Bonus Scene 4

Posted March 7, 2015 by Tamsyn Bester in Bonus Scene, News, The Line Between, The Line Between / 0 Comments

Hi darlings 🙂 it’s Saturday night, and I’m about to settle down with a new book. I wanted to pop in and post another Bonus Scene! I’ve been planning my next book – which I can’t wait to start sharing! – but haven’t been able to start writing it because I’m still very much fixated on my two fave couples 😉 I have two more bonus scenes left to share, and I will be posting those this coming week 🙂

So…here ya go 🙂

Bonus Scene #4

Dane

 

I wrapped a towel around my waist, and walked back into my bedroom. Kennedy was sitting on our bed, a towel wrapped around her head, wearing one of my shirts. She barely slept in her pajamas anymore, and I couldn’t say I minded. Some nights I was able to convince her to sleep naked, and those nights were always my favorite. She gave me unrestricted access to her body, and I always took full advantage.

She was holding that blue box on her lap, staring at it like it might pop open on it’s own. She’d had it for almost a week already, and I was starting to wonder if she was going to open it at all. I knew losing Lucy was hard for her, but there was a lightness in her eyes, a peace that mirrored my own. Her engagement ring glistened on her finger, making me want to pound on my chest like a caveman because it meant that she was mine.

“You going to open it?” I asked, walking towards her. Her eyes, so brilliant and so green, darted up and a small smile teased her lips.

“I’m not sure.” She looked back down at the box on her lap. “I’m scared to see what’s inside. I’m afraid it will hurt.”

I removed the box from her lap, and untied the towel from her head. I started drying her hair as she pressed her forehead against my stomach. When I was satisfied, I brushed out her locks, and tilted her head back so that I could see her.

“I’ll open it with you,” I offered. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

She stood up, trailing her hands up my chest. I shivered.

“You’ll need to get dressed first,” – her lips brushed my nipple and she peered at me from beneath her lashes – “I can’t focus when you’re wearing nothing but a towel.”

With an arched brow, I asked, “Is my girl feeling frisky?”

Her shoulders lifted into a nonchalant shrug. “With you I always feel that way. So get dressed, at least put some boxer briefs on, and I’ll open this box. After that I’m all yours.”

I cupped her face, and pressed my lips against hers. “Okay,” I exhaled. I dropped my towel and sauntered over my dresser, smiling when Kennedy giggled behind me.

“You’re such an exhibitionist,” she mused.

I looked at her from over my shoulder while slipping some black briefs on. “Only for you, Kitten. I know how much you like my ass.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she wrung her hands together while crossing her legs. Her face was always so expressive, even more so when I called her out on the things she liked about my body. She seemed to be fixated on my ass as of late, and every time we had sex she lifted her knees at my sides, and dug her nails into my butt. It was fucking sexy, and something I doubted I would ever tire of.

I spun around, aware that I had a semi, and motioned for her to get into the bed. “I’m dressed,” I told her. “Now open the box so that I can get you nekid.”

Her eyes rolled, and she climbed to the center of our bed, making a point of doing it on all fours with her ass in the air. I shook my head with a chuckle before joining her.

“You’re trouble,” I murmured, facing her while lying on my side. She crossed her legs, and lifted the box to her lap.

“But you love me,” she replied confidently.

“Hmmm…” I smiled.

Kennedy took a deep breath, and then lifted the lid. Her eyes grew wide, and my heart stopped, waiting to see if she was going to cry. I didn’t want her to hurt. We’d come so far over the last year, and the last thing she needed was a setback.

When her mouth tilted into a face-splitting grin, the tension eased from my muscles. She pulled out a photo frame, and then another, and another, lifting them all to show me.

“I can’t believe Lucy kept these,” she said quietly, more to herself than to me. The first picture she showed me was one of a woman – I assumed it was Kennedy’s mother – on her wedding day. Her long blonde hair hung in ringlets over her shoulders, over the lacey sleeves of her wedding gown, and she held a small bouquet of white roses in her hands. But what caught my attention was her smile, the way it lit up the old photograph. I idly thought about what Kennedy would look like on our wedding day, and when I smiled at the image in my mind Kennedy asked, “What?”

“She’s beautiful,” I replied. “I was wondering what you’re going to look like in a wedding gown.”

“You’ll have to wait and see.” Kennedy held up another photo, and this time I sat up.

“When was this taken?” I asked, staring at the picture. Jewel had her face pressed against Kennedy’s and they were laughing at the camera while holding cotton candy in front of their mouths.

“At the school fair, the year before we graduated. It’s the last photo I have of us. I had no idea Lucy kept it, I thought I lost it.”

I thumbed it, rubbing over my sister’s beautiful face and remembering her smile, her laugh. I missed her, and I knew Kennedy did too, but it no longer stole my breath, or made it hard to function.

“Can I keep it?” I looked up, and found Kennedy watching me.

She nodded. “Of course. We can have it blown up, and touched up a little.”

Kennedy lifted another photo, and her smile slipped. I waited for her to say something, but when she simply shook her head, and sniffled, I shifted, and moved to her side. With my arm around her waist, I peered over her shoulder to see what she was looking at.

It was a photograph of a little boy, holding a newborn wrapped in pink. He’s smiling at the camera like it was the best day of his life.

“Charlie?” I asked quietly. My voice no longer carried years of hate for the person I thought was responsible for my sister’s death. Instead, it was filled with sympathy, and laced with understanding because Kennedy had lost the only family she had. We’d worked through our pasts, at Kennedy’s insistence. She wanted us to have clean slates before we got married, and what she wanted, I gave.

“That was a week after I was born. Lucy and her husband Frank were the ones who brought me home from the hospital. My father was too drunk, and refused to see me.”

My chest constricted, and I tightened my hold on Kennedy, pressing my lips to her temple. “You never have to think about that part of your life again. You have a family now, one that loves you, and some day, when we have kids of our own, they will love you as much as I do.”

Kennedy brought her tearful gaze up to me. “You want to have babies with me?”

“A whole houseful if that’s what you want. Don’t be surprised if I keep you flat on your back as soon as you’re Mrs. Winters.”

She giggled, and slapped my arm. “You’re insufferable,” she sighed. “But I love you.”

Kennedy went back to sifting through the box, and found some more trinkets that had belonged to her mother, and more photos of her and Charlie growing up. When she was finally done I could tell she was exhausted, but when I lifted my shirt over her head she didn’t object. I covered her nakedness with my own, and showed her how much, and how deeply I loved her. Our kisses were whispered promises, our touches unspoken vows that we held close. She gave herself to me, willingly, openly, and I returned it. She was never going to have to worry about being alone again.

 

** ** ** ** **

 

I startled when I heard my phone ringing on my bedside table. Kennedy was curled around me, her legs entwined with mine, and when I rolled over to silence my phone she stirred. I checked the scree, and frowned when I saw my mother calling me at 3 a.m.

“Sorry, Kitten, I have to get this.”

Kennedy sat up, clutching the sheets to her body, and I grabbed my phone.

“Mom? Is everything okay?”

“Dane,” my mother breathed heavily, her voice strained. “I need your help. Your father…he’s…drunk. I know it’s late, but I need you to come get me.”

I was standing up, and fumbling around in the dark for my jeans before my mother finished her sentence.

“Did he hurt you?” I asked through a clenched jaw. When the line fell silent, I had my answer.

“Go to my old room,” I instructed. “I’ll come find you there. If you can, pack a few of your things.”

“O-okay,” my mother whispered. The call ended, and I flew around the room getting dressed.

When I looked at Kennedy she was getting dressed, wearing a pair of my sweat pants – rolled up a thousand times – and one of my hoodies. If I weren’t so angry I would undress her for looking so damn good in my clothes. (Yes, I was aware that that sentiment made no fucking sense.)

“What are you doing?” I asked her, making a grab for my car keys.

“Going with you,” she replied emphatically. “Here,” She tossed me her keys. “My car will probably be a little faster than your truck.”

Kennedy had traded her Jeep in for a 2015 Ford Mustang. It was grey – she had a thing for that color – and a complete devil on the road. I clutched the keys, and held my hand out for Kennedy, grateful to have her at my side.

My parents’ house was dark when I stopped the car outside the front door. Kennedy jumped from the passenger side, and we raced towards the door. I motioned for her to stay quiet as we slipped inside, and I listened for any noises. If my father was in the house, my bet was the study, where he kept his liquor.

Kennedy followed me up the stairs to my old room, and when I pushed the door open, I saw my mother’s small figure hiding in the corner. I rushed to her side, and she winced when I lifted her arms. I caught a glimpse of a light bruise on her face, and scowled. “He hit you?”

My mother’s lips trembled, and she looked away as if to be ashamed. My father had never lifted his hands to her before, and I was going to make sure he never did it again.

“Kennedy is going to help you to the car,” I told my mother. “Did you pack a bag?”

“Yes,” she replied. “What are you going to do?”

“Make sure he never hits you again,” I replied. “We’re done with him, Mom. For good.”

Before she could protest, or beg me to leave it alone, I passed her off to Kennedy, and made sure they got to the car before I went in search of my father.

It didn’t take long. He was passed out cold in the study with his upper body on his desk. I kicked his office chair, and he jerked awake right before I grabbed him by his jacket and lifted him so that we were eye-to-eye.

“D-Dane,” he stuttered, “What are you doing here?”

“Mom called me. I’m taking her to my place until she finds alternative living arrangements.”

My father’s mouth twisted, and he actually looked confused. “Alternative living arrangements?” he repeated like the drunken fool he was.

“Yes. I saw what you did to her face, and I swear to God if you ever lift your hands to her again, I will kill you myself.”

My father scowled, and pushed me away, stumbling when I drop him onto unstable legs. “You can’t threaten me,” he grumbled, scrambling for his tumbler and filling it with more whiskey. “I’m still your father.”

“That means nothing,” I snapped. “You’re just another drunk coward who put his hands on a woman, and for what? To feel manlier?”

“She’s leaving me,” he replied. He fell back into his office chair. My eyes widened in shock. My mother hadn’t mentioned it to me the last time we spoke, and the news caught me off-guard. My father swallowed his liquor in one big gulp and continued, “She said I’ve become too obsessed with ruining Anthony Monroe, and can’t let go of the past.”

I fisted my hands at my sides. “She’s right. You’re hanging onto a pathetic family feud that you know nothing about. Look at what it’s done to you, Dad. Look at what it did to our family.”

My father bolted from his chair and got in my face. “This family has been broken since your sister died, and it was all because of that Monroe kid. He killed your sister, and from what I hear the other Monroe has managed to sink her claws into you!”

“Don’t,” I warned, feeling my anger simmering in my blood. “You don’t know anything about Kennedy.”

He laughed bitterly. “Listen to you! You’re defending her, after everything her family has done!”

I gripped his jacket again, and leveled him with a glare. “She has nothing to do with the feud between our families, and you’d better watch what you say about her.”

With a snort my father spat, “She must be one hell of a fuck if you’re defending her!”

I lost it. I shoved him backwards so hard he hit the side of his desk, and fell to the floor. “I warned you, old man. You know nothing about Kennedy, or our relationship. You can’t let go of the fucking past long enough to see that our family fell apart because of you and your fucking grudge against Anthony Monroe. It ends here because Kennedy is going to be part of this family, whether you like it or not.”

“You stupid, stupid boy,” my father said, making his way up to his feet. “That little slut has you fooled. She’s taking you away from me, from our family, the same way her brother took Jewel. You’re just too busy thinking with your dick to see it!”

Just then the study door creaked, and we both turned to see Kennedy standing in the doorway.

“You brought her here?” my father bellowed, rushing around his desk towards Kennedy. I intercepted him. “Lay a hand on her and I will fucking end you.”

My father stood still, his face a mixture of anger and disgust. “You’d choose her over us? Over your family? You ungrateful little shit!” He brought his fist up, but because of his sluggish movements, his arm flew past my head, and once again he stumbled forward. Kenned stepped back, alarmed, and I took my place in front of her.

“Kennedy is my family now,” I told my father, “And unless you can let go of whatever bullshit grudge you have against the Monroe’s, you won’t be apart of our lives.”

“You’re going to regret walking away from this family,” my father said, pointing a finger at me. “Don’t come crawling back when your little tramp proves – ”

My fist connected with his jaw before he could finish his sentence, and I yelled down at his grumbling form. “Don’t speak about her that way! I love her, and that’s all there is to it. I’ve made it clear where I stand. As of right now I’m done with you and your bullshit. Call me when you man the fuck up and let go of the fucking past.”

I stepped back, taking Kennedy’s hand in mine, and lead her outside, slamming the front door shut behind me.

Kennedy pulled my hand, and brought me to an abrupt halt.

“You don’t have to walk away from your family for me,” she said quietly, suddenly looking a little unsure. I closed the gap between us, and held her face in my hands. “You are my family. That’s all that matters. I don’t want you to ever doubt it. Besides,” I brushed my lips over hers, “my mother adores you.”

“She does?”

I nodded. “Yes. You’re wearing the engagement ring my grandmother received from my grandfather, and when I told my mother I wanted to propose, she gave it to me. So you see, I have all the family I need, Kitten.”

Kennedy stood on the balls of her feet and kissed me. “Then let’s go home,” she whispered.

She climbed into the back of her car – after giving my Mother the front seat – and I drove us home. It was twice in one week that Kennedy and I had shut the door on our pasts, and it was finally starting to feel like we had a clean slate.

We gave my mother the spare room in our apartment, and I promised her I would help her start over. She cupped my cheek with her hand, smiling up at me. “You picked a good girl,” she told me. “And if you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

“I am happy,” I assured her. “Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

“Your sister would want that for you,” my mother added quietly. “Especially with someone like Kennedy. She’s everything I wished you would find.”

“Thanks Mom.” I kissed her forehead, and gave her some privacy. I crawled into bed behind Kennedy, holding her as close to me as possible, and fell asleep knowing that we could finally leave the past behind us. For good.

 

Tamsyn Bester © 2015

 

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