Kylie grinned at him, pleased. “Glad you liked that.”
“More than you can imagine,” he panted, his cock throbbing from the force of his release. He glanced around, looking for something to towel her off with, and when she pulled out a packet of tissues, he chuckled. “I’m glad you’re so handy.”
She laughed. “I’d almost take that as a pun, except I’m pretty sure I didn’t use my hands much.”
He helped her mop up her front, and his cock, and by the time she was able to close her peacoat again, they had a stack of wadded tissue that Kylie stuffed in a plastic bag (found in the back of the limo) and down into her bottomless purse for disposal back at the hotel. Then, she sat next to him on the seat and he pulled her close, nestling her against him.
It felt good to feel her weight against his, to smell her hair, to hear her soft breathing. And as the city skyline of Dallas zipped by, Cade reached for Kylie’s hand and twined her fingers in his.
Being with Kylie felt so good, so very right. It was nothing like his constant stress and unhappiness when he’d thought he’d wanted Daphne. With Kylie? He understood real contentment, real happiness . . . real lust.
Now he just had to convince her that they could make this crazy thing they had permanent.
Then again, judging by the way she’d greeted him tonight? Maybe she was thinking along the same lines he was. Cade grinned to himself and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
SIXTEEN
Kylie enjoyed a week of perfection in her otherwise shit-sandwich life.
The tour ran smoothly—or as smoothly as a tour could run with a manic-depressive junkie at the center of it. Still, Daphne went on stage and sang her heart out every night, so her managers were pleased and money was being made. As long as money was made, all the other complaints just sort of fell by the wayside. Which was a little sad, but to be expected.
Kylie herself was on cloud nine. Were there clouds higher than nine? Maybe she was hanging out on number ten, because damn, she felt good. Her nana’s nursing home bill was almost caught up. The job was fairly predictable, and predictable was good. Cade spirited Kylie away twice more that week for furtive hotel room sex and late-night dinners on the town. And when they couldn’t be together because his business called him away, they constantly texted and sent each other goofy little notes.
She was happy. More than that, she was in love. Even when Daphne was irascible or got cranky when Kylie couldn’t quite cover one of her many bruises and make it look natural, it didn’t faze Kylie. This was just a passing thing. It’d get better, and the tour would be over in another two months. Surely she could hold out for two months.
“Not that shade, Fat Marilyn,” Daphne said peevishly, knocking a tube of lipstick out of Kylie’s hands before she could add the color to her makeup palette. “How many times do I have to tell you? I want red. God, are you fucking stupid?”
Kylie bent over and picked up the tube before it rolled under the makeup station, trying not to lose her temper. It was clear to anyone that Daphne was having a bad day. Even as she sat in Kylie’s makeup chair, she was sweating. Kylie kept having to wipe her down to apply makeup, which didn’t make things easy. She set the tube of tomato red lipstick back into her caddy. “Show me which color you want, then,” she said, keeping her voice patient. It was like dealing with a child some days.
Daphne pointed at a terra-cotta shade. “Like that, but with more red.” She pointed at a purple. “Mix it with that.”
“That’s not going to make a red—”
“Then it won’t be fucking red. Just fucking do it, all right? Who’s the goddamn star around here?” She picked up Kylie’s sudoku puzzle and began to fan herself with the paper. “Christ, it’s broiling in here. Someone turn on the air.”
“I’ll get on it,” Snoopy said, jumping up and running off. Kylie guessed that she’d been waiting for an excuse to escape her irascible boss for a few minutes.
“All right,” Kylie said, pleasant through gritted teeth. “Reddish brown and . . . purple.” She picked up the tube and used her tiny makeup spatula to dab small amounts of both horrible colors on her makeup mirror, then used a brush to dab the two together. The resulting color looked rather . . . toxic, but hey. What Daphne wanted, Daphne got. “Part for me?”
Daphne parted her lips and tilted her head back, and Kylie noted with a bit of concern that she was clammy with sweat again, a bead rolling down one temple. Her lips were dry and cracked, too. Worst of all was her breath. Daphne’s breath smelled like something had died in her mouth, and Kylie had to hold her own breath to lean in close enough to paint her mouth.
“There,” Kylie said when she was done. “What do you think of that color?” She leaned back and let Daphne look in the big, lit mirror. Her phone buzzed with an incoming text, and she peeked at it, unable to resist looking.
Cade: Thinking about you, sweetheart. I’ve got your panties out and I’m daydreaming about the taste of you. Can’t wait for tonight. You gonna surprise me with another outfit?
Blushing, Kylie tossed her phone in her open purse at the far end of the table. She’d text him back a response as soon as Daphne got out of her chair.
Daphne perused her bruised looking mouth in the mirror. “This looks like shit. Not gonna lie.” She snickered. “Maybe we should start over with a different color.”
“All right,” Kylie said, getting cleansing wipes and handing them to Daphne. Someone knocked at the door at the far end of the room—the one marked STAFF ONLY. Kylie looked over. No one was rushing over to answer it.