Crimson Moon (23 page)

My muffled gasps came out shallow as my body erupted from the inside. My head flew back as my hands clenched his skin, fingernails piercing the warm flesh on his back.

His body tensed and he thrust deeply, moving faster and then harder, entering my body with smooth and powerful strokes. His tanned skin was slick with sweat, the muscles along his back trembling.

"God, yes,” he hollered, body shuddering and hips grinding. Liquid warmth spread inside my body, erupting within as he found release. His breathing remained uneven as he collapsed on me, keeping the brunt of his weight on his elbows.

When he lifted away, brushing random strands of hair away from my face, he asked, “Are you all right?"

"I think so.” I blushed, unable to look away from his ever changing eyes. The light blue was fading, dark indigo taking over. “Are you?"

"I'm more than all right.” He smiled and laughed, raining kisses across my face and neck and then flipping over. He lifted me into his arms and carried me to the crystal clear rain water, spinning my body around as the heated liquid surrounded us and lapped at our shoulders.

He pulled me into his chest and I wound my legs around his waist, twining my arms around his neck. I pressed my body against his, settling against him and sighing in bliss.

"Shit.” He kissed my shoulder and shifted uncomfortably.

"What's the matter?"

His arms squeezed my waist and brought my bottom lower, allowing me to feel the cause of his discomfort. He grinned rakishly at the moan that slid past my lips when his swollen length nudged my bottom, irises shifting from light to dark.

"I want you again."

"It's okay.” I leaned back and returned his grin with one of my own. “I want you, too."

He smiled, and when his lips descended, I met him halfway.

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We returned to the Blackney home after our extended skinny dip in the rock quarry. I blushed when his parents knowing faces greeted us as we came through the door disheveled and wet, well aware that they knew what had transpired between us. We took a seat in the living room, visiting with his family.

I shared a few stories about my hometown when they inquired about my family, steering clear of the topic of the Father I was yet to meet. Caleb pretended to be hurt when I informed him I actually did know how to shoot pool, and rather well. He demanded a rematch, and I agreed, but only after I retrieved my cue from home.

Beverly cried when it was time to leave, but she tried to contain her hurt as much as possible. Chris was better, but his face remained marred with concern. Sammie was the hardest. Her huge eyes—so like her sibling's—brimmed with unshed tears as she made him promise to return soon. They told me they would be waiting for me, too, insisting their home was mine as well.

They waved from the porch as we drove away. Chris had his arm around Beverly and she had her arms wrapped around Sammie. We waved back, Caleb's happy smile disappearing for the first time. I undid my safety belt and slid next to him, breaking my rule just this once, until we reached the gate.

"They're great,” I told him after I'd buckled in.

"They are.” He stared at me, his smile returning. “And they love you, just as I said they would."

I laughed. “Sammie's a riot."

"Sammie is turning Dad grey prematurely."

"Speaking of that, your parents look so young! Is that courtesy of good genes?” His father only looked a few years older than him, not decades.

"We age slower than normal people. It's one of the perks, I suppose.” He grinned at me.

"So you've discovered the fountain of youth?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Something like that."

The drive back was shorter and we arrived back at the cabin in the late afternoon. The sun had already begun the descent in the sky, glimmering from behind trees. Caleb opened my door, holding it wide as I climbed out. His arms came around my waist, pulling me into his chest.

"Thank you,” he said softly, lowering his face and kissing me tenderly.

"For what.” I breathed against his mouth, opening my eyes and staring into liquid pools of heavenly blue.

"For coming with me today, for meeting my family.” His voice rippled, husky and deep. “For making love to me."

I smiled, pressing against him. “Today
was
perfect. Wasn't it?"

We walked up the porch hand in hand, opening the door and stepping inside. The tantalizing smell of food drifted from the kitchen.

"Welcome back!” Sarah yelled, appearing from the living room. “We made dinner this time. Hope you're hungry!"

We followed her to the kitchen. The table had been set and covering every inch of available space was food—fried pork chops, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, green beans, and dinner rolls.

"Wow. This looks wonderful, Sarah."

"Definitely, thank you,” Caleb agreed, wrapping an arm around my waist and nuzzling my nape.

Sarah's smile wavered and she flared her nose, staring at us perceptively. She recovered when I blushed and shook her head, smiling again and saying, “It's the least I could do."

"Don't let her lie, it's my favorite and she lives to please me.” Derek strutted into the room, cocky and full of himself.

"Oh please.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Come on, sit down!"

We sat together. I put moderate portions on my plate, still stuffed with chicken and dumplings, but the rest of them piled it high. I watched as Derek sucked the food in like a werewolf vacuum cleaner. His table manners still not improved, shoveling it in until his cheeks bulged. Sarah didn't notice, she was blissfully happy, laughing and joking with Caleb.

"Derek, Emma's been holding out on us. She's been playing pool since she could see over the table. Her Grandmother entered her into a youth league when she was just a kid."

Caleb smiled when I hung my head, groaning. So much for waiting until I had my cue.

"Oh shit yeah, revenge baby!” Derek grinned, slapping his hands together and rubbing them briskly. “You and me—tonight."

"I'll tell you what,” I offered slowly. “I'll play, but only under this condition. If I win, this revenge stuff is over. We're even."

"I would say no way, but since this is pool we're talking about, why not?” He grinned arrogantly.

When dinner was over, it was directly to the table. I sorted through the rack, trying to pick a solid cue. I didn't have my glove so I'd have to settle for swiping my hand against my jeans. The cue I eventually chose was Caleb's. It was a McDermott, just like my own, but much more expensive and a bit heavier. The ivory and jade inlay was beautiful against the brown and black wood, the leather wrap familiar in my hand.

"Pick your game,” Derek taunted, slapping the rack onto the felt.

"Nine ball,” I decided immediately.

He racked them, giving me first break. I chalked up and got comfortable. I didn't have the chance to test the felt so I broke safely. The table was fast and I sank three off the break. I looked over the table, holding back a smile. It was easy to run. None of the balls were locked up and all were clear of the rails. I cleaned them off one by one as Derek watched in disbelief.

Caleb was grinning from ear to ear.

"Hell no.” Derek shook his head when the nine ball was pocketed. “I want to play straight eight."

He racked again with me breaking. I knew the felt would carry and I kept it on the table, sinking two solids and one stripe. Since the eight tied up with a skinny and thick on the rail, I decided to play it safe.

I cleared out my balls, drawing the cue back on my last shot and bringing it back down the table. I banked my stripe and shot the eight down the rail, stopping short of the pocket, locked with one of Derek's. He'd have to clear his out and break it free to win. If he could do that, he deserved the game.

He cleared his balls, attempting to break the eight apart on his last shot. The cue bumped it but not enough to move it clear of his. He was forced to try and cross bank, bringing the ball to the corner pocket at a backward angle. He missed, the cue resting toward the center of the table. The only shot without scratching was a long bank, hitting the eight off the side rail and pocketing it in the corner down the table. I called my pocket and lined it up. I put bottom on the ball, hoping the draw would keep the cue from the pocket, and took my shot.

It sank and I smiled at Derek as Caleb erupted. Sarah clapped her hands, cheering.

"She kicked your ass!” Caleb ran over, lifting me up and swinging me around. I struggled to keep his cue safe, holding it aloft with my arm.

"What the fuck man!” Derek laughed too. “We have got to take her down to Darryl's. Can you imagine the money we'd clear? We'd warm them up and then she'd take them down!"

"I was never one for hustling,” I admitted, blushing.

"Fuck that,” Derek huffed, shaking his head. “We'd make a killing."

We played several games, Caleb and Derek alternating. Caleb was a better shot than Derek, taking his time and looking ahead. He beat me the first two times but I got him the third. He didn't gloat, seemingly happy that I was as competitive as he was.

When it seemed like Sarah was beyond bored, I recommended a movie. I went into the kitchen to make popcorn, pulling down the box of movie theater butter. Sarah walked into the kitchen behind me, pulling down two large bowls.

"You play very well,” she said.

"There isn't much to do in a small town. You bowl or you shoot pool. And I never did care for bowling."

"I don't care for either myself,” she confided.

We popped four bags, putting two into each of the large plastic bowls. Caleb and Derek already had the lights dimmed, sitting at opposite ends of the couch.

On the screen, to no surprise, was another horror movie. This one I recognized, as they had chosen a classic—Halloween. They kicked up the volume, activating the surround sound speakers. I was guessing they tested this movie before and it didn't hurt their ears as much, which was odd, considering the high piercing shrill that filled the room whenever Michael Meyers stalked his victims.

Sarah and Derek cuddled together, her head against his shoulder and his arms wrapped possessively over her legs draped over his knees. I was happy they'd decided to make it work, hopeful that things would change for them. If anyone deserved to be happy in love—they did.

During the movie I sat as close to Caleb as possible, wrapping my arm around his waist and sighing contentedly as his fingers wound along my hair and down my back.

Contemplating tomorrow was both exciting and upsetting. I wanted to see Grandma. I wanted Caleb to meet her. I wanted to go home again. But if I could freeze everything, I would. I didn't want the day after that to happen.

The more I thought about the trip, the more concerned I became. They wanted me to come to them in an attempt to persuade me to join them. I gathered that from Sam. But who were ‘they’ exactly, and would they graciously accept my refusal? Would there be veiled strings attached I was unaware of? Would there be a hidden price to pay?

So many questions, and no answers until I arrived, making the entire situation so much worse.

Then, there was Caleb.

He'd refrained from mentioning anything about my leaving. I left it alone as well, giving him the opportunity to broach the subject with me if he was so inclined. But I could sense his edginess.

The movie went off and Derek and Sarah made excuses to go to bed early. Caleb asked if our shooting a few more games would be a problem and Derek grinned.

"We said we needed to go to bed early, not to go to sleep."

Sarah blushed, losing her composure momentarily. They walked upstairs holding hands and we went to the table. I racked the balls, placing the eight ball into the middle, tightening and bracing them together with my thumbs. I pulled the rack away and tucked it on top of the light fixture above.

"You truly are amazing, Emma.” Caleb positioned himself to break, staring at me.

"What makes you say that?” I smiled, crossing my arms over my chest.

He broke the balls, sending them in all directions. He sank two of each and looked over the table, deciding on solids or stripes.

"You care about other people, you're smart, you're a pool shark.” He looked away from the table and stared at me. “And you're incredibly beautiful."

I blushed and he smiled, returning to the table, taking his shot. I played terribly the next two games, too rattled by his praise. No one ever thought of me like that. I pulled it back together in the end, beating him two straight. He smiled proudly each time.

Before we went to bed, I excused myself, washing my face and brushing my hair and teeth. I came into the bedroom and he was there, waiting.

I went into the closet, cracking the door behind me and changing into one of his shirts. The laundry basket was full but I wouldn't have to ask where the washer or dryer was. We'd be gone tomorrow.

I pushed the thought from my mind.

I climbed under the covers and laid my head on the pillow, facing him. I traced his face with my fingers, burning each crevice into my memory. He closed his eyes and I touched his eyebrows and lashes, brushing my fingers down his nose and my thumb along his bottom lip.

When he opened his eyes again, I simply stared into them, the most devastating blue I'd ever seen. He reached for me as he raised his head off the pillow. His hand wrapped into my hair and along my neck and he craned his head, eyes open as our lips met.

"I love your eyes,” I whispered against his mouth.

"Mine pale in comparison to yours.” He leaned in, kissing my nose.

"They are my Mom's eyes—like you have your Dad's."

"Do you know if they changed with her mood?"

I felt my face flush at his perception. “You noticed that? I think they did."

"When you're angry or upset, they turn brown. When you're happy, or with me like this, they're green.” He brushed his fingers along my temple, threading his fingers through my hair.

"When did you know about us, Caleb?” I asked quietly.