Bone Deep (12 page)

Chapter Fourteen

An entire week and a half since the last letter. And not seeing those words, that shaky handwriting, is making
it ridiculously easy to imagine I’m not who I really am, Cambria’s not using me as a diversion from thinking about her mom, and my dad won’t actually be standing face-to-face with me tomorrow.

It’s the closest to
normal
I’ve felt in a year.

A resid
ual haze of onions and peppers drifts down the hallway as I come out of my room, followed by Jamon’s booming voice and Wrenn’s laughter. It’s the third night he’s been over for dinner this week, and the third time I’ve wondered why the two of them don’t just forget about my dad and make a life of their own. Jamon’s much closer to Wrenn’s age than my father. They seem to get along well enough, too.

The kitchen grows quiet as I enter.
Wrenn, leaning over the counter, skims her glazed eyes over me—up my jeans, across my red T-shirt.

“
Wanna join us?” She points to her half-empty glass of wine. “We’re celebrating.”

I tip my head with the most convincing look of bemusement and say, “Is it your birthday?” She snatches the dish towel from behind her and hurls it at
my head, smiling.

“You look nice. Where you off to?”

Jamon points the tip of his beer bottle in my direction. “He combed his hair. Classic indication that it’s a date.”

I roll my eyes, even though he’s somewhat right.

Wrenn sips her wine. “Well, it’s about time. Who’s the lucky girl? You seeing Jess again?”

“No date. No Jess. Just going downtown with some friends.” Or one friend. I grab the keys from the table ignoring their teasing stares.

“Don’t stay out too late,” Wrenn says as I turn to leave. “Tomorrow’s a big day.”

Yeah, s
o big I feel like I’m going to
pop
.

~*~

There’s nothing more entertaining than watching the skinny shadow of a girl slip out from a second-story window onto the roof, inch toward the edge in small, uneasy steps, hang by her finger
tips from the eve and…drop.

I push open the passenger door as Cambria runs across the lawn and down the sidewalk, brushing smudges of dust from her black tank top. She sinks into the seat beside me and lets out a deep breath.

I reach over her for the seat belt, my lips so close to her ear I feel her shiver. “I would pay money to see that again.”

She giggles. “How ’
bout you convince my brother that his little sister isn’t so little anymore and can go out whenever she wants.” Then she tilts her head, frowning. “I said to wear black.”

True, she did. But the only black shirt I have is faded with a bleach stain the shape of a limp dick on the collar. Not exactly appropriate for wherever it is she’s taking me. “What’s the big deal with black anyway?”

Leaning closer, she runs her fingers from my wrist up to where my sleeve sits. The tip of her finger slips beneath my shirt and draws a squiggly line up to my shoulder and, damn, it’s just my arm—
my arm
—but I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smothering her with my mouth. Then she smirks.

“You’ll see.
After we make a quick detour.”

Above the trees, the sky is transforming. Traces of daylight are bleeding into the pitch black of night, turning the middle of the sky a deep blue. The
comfort of sitting beside her should scare me. Or, at the very least, remind me that one of these days I’m going to have to come clean with her. Although, the girl sitting next to me in black jeans that show off the slight swell of her muscular thighs is making it difficult to think logically.

I drive where she direct
s me to drive, park where she tells me to park, and open the door for her because it’s the polite thing to do. Or because I want to be closer to her. Whichever.

“Your dorm?
” I say, pushing open the door. “That reminds me… Why did I not pick you up here?”

“
My brother…” Her back is to me, but even so I can tell those two words score up her throat. “Remember I said he wasn’t in a great place right now?” I nod, even though she can’t see. “He’s…um, yeah, sometimes he just needs someone to look after him, make sure he’s, you know, acting normal.” With that she turns, eyes focused on mine; they look so sad. She wants to sleep here. To be a normal, college girl—go to parties, hang out with friends, giggle with her roommate. And because of her brother and whatever his issues are, she can’t.

Clearly, it’s why she’s hanging out with me. I swallow the bitter thought away and gesture around the room, to the surplus of clothes spread out over the bed opposite hers. “Does this mean
Leesa won’t be back for a while?”

“Maybe the entire night.” Cambria steps up to me. Her hand settles on my waist, fingertips slipping under the hem of my shirt with a trail of tingles sk
ittering across my flesh. I clutch my legs through the thin layer of pocket fabric, waiting. Watching.

“And you brought me here, why?” I think I know the reason. Or…I wish to every god in the universe that I know what she wants to do. We haven’t had sex, yet. Not because I haven’t wanted to—Lord knows I would be one lucky
sonofabitch to have this gorgeous girl in my bed. But because I want her to want it. More than just physically, or as a distraction.

Arms circle my neck
, and her body eases closer to mine, warmth radiating off her skin like a hot water bottle. I press back, craving to feel her against me, but also waiting for her to make the first move. Which she does when she slips her hands down my shoulders and removes mine from my pockets.

“I think you know why…” She guides
them around the back of her and presses them onto her tight ass. “And I think…” Fingers start with the buckle of my belt. My heartbeat sinks lower. “…more than anything…,” she continues, “you really…
really
want to participate.”

I take her by the shoulders, sp
in, and back her body into the door. My mouth on hers is as much of an answer as I can give. Her lips part, allowing me in without a request. Kisses quickly become fast and hard and, before I know it, she’s climbing up me. I leverage her against the door as she wraps her legs around my waist. Gone is the fragile, death-consumed girl I met a few weeks ago. This girl is insistent. Demanding. And impossible to say no to.

My lips move down her neck, and I slip the strap of her tank top off her shoulder, dragging my mouth over the sweet-smelling skin. Jesus, she tastes like heaven. Holding her with one arm, I yank down the neckline of her shirt and nip at the mounds of flesh spilling out of her bra. Tiny as she is, she’s sure got plenty here.

A whimper purrs off her lips as I tug down the edge of her bra and suck her nipple into my mouth. Hands tunnel through my hair. Another whimper, this one louder. “Krister,” she says shakily, “I want you. Tonight. Here. Right now.”

My lips still. A
nd the word “no” muffles along her skin.

Fuck, did I say
that out loud?
As I lift my gaze to hers, a tiny o forms on her mouth, a dip between her eyebrows. I don’t know why but her worry sends a bead of satisfaction budding in my chest. This isn’t just about her; she wants me to want her. My tongue draws a slow circle around her nipple, my fingers finding her other. The hard nub presses back into the pad of my thumb, and I say, “Tell me one thing. Is it just
this
you need?” I loosen my grip around her just a tad until her weight lowers onto the fly of my jeans. She inhales a tiny gasp at the pressure. “Or is it something more?”

Whether it’s the anticipation of her answer or the fact that she’s got me so worked up, but it suddenly feels like the room is shrinking. My eyes find hers
, fingers trailing over her skin.

Slowly, she
cups my face, and a stream of chills skim the feather touch of her fingers on my skin. “Krister,” she says lowly, smoothing her knuckles down my just-shaved cheeks. “I need
you to put your hands on me. I need
you to kiss me until I can’t breathe. I
need
…you. All of you.”

It’s funny, the bubble of happiness her words send through me.
“No one else?”

A laugh bumbles off her
lips. “That’s what this is about?” I stay perfectly still, not saying a word; I want to know her answer. After a moment, her face goes all serious, and she takes a deep breath. “It would be a phenomenon if there were another person on this planet who could do what you do to me.”

Ever so slightly, my
lips tilt up. “And what do I do to you?”

Take away the pain?

Make it easier to breathe?

I hope both.

She nods over my shoulder and says, “Carry me to the bed and find out.”

Her
eyes blaze into mine for one single breath, and then I plunge toward her neck. Teeth nip at her skin in a path over her shoulder as I strip off her shirt and toss it to the floor. She closes her eyes as my hands slink around her back, fingertips digging into her skin as the word “beautiful” plays on repeat from my mouth. Gently, I cup her face in my hands and lean in closer to her ear.

“Cambria, open your eyes.” She
does, and then we’re face-to-face, her eyebrows tipped, forehead slightly wrinkled.

“
Please don’t reject me,” she whispers. “I… I—”

I pull
back an inch. “Reject you?” The incredulous raise of my voice washes away her look of worry. A beat of silence, then I cradle my hand around the back of her neck. “Baby, I couldn’t reject you if there was a gun pointed at my head.”

“What is it then? Why did you pull away? Again?” Then
her eyes widen, like a thought suddenly occurs to her, and she says, “Wait. Is this your…? Are you a virgin?”

I throw my head back with a laugh, and she lifts a tentative, yet possibly a tad hopeful smile. A ridiculous question, but one I have no words to answer. Not unless I want to explain the whole I-feel-guilty-as-shit wave that continues to crash into me every time I’m with her.

I shake off the thought and find that panty-dropping smile I know, in fact, will have her panties on the floor in two-point-five seconds then say, “I’ll let you decide that after we’re finished.” My mouth moves closer, lips brushing hers but not in a kiss. The tips of my fingers dip between her breasts, trace a line up her collarbone, down her sides, and across her stomach. Chills follow my touch, and she closes her eyes again, as if her brain’s unable to process the feel of my skin on hers and the sight of me at the same time.

Her
head rolls back, and I catch it in my palm, cup her face, and whisper her name again. Her eyes open to my mouth warring with words I don’t know how to say. She can’t close her eyes, not know
who
exactly is about to rest her body on an altar and worship the hell out of it.

She
starts to pull away, likely to ask what’s wrong, but I tense my fingers along her jaw and murmur against her lips, “Please…” The catch in my voice is louder than cracking glass, and by the slight flare of her eyes, she heard it, too. “Don’t close your eyes,” I say. “Don’t stop looking at me.”

She
says nothing, just stares.

“
Please
.” It’s not teasing like she sometimes does with me. To my utter lameness, this word is heartbreak and sadness and desperation all rolled into one, heavy-as-a-weight syllable, and it’s all she can do to nod speechlessly and help me out of my shirt. She does as I request—doesn’t stop looking—as I carry her to the bed and lower her to the mattress. She watches as I step out of my jeans then peel hers from her legs. Wearing only my boxers, I spread her knees apart and crawl up between them, propping one hand beside her head, the other smoothing a line across her forehead and down the side of her face then farther to rest just above her heart.

Seeing the intense, yet glazed, glow to her eyes, I could pounce now. But there’s something else I want to know.

“Tell me one more thing,” I say, eyes darting from my hand to her face. “Why do you want to be with me?”

She
tips her brow at me, running her fingers softly over my face. “Krister, what is it you’re looking for? What do you want me to tell you? That I don’t want to be with anyone else but you? Because I—”

The question was stupid, her answer ridiculously clear by the slight gasps that accompany her words as my fingers trail south. It’s enough of an answer I need. My mouth covering
hers silences her words. My tongue slides into her mouth, and all thoughts disappear. Insistent and warm, her lips meld to mine as I tuck my hand beneath her and unhook her bra. One strap down. Two. The bra hits the floor, and I smile.

“This is what I was looking for. You. Naked beneath me.”
I take her nipple into my mouth and whisper against her skin, “Dear Jesus, you are pure fucking perfection, Cambria.”

Weight presses
on my hand, pushing it farther and farther down her stomach. My body squirms with the thought of touching her down there again—of doing much, much more.