Page 42 of Until Kendal
I hoped this meant she felt something for me too. However, I offered my hand, and for one second, she didn’t move. Then she curled her fingers into mine, and we walked to the bedroom. I would give her what she wanted—if I could.
As I closed the door, she lifted my shirt and sent little kisses all over me. My body tingled as I led her to the bed and stripped. She climbed up as I dropped my pants. Part of me wanted nothing more than to take her and pretend we were one.
However, as her lips met mine again, and steam made my toes curl, I stood. I couldn’t. “I love you. I can’t turn that off because you don’t like it.”
A tear rushed down her face. She nodded then kissed me again. Somehow this felt different. She held me tighter, like she needed me. At least it felt like it.
Her kiss was deeper. And my body was hard. I reached for a condom, though I wanted to give her all of me, and pushed inside her. Like we were one, she found my rhythm fast, and her eyes rolled backward as she found her orgasm. I joined her as she had all of me—heart, soul, and my body.
After, almost as if she were in a dream, she whispered more to herself, “I love you too.”
My heart pounded, and I prayed she meant that.
ChapterThirty-Four
Kendal
The sun shone, and I sat up as Joel still slept. His bed was warm. The sheets were soft cotton and probably a high thread count. And unlike my old life in Tennessee, where I woke my quiet apartment, where nothing happened, even the air had energy here. Or it was me.
I had hurt Joel. I'd never wanted to. But my heart thumped, and I couldn’t sleep anymore. Somehow, I needed to make up to him for last night.
So I went out to his kitchen and made breakfast. I even found the flour and decided to make flatbread, which didn’t need yeast to grow.
I also went and checked on my mom, but that only made me lower my head more. After I returned to the kitchen and was almost finished with the round pan bread, he came out, wearing a blue T-shirt. My lips curved higher. “Joel, good morning.”
I put the plate of bread on the table, covered it, and found the eggs. He met my gaze, and my skin pulsated with awareness.
"Good morning,” he said, staring at me.
I lifted my chin. “So it’s not room service, but I made breakfast for us.”
He came over, wiped flour from my cheek, and kissed it. “How’s your mom?”
I let out a sigh. “She’s hiding in her room. She doesn’t want you to see her.”
He pressed his hand over his heart like he was offended. “Why?”
I nodded. He’d been amazing to us, but I said, “I told her you wouldn't care, but she only wants you to see her at her best.”
He left the kitchen. My eyes widened in shock. He'd never left without a word. My entire body tensed, but he went to our bedroom, not toward my mom.
So I put the drinks into his silver carafes then poured orange juice. He came out with his phone. “I’m hiring her a nurse if that’s okay, just till she’s better," he said as he texted. "She’ll need to eat and rest.”
I nodded. “Let me tell her.”
I fixed her a tray so she would eat at least, and he took it from me to carry it. As we walked, he glanced at both cups I'd put on my mother's tray. “Did you make tea and coffee?”
“Yes.”
He tugged on the teabag. “I’ll have to show you how to make Persian tea. It’s not made this way.”
I had no idea how to make fancy tea, but I would happily learn. “How is it different?”
“It’s more delicious to me than coffee.” He knocked on the door.
My mother called out, and he handed me the tray as I said, “I’ll try it then.”
“Sounds good,” he said, holding the door for me.
