One Hot Secret by Sarah J. Brooks

Chapter 35

Grace

I look from Kyle to his mother, and I’m at a loss for words. My heart goes out to Kyle. I want to gather him in my arms and hold him tight. I can’t imagine how painful it must be to be told that the man you thought was your father all your life is, in fact, not your father.

Kyle covers his face with his hands and then drops them. He stares at his mother as if trying to understand her. She doesn’t seem to realize the magnitude of what she has dumped on her son in the space of fewer than five minutes.

Adrian Martin. Everyone knows him, even I, who doesn’t follow celebrity news. The more I think about it, the more I see the resemblance between Mr. Martin and Kyle before his accident.

I move from my position on the couch to where Kyle is seated and sit down next to him.

“He never knew that he had a son?” Kyle asks his mother.

“The only person who could have told him was me, and I didn’t,” his mother says casually as though it’s totally reasonable not to inform a man that he has sired a child.

My heart expands painfully at the expression of loneliness and confusion on Kyle’s face.

Kyle stands up abruptly. “We have to go.”

His mother looks momentarily confused. “So soon? I was hoping we could have dinner together and catch up.”

I’m stunned at the complete lack of comprehension on her part.

“Another time, Mom. I have a lot to process today. You just turned my whole world upside down, and I need time to deal with it.”

She stands up with a look of concern. “I’d always promised myself that I would tell you the truth if your father died before me. I know he was mean to you, and it wasn’t fair for you to keep wondering why your own father would behave that way toward his only son. I hope I made the right decision.” She twists her hands together and looks at Kyle pleadingly. Whatever she did in the past, the one clear thing is that she loves Kyle. She just loved her husband a little bit more.

“It’s fine, Mom,” Kyle says, sounding tired and defeated.

We don’t speak all the way home, and when we enter the house and shut the door behind us, he pulls me into his arms and cries on my shoulder. My heart breaks into a million pieces as I hold him tight. There’s absolutely nothing I can do to take the pain away. He slowly gets his emotions under control, and I take his hand and lead him to the living room.

“I’ll be back,” I tell him.

In the drink cabinet in the formal dining room, I get a bottle of whiskey, ice cubes, and two glasses. I carry them to the living room and pour both of us a drink. Kyle takes his gratefully and drains it in one gulp.

I pour him another one.

“I’m an adult. Such news should not affect me,” he says. “But it does. I feel as if the rug has been pulled from under my feet. Or like a boat at sea with no compass for navigation.”

“Our parents give us our sense of identity,” I tell him softly.

“The moment she said it, though, it made sense. So much fell into place. I sensed that my father didn’t like me, let alone love me, and I couldn’t figure out why. I provided them with a lifestyle that made them the envy of all their friends. They took vacations whenever they wanted.”

The anguish in his voice wants me to hold him again, but I know that he needs to talk. It’s painful to listen to, but it’s not about me now. He needs me, and I have to be strong for him.

“Does it help to know that you did your best and treated him the way a son would and should?” I ask him.

“I guess so. I’m glad I never found out when he was alive. I don’t think I can mourn for him. I have absolutely no good memories of him.”

“I’m sorry, honey.” I feel so helpless.

“It’s fine. I’m glad the mystery has been solved, albeit too late,” Kyle says.

“It’s not too late. Your biological father is still alive,” I point out to him.

A stricken look comes over his features. I know what the problem is. That is one problem that I’m very familiar with. A fear of rejection.

“My mother should have been the one to tell him.”

“But she didn’t, and now, because you know the truth, you should tell him.” I can tell from the look on Kyle’s face what the answer will be.

“I think my years of needing a father are gone. I don’t need him, and I doubt that Adrian Martin needs his life upset by learning that he has an adult son.”

“I wonder if he ever got married?” I say, trying to search my memory bank.

“I don’t think so. Last I heard, he was happily retired in some ranch in Southern California.”

I don’t voice my thoughts, but I think any man would be happy to learn they sired a son. Even if not, he deserves to know and have the opportunity to choose whether he wants to get to know him or not.

***

I tag along with Kyle in the next few days as he helps his mother make a myriad of decisions about the funeral. The funeral director is a wonderful woman named Elizabeth, and she makes the process as smooth as she can.

“Do you think your father would like it if we sang a few hymns?” Kyle’s mother asks him and stares at her blankly.

It turns out that neither of them knows whether he likes hymns, and so they settle for two of them. I never knew what a nightmare it is when someone dies. You have to choose a casket, readings for the service, flowers, and a myriad of other things.

I admire Kyle because he could easily have sent his PA to do it, but he chose to be there personally to support his mother. I try my best but seeing as I did not know the man, I can’t really offer much input apart from just being present.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Bryce,” I tell her while hugging her when she breaks down for the third time that day.

When she stops crying, she looks at me as if noticing me for the first time. “You’re a wonderful girl. Please call me Lilly; after all, I’m going to be your mother-in-law soon.”

My face heats up at her bluntness. Thankfully, the funeral director asks something else, and that moment passes.

After we are done, Kyle’s mother is tired and distraught, and she just wants to go home. Ethan drives her home first. She’s sitting in the front passenger seat, and before she gets out of the car, she turns back to address Kyle.

“I forgot to tell you. Adrian called me last night to convey his condolences. I thought it was a sweet gesture.”

Silence follows her declaration.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says and gets out of the car.

Kyle’s breathing changes. We are both shellshocked at Lilly’s casual announcement. I glance at Kyle, but his facial expression is unreadable. I feel a headache coming on, and it’s not even my decision to make.

At home, we both head to the shower, and in an unspoken agreement, we get into the shower together. We stand under the jets of warm water, holding each other tightly without speaking. Then Kyle cups my face and kisses me as if he’s almost drowning and I’m the plank of wood that is keeping him afloat.

I run my hands over his chest and shoulders, my need for him growing with every second. His hands drop to my hips and ass, pulling me against him. His cock sits between us, hard as steel. My legs tremble as arousal takes hold of me, and my body comes alive from his touch.

“I need you so badly,” Kyle murmurs in between kisses.

“I’m here.”

He cups my breasts and teases my nipples with his fingers, pinching and palming them. I can feel his need for me, and knowing what he needs, I turn around and place my hands flat on the wall, inviting him to take me.

Kyle grips my hips and pulls me back toward him, and the next thing I feel is his tongue teasing my clit. It’s so unexpected and erotic that I start to orgasm a few seconds later.

“Spread your legs, sweetheart,” he growls.

I moan as he rubs the head of his cock up and down my slit, teasing my clit and making me beg for it. I want him inside me with a powerful need that frightens me.

“Please, Kyle.”

He grunts in reply, but he does as I ask and pushes his cock in, inch by inch. I close my eyes as my walls give in to the pressure, and his cock goes in deeper and deeper. He moves in and out in slow, languid movements. My frustration grows as I try to urge him to move faster with my hips.

“Faster,” I finally say.

He chuckles in response. “You’re a tiger in bed, but no one can tell by looking at you.”

“Call me whatever you want, but do as I say.” My words come out in a pant.

He inhales sharply and grips my hips tighter. He thrusts into me hard and fast, and I cry out every time he buries his cock to the hilt and hits a sensitive spot.

“Oh God, yes,” I cry out.

“You’re so sweet and tight,” Kyle says, his voice rugged.

He keeps up the pace, pounding me deeper and faster. The music in me grows louder and faster. I’m so close. I feel his hand on my clit, rubbing it, and that’s the last straw for me.

My orgasm is loud and explosive. I scream Kyle’s name as it tears through my body. I shake and tremble, and my pussy clenches around Kyle’s cock.

He lets out a series of grunts, and his thrusts become quick jabs.

“Fuck, Grace,” he growls before he comes, flooding me with his release. He pumps through it, and then he comes to a complete stop. He waits for a few seconds and then withdraws his cock and turns me around to face him.

I throw my hands around his neck, and he holds me tight.

“Thank you. I needed that. I needed you,” he whispers into my ear.

“I needed you too,” I say.

We move into the shower spray and wash each other, getting rid of the day’s grime. Then, wrapped in large white towels, we leave the bathroom.