey from my fingers across my palms and down to my wrist, then back again. “He won’t talk about this willingly.”

  “No.”

  “I thought he’d open up to you. The way he looks at you…”

  “Like what?”

  “Like he’d give his last breath for you.”

  I pull my hand away. “Don’t say things like that. Besides, he can’t even touch me. The other day he…” He kissed me. We kissed. But the words stick in my throat. “We hugged, and he had a sort of panic attack.”

  He nods again. Doesn’t look surprised.

  “Tell me, Kash. What did you see?”

  He leans back against his pillows, shoves ash-blond hair out of his face, then folds both muscular, tattooed arms behind his head, causing his T-shirt to ride up, exposing his ripped stomach.

  Jeez, this boy. We’re having a serious conversation, but suddenly all my attention is on that rippling six-pack. When did he turn from a gorgeous boy next door into a sex god? It’s a miracle the sheets haven’t caught on fire, he’s so hot.

  “I saw his stepmom,” he says.

  Tearing my gaze away from those sexy abs, I blink at him. “What?”

  “That night. His stepmom came out of her bedroom dressed in this… semi-transparent nightgown.” He grimaces.

  Um. “Okay. I’m sorry you had to see that. But what’s that got to do with Nate?”

  “He was in her room. His parents’ room, I guess. His dad had friends over, in the living room, and his stepmom went into the bathroom, and I found Nate… in that bedroom.”

  I still don’t understand.

  “Nate was… he was on the window ledge,” he says quietly, and it takes me a moment to process the words. “He told me later he was trying to escape, but I’m not sure, Syd.” He sighs. “Not sure what he was doing in that room, and if he was trying to escape from the apartment, or end it all.”

  Tears spill down my cheeks. I don’t even feel them until Kash reaches up and dashes them away. I put a hand over my mouth, nausea hitting me, a crushing wave of fear.

  Then he pulls me into his arms and lies back down, hauling me on top of him. “Shh…It’s okay.” He strokes my hair, my back, his heart beating steadily underneath me. “It’s okay.”

  But it’s not and probably never will be. How can it be okay? He confirmed my worst fears.

  “I thought he said that his stepmom didn’t hurt him,” I breathe, wetting Kash’s T-shirt with my
tears. “Why would he lie?”

  “Who knows how he sees this in his mind,” his voice rumbles. He’s so warm, his body hot like a furnace. “Trauma is a tricky business. Or what he thinks we’ll do if he tells us the truth.”

  “I’d go punch that bitch in the face,” I hiss into his shoulder.

  He chokes. “Okay, maybe that’s why. Maybe he’s afraid we’ll go and get ourselves into trouble on his behalf.”

  “So is this why?” I whisper, despair crowding my thoughts. “Why kissing me freaked him out?”

  “He kissed you.”

  I lift my head, to see his face, because his voice is strange—kind of… empty, but also kind of curious and interested.

  There’s heat in his gray eyes, but not the angry sort.

  I lick my lips, and his gaze drops to my mouth. “Yeah. He did.”

  “Dammit.” He shifts underneath me, and I feel his cock, long and hard, poking me in the hip, making me gasp. His hands thread in my hair, cup the back of my head, and then his mouth crashes on mine, his tongue thrusting between my lips.

  Oh God, it’s been so long since we kissed, that first and last time, and all this want, all this desire for him has been accumulating in my core, under my skin, everywhere, and now his taste is in my mouth again, his scent, his long, hard body stretched underneath mine, his arms around me.

  I missed him, I realize with a jolt, missed being so close to him, feeling his skin, the shape of his body, feeling how he wants me.

  It makes me happy. And hot. I whine in the back of my throat, my hands burrowing under his T-shirt, stroking the smooth skin and firm flesh of his abs, then higher, over his pecs.

  How can I want him so much when I also want Nate and West? But the thought is fleeting, lost in the storm raging inside me.

  He grabs my ass and hauls me higher until I’m sitting in his lap, his hard-on pressing between my legs. He moans and breaks away, panting harshly.

  “Fuck, I tried,” he whispers. “I tried not to kiss you again. Not to stay. To leave and not come back, but I couldn’t. What are you doing to me, woman?”

  I can only kiss him again, kiss him more, touch him, unwilling to stop. I want to see him, pleasure him, so many fantasies of getting him naked that I’m breathless.

  Sitting up, regretfully breaking the kiss, I drop a hand to his zipper and feel his cock pressing against my hand, burning hot even through the denim. It jumps a little when I press down.

  God, so sexy.

  “Syd.” He groans, staring down where my hand rests on top of his hard-on. “Shit.”

  Without a word, I unzip him, carefully, finding that he’s gone commando, the parting cloth revealing his bare, flushed cock inch by inch, until it springs free.

  “Oh fuck,” he hisses, his abs clenching into that delicious six-pack. I’ve managed to push his T-shirt all the way up, and I can see his small pale nipples all bunched up into tiny hard points.

  His cock trembles, and it’s as impressive as West’s was—long, and thick, silky skin stretched tight over steel, but paler, the head darkening as I watch. Smells good, too, like exotic spice and salt.

  My mouth waters, and without another thought, I bend and lick the underside, from root to crown.

  “Jesus fuckin Christ!” His hand tangles in my hair, tugging almost painfully as his hips jerk up, his other hand fisting in the covers. “Do that again.”

  His eagerness makes me smile. He’s like a kid who just discovered ice cream.

  And I’ve just discovered I like drawing that reaction from him. He tastes salty, but when I lick the small slit that’s beading with liquid, it’s sweet and nutty.

  He moans, so I do it again, and his hand clenches harder in my hair. “God. Fuck. Please.”

  “You like this,” I whisper. His cock is like a candy cane, all white and pink, thick and long, and I decide it’s time to taste him properly.

  Taking him in my hand, I suck the soft head into my mouth, my tongue tracing the underside, and he goes wild, bucking on the bed, back arching up.

  “Holy shit! Fuck.” His hand clenches in my hair as he writhes. “I’m sorry, I just can’t… can’t control it. So good.”

  That makes me suck harder on his hard-on, and the need in my belly grows painful. There’s a pulse, a heartbeat thundering between my legs, deep inside me.

  He struggles to keep still, his head thrown back, eyes closed, hips rocking up with every bob of my head.

  I love it. Love that I’m making him feel good. It’s so hot, seeing his strong body tensing, tasting saltiness from his hard cock, feeling muscles in his thighs bunching. He’s so… masculine, despite the fine lines of his face and his soft mouth. So sexy when he’s chasing after his pleasure, his stomach tightening, his movements turning frantic.

  He’s fucking my mouth, and I think I’m going to come just with the friction of my lacy underwear against my clit, the rough material sliding between my wet folds. So wet… I want him inside me, I want his hard cock to fill me up.

  Swallowing around his cock, I glide my hand upward, feeling his abs ripple under my palm. He’s panting, sweat slicking his skin as he struggles to control the movements of his hips.

  I’ve no experience with this sort of thing—with sex, say it, Syd—but I’m pretty sure he’s losing the battle. That he’s losing all control and is about to come.

  Something has me glancing to the side, out of the corner of my eye—a small noise, a shifting shadow?

  Nate’s standing at the half-open door, watching us. He has one arm braced on the door frame, his hand shoved inside his black boxer briefs, moving. He’s stroking himself, I realize, jerking off to the sight of us, and his gaze is burning with hunger and yearning.

  I gasp, tighten my hold on Kash’s cock, and he groans out loud. “Fuck, Syd.”

  Bitter, salty cum fills my mouth, and I swallow convulsively, then pull back when another jet hits the back of my throat, letting it spill all over his stomach. He’s arched like a bow, face locked in a grimace, his hips jerking as he comes and comes.

  It’s so hot that pleasure hits me, the pressure between my legs uncoiling and bursting. I moan, caught by surprise at the suddenness of it, the intensity. I find myself half-sprawled over Kash, his softening cock trapped between our sweaty bodies, his cum gluing us together.

  And I don’t mind. A surge of affection hits me when his hand untangles from my curls and strokes the top of my head, when his other hand comes to rest on my back, warm and heavy. His heart is thumping so fast under my ear.

  I force one eye open and squint at the door. The doorway is now dark and empty. Nate’s gone.

  Was he really there? Or did I imagine it?

  “Shit, girl.” Kash shivers. “Did I… hurt you? Kinda… lost control there.”

  I like how he can’t catch his breath. “Was it okay? I’ve never blown a guy before.”

  A chuckle makes his chest jump. “Never… had anyone suck me off… before.”

  I lift my head, open-mouth. “Shut up. I don’t believe you. You’re a twenty-one-year-old male. I bet you had girls before. A girlfriend, even.”

  And the thought stops me, a flare of pain hitting me. Oh come on. I’m jealous?

  “Never had time for a girlfriend on the run,” he mutters, “and I’m nineteen, I’m not… fuck.” He closes his eyes. “Fuck.”

  What? Wait a minute… I sit up between his legs, frowning down at him, my mind whirring away with a thousand thoughts. “But you told Nate… you said you were twenty when we met. Nate saw your ID.”

  He says nothing, his jaw clenched. He looks like he wants to rewind the last minute, and is furious that he can’t. Furious at himself for letting this slip.

  Because it’s the truth, isn’t it? A piece of the puzzle that is Kash.

  “That ID is fake, isn’t it?” I press. “You ran away from home, and you don’t want to be found. But why?”

  I mean, hey, I just blew the guy, came from seeing him come apart. We shared a moment,
an intimacy I haven’t shared with anyone before, and that after a year of taking care of each other, living under the same roof… it has to count for something, right?

  But still he says nothing.

  “So you’re nineteen. That’s good. Social services can’t take you. You don’t have to hide anymore.”

  “But I do,” he whispers through clenched teeth.

  “Why? What are you running from? What happened?”

  But he stares stonily up at the ceiling, silent.

  “Are you on the run from the law? Did you rob a bank? Did you hurt someone?”

  A small shake of his head.

  Good enough.

  “You can’t protect me from danger by keeping me in darkness,” I tell him. “And you can’t stop me from caring about you, Kash Graham.” I stroke the ink on his arms, the phoenix and the dragon. “Just so you know. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

  Something shatters in his expression then, and he hauls me back down, into his arms. “Good.”

  Something wakes me in the middle of the night. Or maybe it’s early morning? The blinds are shut, not letting any light penetrate. I never close mine completely, so… this isn’t my room. Or my bed. Plus, a big, warm body is pressed behind me, a heavy arm draped over my middle. There’s a scent of spicy male sweat and sex.

  Sex.

  Kash.

  I lie there, stunned, as last night’s events unfold in my mind. The way his cock looked, so large and rigid, the way his body bowed with pleasure and need, his arms around me afterward…

  God, I can’t believe I went down on Kash. A rush of heat goes through me, followed by something like… pride? Female pride for having someone want me this much, for pleasuring him so well. For liking it, too. For wanting more.

  I’m a woman now. After kissing and touching West, I’d felt more like a grown-up, and I feel it even more now. I wanted Kash to fuck me. I wanted it so badly.

  He’s asleep. I glance down at his hand that’s resting over my stomach, and study the ink that’s curling around his forearm.

  Did he really say he’s my age? I always thought he looked younger than what he said. He’s not older than us, yet he’s been taking care of us, protecting us like an adult would, working his ass off. Living on his own for… how long?