Perfectly Imperfect

  "Please, Kane. I need you."

  "You need me to what?" I rasp. Fuck, if I don't get inside of her soon, I'm going to come in my pants. I can feel her heat through both of our pants and the thin material of her top isn't doing shit to hide her erect nipples from me. I know what's under that top--the sinful lace that cups each of her heavy tits.

  Licking my lips, I let go of her hips and slowly bring my hands to glide up her stomach. She used to flinch when I would touch her stomach, and it killed me each time, but now she doesn't even so much as blink. Every time I see how far she's come--from the woman who hated her body to this temptress in my hands now--pride as I've never known fills me.

  "Yes," she moans. I shake my head and wait. Her expression flashes, and for a split second, I can see a spark of anger. Oh no, there is no place for that shit. She's mad that I'm pushing her, but not for long.

  My hands grab each of her breasts, and I take the firm grasp I know she loves before letting go and removing my touch.

  "Kane!" she snaps.

  "Words, Willow. Give them to me and I'll give you whatever you want."

  "Grab me, hard again," she begs, and I instantly comply.

  My hands back on the tits I love, and I give her exactly what she wants. It doesn't take long before she's writhing and moaning my name. Knowing her tits are so sensitive she could come just from me playing for a few minutes, I regretfully let go. She starts to protest, but I take hold of her shoulders and lift her to sit on the edge. Her legs still spread, my hips planted firmly against her, and I help her remove the jacket before the top and bra are flying over my shoulder.

  She leans back, her palms hitting the mattress and those fucking perfect tits begging for my mouth. She knows I love cupping the heavy mounds in my hand, rolling her nipple under my tongue and between my teeth. Yeah, I'm pretty sure with her arrogant expression, she knows just how badly I want her.

  "Lick me," she commands in a voice that is calm despite the fact her breathing is coming so rapidly that her chest is shaking.

  Fucking hell. She's so close. So close to the point where her desire for what I can give her takes over and her inhibitions disappear.

  "Where?" I rasp, my head already moving toward the tits that tempt me.

  "My ... pussy," she whispers in a breathy voice with just the slightest hint of embarrassment.

  The noise that comes from my throat makes her jump. A low groan that sounds almost animalistic.

  "Fuck, baby." I continue toward the tit I was about to run my tongue over and bite her nipple with just enough pressure to make her cry out. "You have no clue what it does to me when I hear you tell me what to do. Where your body needs me. God, I've never been this hard. Touch your tits, baby. Keep your hands there and your fingers on your nipples. Let me see you."

  "Oh, God," she moans, but instead of denying my command, she lies back and slowly cups herself and does just what I said.

  Her cries fill the room as I work to remove the rest of her clothing. Her shoes, even though I would love to feel the bite of those heels on my back, go first. Her pants and panties are next. When I step back from the mattress, she is so lost in the pleasure she is giving herself that she doesn't notice until my shirt is off and my pants hit the ground with the jingle of my belt against the unforgiving flooring.

  I stand there, harder than fucking hell, and palm my cock as her hands continue to roll each of her nipples. Her eyes widen, and her mouth drops open.

  We continue to watch each other, but when it becomes too much for me, I drop to my knees and give her what she asked. My tongue swirls around her clit before I lick down the wetness and then push it inside her pussy. Her scream is shrill, and I look up her body to see her back bowed off the mattress.

  Lifting one hand, I press down on her hips to keep her from bucking me off her delicious fucking pussy. My other hand continues to slowly stroke my aching cock, each time my thumb grazes over the tip I let out a hum against her that has her jerking each time.

  Each press and lick against her clit has her crying out even louder until I'm sure she's just seconds away from one hell of a climax.

  Then I deny her my mouth.

  "Kane. God, Kane! Don't stop. Please don't stop!"

  Leaning back, I lick my lips before I wipe the wetness from my mouth with the back of my hand. My eyes hold hers, and I wait for her to realize that I won't give her what she wants--what I crave--until she uses the words.

  "I need you inside me," she moans, her hands still pinching her nipples, eyes begging.

  Not good enough.

  I shake my head, and she whimpers.

  "Please, Kane. I need you."

  I shake my head again, standing from the floor and reaching for the condoms I had stuffed in my jeans earlier.

  "Kane, oh God, please."

  "Give me the words." My command has her shaking her head slowly. "Beg. Me. To. Fuck. You." With each word I demand, her shaking intensifies. "Beg me to fuck you with the cock I know you want. Say it."

  "Kane ... please." She gulps when I finish rolling on the condom, and I move to press the tip of my cock against her opening. "Please fuck me," she whispers.

  That word.

  A word I've never heard from her lips before today, but one that has haunted my fantasies from that very second.

  My cock is deep inside her before she even finished asking, and her whisper turns into a loud cry as her body stretches around mine.

  I lean over her and take my time with my mouth on her tits. Each thrust of my hips matches with a deep pull of my mouth around her nipple. I take her body harder when her pleas for more hit my ears. Our skin slaps together with each movement.

  "Fuck," I moan into her shoulder when the pleasure almost becomes too much. "So tight."

  Her legs tighten around me, and I feel her nails in my back just when her pussy clamps tight on my cock. Lifting up, I look into her eyes as she climbs higher and higher. My own climax is just a few thrusts away, but not until I watch her come.

  "I love you," she whispers then rolls her head back and moans a long, deep sound that melts into a high scream as she comes. I can't take my eyes off the beauty of it. In the middle of her scream, her hands grab her tits and her hips jolt against my thrusting as her orgasm seems to roll right into another.

  "Fuck!" I shout, my head dropping to her shoulder. I fight to keep my weight from falling heavily on top of her as my own body comes so hard it steals the air from my lungs. "I love you, too, baby," I tell her, my voice hoarse and sore from the forceful shout.

  When I finally am able to pull myself out of her body, feeling like it had been hours but knowing it was more like seconds, I look down to see one hell of a sated smile on her sleeping face.

  Not wanting to disturb her, I make quick work of cleaning myself up and grab one of the extra blankets we keep onboard. I hate covering her body from my eyes, but I know she's had an emotionally hard day, and after how hard she just took me, she's worn the hell out.

  I grab my jeans and pull them on before walking back to the living room area, grabbing my phone and forgotten bourbon before settling down on the couch. But the first message I see stops the glass from ever hitting my lips.

  My publicist, Trace, had sent fifteen texts. All of them demanding to know why I wasn't picking up. But the last one is the only one I can focus on. I ignore his words and click the link.

  Where's Mia? Meet Kane Masters' new play toy.

  Fuck!

  God-fucking-dammit. I knew it would turn into something like this when the media found out about us. I didn't lie when I told Willow that I did not intend to hide our relationship, but until recently, I knew she wasn't ready for the shit show that is sure to follow this news. Not only that but, as a fiercely private person, I hate seeing my personal life out there for all to rip apart with their lies. It's so hard to have anything for myself that I perversely loved I was able to keep Willow to myself for so long.

  And now ... now, we're outed as a coup
le--no, a goddamn fucking plaything--and all that privacy is going to fly out the window.

  Fuck!

  Worst of all, Willow has no idea just how bad it is going to get with the media. Not until I tell her everything. Everything I can't even tell her yet because I gave my fucking word.

  Ignoring Trace, I pull up Mia's text screen.

  Kane: We need to talk. I have to tell her, Mia. I know I promised you I wouldn't say anything, and at the time, I agreed it was best but not anymore. I won't lose her because of this.

  Dropping my head back, I say a silent prayer that everything is going to work out and Willow won't leave me for keeping Mia's baby secret from her.

  I WOKE UP FROM ONE of the deepest sleeps I had ever experienced when Kane came to gently let me know we would be landing soon and I needed to come and get my seatbelt on.

  It took me a little while to shake the tiredness from my system. I'm sure a little of that had to do with Kane keeping me up for the last few nights, but I know emotionally today was just tiring.

  "Hey," I tell Kane and press a light kiss to his lips before taking the seat on the other side of the table.

  He looks up from his iPad and gives me a smile.

  "Are you okay?" I question, cocking my head to the side and studying his expression.

  His eyes flash, and I know, regardless of what he says, something is bothering him.

  "I'm fine. I just have some things on my mind."

  "Ohhhhhkay. And you don't feel like you can talk to me about those things?"

  He places his iPad down and leans forward, reaching out and folding his hands over mine. "It's not that, Willow. I just wanted to be able to talk to you when we weren't rushed for time. When I can explain things without having to stop." He sighs. "I didn't want to worry you."

  My skin flashes cold, and a little seed of dread starts to burrow in my gut. What on earth could have happened during the time we've been in that air that has him needing to explain things to me? Or better yet, what would make me have cause for worry?

  And then, the cold flushes through me again when I realize what he could mean. Or more importantly, why he's worried about me.

  "They found out about our relationship?"

  He nods, his expression darkening.

  "And that bothers you?" I continue, trying to field my way through the many things that could be wrong here. I'm not sure how I feel about him being bothered by our relationship becoming common knowledge now that we're being faced with it. He had assured me he wasn't ashamed or hiding our relationship, and I believed him. I know he's immensely private and not broadcasting us is a lot different from intentionally hiding it.

  "That the media knows about our relationship? No. But I know how they work, Willow. They take a grain of truth, a sliver of the privacy I value, and splatter it with whatever lies they can in order to make their money. The truth doesn't pad their pockets, not when it doesn't hold anything sordid."

  I lean back in my seat, my hands falling from his hold. Even though I didn't intentionally pull away from him, I can see the hurt in his eyes.

  "What are they saying?"

  He shakes his head, his shoulders dropping with a loud sigh. "The normal things. Speculating about how serious we are, where we meet, and who the woman in my life is."

  I reach out to take his iPad from the table to see for myself what is being said, but when he notices my intent, he reaches out and grabs it from my grasp. The swiftness in his movements causes me to snap my hand back as if he had physically slapped it. That little seed of dread starting to sprout.

  "Promise me, Willow, that you will just let me take care of this. Let's get to my house and we can sit down, but I don't want you to fill you head with that garbage until we can talk. We need to plan on how we want to address the media with our relationship officially and not just with hypothetical talk about what would happen if they found out. They know, and even though I would normally never address my private life with them, you know how I feel about hiding you. I won't do it. I just need you to let me explain a few things before we decide what to do."

  "Why do I get the impression that there is more going on right now than you're telling me?"

  He unbuckles and kneels down in front of me. "I love you, Willow. Trust in that and trust in me. You know there are things I haven't told you, but I haven't kept them from you for any other reason than I had made a promise to someone that I wouldn't talk about it."

  "Not even to me," I add. I'm not mad about that. I know how important his word is to him, his integrity that his trust is worth something more than just a word. But it still unsettles me. That being said, I think it would be more unsettling if he had no issues breaking the trust he had asked someone to have in him when our relationship started out with me blindly giving him my trust.

  "I'm sorry, baby. When I gave my word, it was before I ever imagined what we have would become a reality. The love we have is the best kind of unexpected, and you have to know how much I hate keeping this from you. I'm telling you, with absolute honesty, that I will tell you everything, but I have to do that without breaking my word. There are too many people who can get hurt, and I refuse to let you be one of them."

  Taking a deep pull of air, I nod. "Okay, Kane. I trust you, and I know you wouldn't keep secrets from me that would hurt me. Before we leave this spot, though, I'm going to ask something of you that I had when we first started this. Please don't make me regret giving you my trust, Kane. I love you more than you'll ever know, but if you're keeping something from me that affects our lives, I deserve to know."

  His jaw works, clenched in frustration, and he runs one hand through his thick hair. "I promise that it isn't anything that will affect us and our lives directly, regardless of what the media is saying."

  The air between us ripples with uneasiness. I can see it in his eyes, the love that he has for me, but I also see the apprehension and worry written over his features.

  "We're in this together, Kane. Just don't shut me out."

  He sighs; one of acceptance and relief that I'm not fighting him on his request to let this be until we get back to his home. "I won't. Come on, love, let's go home."

  Despite the uneasy feeling I had while we were landing, the ride to Kane's Malibu beach house was lovely. William had landed in a small, private airstrip just outside of Santa Monica that Kane owned. A Range Rover similar to the one we had been driving around in while in Georgia and New York was waiting for us, and after Cam and Kane had transferred over our luggage, we began the drive.

  Kane pointed out different locations as we drove, and his hand was always in contact with my body somehow; as if he was worried that I would disappear if he didn't physically know I was with him. The conversation wasn't forced and neither was his affection.

  I wasn't nervous about what was to come. I know that Kane is honorable in his trust and he isn't trying to hurt me. It's just the opposite; he's looking out for me and us. I can't be mad about that.

  I settle into the soft leather under me and rest my head on his shoulder, my hand settling on his hard thigh, and I enjoy the ride. There's no need to consume myself with negativity.

  It has no place today, the day we begin our lives together.

  I must have dozed off because the next thing I hear is Kane cursing next to me.

  "What?" I gasp and jerk to sit up, looking around us. Dusk had settled around us, the darkness of night starting to claw its way free, but the only thing I see is a brightly lit home, a few cars, and a whole lot of nothing.

  Kane's house is set away from the beach. He had told me that in order to maintain his privacy, he had bought land that was high above the jutting rocks of one little butted-out piece of land. Enough area was fenced off between the cliff and trees; we were almost on a little island of our own.

  He had also explained that he has enough security to give the White House a run for its money. So for the life of me, I can't understand what would have set him off. The expression on his face c
oupled with the curses that woke me had me expecting to wake with cameras and reporters in our face.

  "We have company," he says through a clenched jaw.

  "Company?"

  "My family. All of them judging by the cars."

  He points to his right, and I lean forward to look around his body.

  "Okay? And that's a bad thing? I thought you were excited to see your parents."

  I had spoken with Christian and Rebecca Masters a few times in the last few weeks and nothing in those conversations gave me the impression I should be worried about meeting them for the first time.

  His father, just like Kane, has no problem expressing himself, and he's told me each time we've spoken how happy he is that his son is so happy. He's the father I had always wished I had. Open, affectionate, and supportive.

  His mother was hilarious. She opened her heart and let me in as if I was one of her own. I knew from our last phone call that she was looking forward to meeting me as well.

  So seeing Kane upset over his family being here is very unlike him.

  "Kane? Why is this bad?"

  He sighs, frustration and anger coming forward. "Fuck!" His outburst makes me jump, and he turns to me and offers his apologies. "Shit, I'm sorry. I'm not mad they're here ... well, most of them. I'm not upset that they finally get to meet the woman I love, even if I wish we had some time to ourselves. When I said they're all here, I meant all of my family, Willow."

  "Your brothers?" He nods.

  "Kyle?" Again, he gives me a nod. Well, that certainly explains things. I know he's close with his brother Kole, but he's made no secret that things with Kyle are strained. He didn't explain in detail. I could tell it wasn't something he liked to talk about, so I didn't push.

  "I haven't seen him in almost five months, Willow. I have no idea why he's here other than the fact he's trying to play some part of good older brother to my parents, who as far as I know are blissfully unaware that their sons hate each other."

  I scoot over and wrap my arms around him. "Then let's go in there and just ignore him."

  His eyes hold mine, and he looks as if he is about to say something, but when he hears a high-pitched feminine call, his attention moves from me toward his front door.

  I knew from seeing his mother accompany him one year to the Oscars that she was a beautiful woman. Kane favored his mother in looks. He had her same dark brown hair, blue eyes, and thick lips. But that was all he got from his mother. She was what I pictured when I thought of the quintessential mother figure. She was short, plump, and smiled in a way that almost looked unnatural. The love she had shone through her every movement. And right now, that love was rushing down the four stairs that led up to his front porch and right to the car parked in the front circle.