Head Over Wheels (Steamy New Adult Romance) (30 page)

F
ollowing Pete and Casey, the Wrangler crept up the driveway. The Escalade sailed in behind us. Derek idled his vehicle in front of the garage, stuck his head out the window, yelling, "Open the door, Pete. I'm pulling her in. This baby's been garaged since day one. I'll have my head handed to me if I bring her back with even a scratch."

"It's full of stuff," Pete replied. "Your vehicle will be safe in the driveway, Derek."

"Yeah," I said, walking around the Wrangler, "Like someone's gonna come running out of the woods and steal it? We're probably the only humans within fifty miles." I shuddered, suddenly missing Manhattan like crazy. Then the thought struck me:
What else could come running out of the woods? Or creeping would be even worse.

We gathered on the hardened mud driveway, speechless, heads rotating every which way.

"What are we looking at?" I said. "There's nothing around but mountains and trees."

"You've got a point, Kit Kat," Pete laughed, "let's check out the inside of the shack."

"I wouldn't call this a shack, bro," said Bill, "this is the biggest cabin I've ever seen."

"It's not a cabin," said Emma, "it's an A-frame. It's so rustic. I love it."

I stood back, admiring the fieldstone foundation, wraparound decking, and the suspended chimes that greeted us when a breeze kicked up. The roof pitched over the front door, diving dramatically down the sides of the two-story structure. Standing before it, the house seemed to stretch up as high as the trees. "It's a nice place, Pete,"  I said, thinking:
Maybe it won't be so bad here after all.

"I'll start cleaning out the trunk." Indigo unwound his fingers from mine as we stood beside his open door.

"I'll give you a hand," Casey said, placing his helmet on the back of his bike. He smoothed his hair, then brushed dust from the legs of his pants.

Yvonne was already hanging over the front porch railing. "Derek, get your brandy butt up here," she yelled at her boyfriend, who was making certain no tree limbs or branches would be able to reach the Escalade's fenders, even in a strong wind, should there be one.

"Coming, princess." He took the weathered steps two at a time, in cutoffs, his long legs flexing rippling muscles.

We all helped carry, and dumped our bags in the center of the large living room which was paneled with the same rustic cedar that wrapped the outside of the house. At times, Indigo seemed like a square peg in a round hole, not really fitting into the occasion. Although I'd been the injured party, my heart went out to him. I eased him into a corner, ran my palms up and down his chest, enjoying the feel of him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just wish we were alone." His stare, ranging from desirous to desperate, was unsettling.

"I'm gonna bring in some firewood." Pete stood before the fieldstone fireplace, a hand on his hip, the other rubbing his chin. "Gets chilly up here at night."

At the thought of nightfall I shivered, for more reasons than one. Each time I glanced at Indigo, he seemed to be drifting deeper into another place, far away and separate from me, Maine, the others around us ... our predicament. I wondered if we'd end up having a discussion or another argument. Why was I feeling like this was the last stand?

"I'm starving," said Derek. "I'm gonna go out and set up the barbeque." He grabbed Yvonne's hand. "Come on babe, help me."

"If you think I'm cooking," she examined her long polished nails, "you're crazier than I thought. Grilling is man's work." She strutted across the floor, poking her head down the hallway.

"So is cleaning and driving and shopping," Derek grumbled as he headed for the door.

Indigo and Casey carried the last of the bags into the house, while Yvonne perched on a barstool, watching the rest of us work. Bill appeared with his guitar, and from that moment on, Arkana became his official tag.

The guys congregated outside, grilling burgers and hot dogs, and drinking beer. Emma and I rummaged through the cooler, pulled out the perishables and stashed them in the fridge. We'd brought plenty of paper goods, and piled two plates high with potato and macaroni salad.

After filling our bellies, we crashed on the sofas. With dusk fading, Pete lit the logs in the fireplace. I almost jumped out of my skin when lightning flashed and thunder crashed in on us, with torrents of rain beating the windows. "What's that?" My back sprang off the cushion I had napped on.

"Haven't you heard thunder before?" Pete lifted his head and gave me a stupid look.

"No. Don't you hear it? The howling ..."

Indigo seemed almost back to himself. Seated beside me, he pulled me against him. "It's only the wind." His breath was flavored with the beer he'd been drinking.

"No one said it was going to storm this weekend ..." I argued.

"You need a drink." Pete let his head fall back against Casey's shoulder.

Casey, who had been the quietest of the group agreed, easing himself off the sofa to pass out refills of beer. At Casey's suggestion, we moved to floor, gathering around the fire. Indigo sat cross-legged. I snuggled inside the pocket his thighs formed. Lifting my face to his, I offered my lips. He nuzzled my neck, whispering we needed this time together after the past weeks, triggering the subject of our impending discussion.

At that point, I wasn't sure I even wanted to hear his explanation. In my opinion, whatever had been so taxing on him, couldn't have been drastic enough to keep him from at least sending me a text. I felt the rise of anger, and had to shut off my mind. The fire was heating my face enough; I didn't need my emotions adding to my uncomfortable flush.

"This reminds me of camp when I was a kid," said Pete, lining his empty beer bottles up next to his legs which were stretched out beside Casey who was nursing his second brew.

"Awesome ... campfire tales. Who wants to go first?" Derek howled like a wolf. There was no getting away from it. I rolled my eyes. "I've seen a few ghosts. Anyone else?" Derek announced, scanning the room. "Any takers?"

Pete's eyes lit up. "Good call, man. I don't have ghost stories, but I've got shit loads of other stuff." He started laughing.

"What's so funny?" I laughed at Pete's laugh, which seemed to be contagious, because suddenly everyone was laughing hysterically ... including Indigo who appeared relaxed and enjoying himself. What a mood swing. I silently thanked Casey for the continuous supply of alcoholic beverages.

Pete shook his head. "I gotta tell you this one. My partner and I responded to a call of an EDP – "

"What's an EDP?" Yvonne broke in.

"An emotionally disturbed person," Pete took a slug of beer, "who was high on PCP. PCP is extremely prevalent, and as we all know, it's a bad, bad drug. When you encounter people on it, they have no idea of who they are, where they are, or what they're doing."

"Yeah, it's nasty," said Indigo, who from behind me, twirled strands of my hair into long curls, "we've treated them at the E.R. People who are high on it can't feel pain, and therefore they have a super human strength. It's crazy."

Pete held his bottle by the neck, slugged, and nodded. "I've fought with people high on dust who were skinny short guys, but it sometimes takes three or four of us to get one of them into handcuffs. It's amazing. So, anyway, as we get to the house we hear this guy trashing the place. We walk in, and the guy had dumped out an entire bag of dog kibble on the kitchen floor, and he was lying in the middle of it, making snow angels. He was yelling that he was Buffalo Beefsteak, and his mother was Princess Piss-Her-Pants. It was hilarious. The funniest part was that the dog was in his cage in the same room, looking at him like "hey asshole, that's my food you're wasting."

We were cracking up, literally crunching over with stomach cramps from laughing so hard. It was as though none of us had a care in the world. What a false sense of security.

"It's pathetic that people do it to themselves," said Casey in disbelief, "but I guess there's humor in everything."

"Who's next?" said Pete on his way to the fridge. "How about you Casey?"

"Nothing half as dramatic as your stories, I'm happy to report. But on a lighter note, I've been invited by the mayor to assist in the presentation of a literary award to a local writer."

We all exchanged glances. I had to tighten my lips. Casey was so studious, had it not been for his easygoing nature, he'd never have fit in with the rest of us.

Bill broke the dead silence. "That's awesome, Casey." Then everyone else agreed.

"Thanks," Casey said, "So, Bill, where's your guitar?" His question was sincere, but we all started needling Bill.

"Yeah, Arkana, it's amateur hour." Derek was stretched out across Yvonne's lap. "I'm half asleep. Put me completely under."

Yvonne took a swipe at his head, warning him he better stay awake.

It didn't take much for Bill to cradle his guitar and start strumming.  Singing was another thing. We bugged him without mercy, but he didn't agree until Emma hung on his arm, whispering, "Sing to me, Billy."

He seemed to melt into her stare, and once he fell into tune, he sounded awesome. Emma and I kept exchanging
the eye
. I knew she was enthralled by his performance. It showed all over her face. She sat close to him, massaging his back as he played.

It was getting late and I wondered what the rest of the night would bring. Indigo must have felt my vibes.
"Let's go upstairs," he whispered. "I really need to talk to you." I wasn't sure if he slurred, or was gripped by passion.

Talk? Would that be all? My stomach knotted with such anxiety, I could barely stand it.
I stood and stretched, raising my voice to capture Pete's attention from Casey, who was talking a mile a minute. "Hey, what are the sleeping arrangements?"

"There are rooms all over the place," Pete slurred. "Take your pick. I'm thinking about crashing down here, right in that chair over there, which I'm about to pull over here in front of this fireplace." He turned back to Casey. "I might just get used to country living. Maybe put in an app for a job as sheriff."

Casey laughed. "Yeah, okay, Peter. Tell me that in the morning."

Yvonne kept shaking Derek, trying to wake him, whining about how tired she was, and that she wanted to go to bed. I saw her whisper something into his ear, and as his lids rolled up his mouth spread into a smile. Then he pulled her face down to his.

"Em," I perched on the landing, my gaze strong, "you guys coming up soon?"

"In a few. You get settled in." She seemed caught up in the evening, and her Arkana. With her head on his shoulder, her body gently rocked as he strummed and sang ... for only her.

"How many showers you got in this place?" Derek yawned. "I need rejuvenating. You hear that, woman?" He said to Yvonne, who swatted the side of head, saying, "Dance for me and I'll consider it."

I
followed Indigo up the stairs, each of us lugging our bags, our emotions. Indigo seemed to be bursting at the seams again, and I felt as though we were facing a prison sentence, rather than romance. We chose the master bedroom suite at the far end of the hall. When we closed the door, we locked the rest of the world outside.

The storm still raged, more menacing upstairs, drowning any trace of sound the others might have been making on the first floor. Indigo and I were suddenly alone, facing the weather, facing each other, facing the fact that we had important issues to work out.

"That's a lot of racket out there, I hope we don't lose power," I said, my voice quivering. "Did you by any chance bring a flashlight?"

"Yep." He pointed to his bag, then his arms went around me.

"Ahh." I cuddled against his warm chest. "You feel so good," I murmured, my face buried beneath his chin. "Cozy."

"I've been called a lot of things," I felt the vibration of his voice as he spoke, "cozy not being one of them, but I suppose we could try that one out."

"Mmm. You taste good, too." Gently sucking, I tugged on his bottom lip.

Arms locked around each other, lips meshed, we worked our way to the bed, letting our bodies sink into the mattress. After releasing me, Indigo settled near the edge. His mood was all over the place, desire and despair struggling for victory.

I kicked off my shoes and crawled up behind him, running my hands up and down his back, each stroke lifting his shirt higher as I smoothed my palms over his skin, brushed him with my lips, then my tongue swept his ear.

He pulled me around and onto his lap, cradling me in his arms. "
You have such beautiful hair." He loosened my braid, ran a finger up my jaw line, studying me as though he'd never seen me before. Then he began touching my face. "Your eyes have such sparkle." His finger moved up the bridge of my nose and across my brow. "The color is amazing, like a delicious mixture of chocolate and mint." He kissed just above each lid, then whispered, "and your mouth  ...  I love your mouth." His finger ran around the line of my lips, parting them, dipping inside. "I love kissing you. I missed kissing you." With his thumb, he pulled my bottom lip down. "I want to kiss you, Jewel ..."

I went completely limp in his arms. "Kiss me ..."

"There's just one problem ..."

"Problem?" My mind had shut down, and I had trouble finding my voice.

"I want to do more than just kiss you." His fingers left my mouth to trail across my neck, followed by his eyes.

He drove chills up and down my spine so intensely, the tingle actually bit into my skin.

"Are you okay with everything?" he whispered, returning his eyes to mine. "You're not pissed off at me, are you?" His fingers played at the base of my neck, his thumb stroking the hollow. "I hope you're not. I don't want to do anything to piss you off ... separate us ... lose you."

Practically speechless, I managed a weak, "You'll never lose me." My words sounded like they came from a mouth filled with cotton, and he chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving mine.

"How about that shower we never got to take at your place?" My words grew stronger. My aggression surprised even me, but the misery I'd tried to elude during our separation was crashing down on me, as were Emma's words, "Make the most of today." I was about to make the most of the night, the seclusion, the shower, the bed, while I gave my very best to Indigo.

Gaze locked on mine, he studied me. "Are you sure, Jewelia?" His eyes narrowed slightly. Darkened. For a moment, I
worried faced with reality he might falter, and disappointment filled the hollow inside me that cried out with need. "We don't have to. That's not why I came up here," he was whispering and I was angering.

"What, you don't want to be with me?"

"Does time ever stop?"

"What kind of question is that?"

He rubbed my cheek with his, almost purring, "I'll always want to be with you."

"Right now, then." My body was in high gear. I couldn't take another tomorrow wondering, waiting, worrying. "No more fighting. No more talking. Let's not waste anymore time."

After a look of deliberation, he tried to grin. "I'm curious," again he ran a finger over my bottom lip, "is that a closet, or maybe the door to a bathroom? Hopefully, with a nice big whirlpool tub ... because I could sure use the relaxation."

"If you're looking for relaxation, check in at a rest home," I quipped, brazen on the outside, freaking out internally.

"Not unless you're my nurse." In the dimness, his eyes were burning slate, blue and white rays shooting sultry sparks.

A breath caught in my throat. Concealing a shiver, I separated us, rising from the bed. "Guess there's only one way to find out." I felt the heat of his stare as I padded to the door and swung it open. I was suddenly a temptress, an arm and a hip pitched against the doorframe, lips parted, inviting him inside. "Will a shower suffice?"

In three strides he was at my side, tucking strands of hair behind my ear. Then his lips came down on mine and my heart throbbed so, my chest began to ache.

Every ounce of blood in my body seemed to be gathering in my head, leaving my vulnerable limbs lifeless, but Indigo made it easy, comfortable, kissing me the entire time he undressed me ... I undressed him.

Beneath glistening overhead light, I instinctively wrapped my nakedness with my arms as we faced one another. But the intensity of his eyes didn't stray from the fragileness of mine. Without words, he reached into the stall, adjusted the shower, and pulled me in beside him. There we stood, instantly saturated, moist with shower, moist with passion.

The next thing I knew I was in his arms, and we were enveloped in steam which rose, glazing the glass walls, filling the air we breathed, and I felt like I was in the lushness of a rainforest, experiencing the world for the very first time.

Indigo's mouth was crushing mine, our glossy bodies, like our lips, sliding back and forth, up and down. The water coursed, its gauzy mist a blindfold. Molded against him, I needed no sight; I felt every mouthwatering inch of him. His hands said he felt the same.

Beginning with my shoulders, he searched, he caressed, his fingers deftly slipping to my waist, my hips, my buttocks. He clutched and stroked, pulling me so close, between the rushing water and his mouth, I could barely draw air.

Drenched by the shower, by Indigo's passion, I was dizzy, I was floating. The world spun around me, and I was the discordant nucleus the mind of man had never infiltrated. Our mortal forms were no longer solid: we were souls, spirits, weightless entities, but every shred of being, every electrifying nerve ending cried out.

His fingers came between us, sliding from my breasts to my belly, dipping into my folds. I felt my legs being nudged further apart; heard myself scream, and scream again.
My nails raked the length of his neck, dug into the muscles of his arms. I slipped my hands between his thighs, gripping and stroking until I felt him tighten and was certain he was about to explode.

In slow motion I was spun, pinned to the wall, where my body sank against wet tiles, and he was behind me, bringing himself closer. Had he not been holding me, I'd have crumbled to the floor.

Moaning, I clutched the steel support bars, nearly collapsing with ecstasy. I heard my voice in my ears, felt his body collide with mine, then he was rubbing against me, sliding his cock between my buttocks, his hardness almost sawing me in two. Through the sound of rushing water, I heard his staggering moan. His hands roamed my body, lifted my wet, clinging hair, clearing a shoulder which he kissed, bit down on. And then he was positioning me. Following the touch of his fingers, I felt his blunt tip at my opening, and with a cry, my lungs emptied of air.

"Baby," he groaned, grinding against me. One arm slid around me, securing my tummy, bending me forward. I felt the condom graze my skin, enter inch by inch, and in moments, he was inside me.

I gasped. "Oh God, Jimmy ..." My mouth hung open, gathering droplets of water, my lips sliding across the smooth surface on which I was braced. Sensations slammed my body, my head, faster than my brain could process.

His free hand massaged, fingers plucking my nipples, the sweet friction rippling through my aching breasts, stoking the heat between my thighs. A thumb slipped between my folds, stroking the almost unbearable ache; all the while he pumped with a matching rhythm, working me into frenzy.

His hands moved with the same fury as his rolling hips, which were tight and powerful, each thrust met by a groan. I threw back my head, turning my face, searching for his lips.

As he kissed me, his hands moved to my hips, holding me firmly in place. Then one arm went around my waist, and the fingers of his other hand made contact with the most sensitive part of my body. While he filled me, he stroked and I lost every ounce of air in my lungs, then gasped. Water seeped through my parted lips. I was being suffocated by the shower, devoured by Indigo, and I almost passed out with pleasure and pain, at the time, synonymous.

Before I could catch my breath I was spun, crushed against his chest, kissed, lifted. I felt my legs become tangled around his hips, and together we sank to the floor. The shower filled with the turbulence of rushing water, our coiling bodies, our moans.

Palms pressed to the wall, on my knees I straddled him, filled his mouth with a breast and I pumped and cried out until there was nothing left inside me but Indigo. The shower beat down on us, our chests heaved, inaudible words were murmured, and then there was silence.

Suddenly, I was standing, wrapped in his arms, swaddled in a towel, and held as though he thought I might break. If not for surging adrenaline racing through my veins, I would not have been able to move.

With nothing but terrycloth slung around our hips, we walked to the bed, and he was hugging me, telling me how beautiful I was.

"It was amazing," he said softly, pushing my hair from my face, nibbling my shoulder. He spun me, backed me into him, and his hands began massaging my breasts. "I love your body."

"You're amazing. And yes, I believe you do love my body." Stretching, I lifted my arms, locked my wrists around the back of his neck, and resting my head on his chest, pressed against him, squirming. "I hope I met your expectations." With the way he was touching my breasts, I was becoming breathless. I pulled one of his hands down the front of my body, guiding him to my thighs.

"Beyond anything imaginable." His breath came in gasps as his teeth moved to my neck. His fingers found a rhythm, clutching and sliding until my body weakened with another orgasm.

"Did I make up for all the suffering you endured?" Turning in his arms, I recovered against his lips, chewed the lobe of his ear, then gnawed on his neck.

He ran his tongue up my throat and along my jaw line, then held me out before him. "Hmm. I'm not sure." He cocked his head, then cupped my breasts. "Let me think a minute." He closed his eyes, pretending to concentrate, then his lids slowly opened. "Did I ever mention, I love your breasts? And as a physician, I know just what to look for."

"Yes, I know you love my breasts ... and you are so naughty." I giggled, and I slipped my hand beneath his towel, cupping him as firmly as his palms held me. "I'll make putty out of you yet." I tucked up the side of my mouth. "Hmm. Maybe I already did?"

He laughed. "Recovery, woman. I need recovery time. Or as Derek so eloquently said, I need rejuvenating."

I rested my hands on his, pushing my breasts into mounds, forming a deep valley. Guiding his eyes with mine, I watched his gaze fall, whispering, "Next time, baby."

"Christ, Jewel. You
are
out to get me, aren't you."

"You have no idea." I grinned. "And thanks to you, I worked up some appetite. I have some chocolate chip cookies over there." I flicked my head toward our bags. "Interested?"

"Only if they're moist and delicious ... like you." His cupping palms squeezed. "Have I told you, you have the most delectable breasts? And everything else to go along with them?"

"More than once. You're such a bad boy," I giggled, "and you could become very fattening."

"And habit forming, I hope."

"Oh yeah. High in calories and very addictive." Lifting my face, I sucked on his lips, "Should we bother to get dressed?"

"Hell no." His voice was huskier than I'd ever heard it. He dropped his towel, tugged at mine, then swept me off my feet. We tumbled into bed, diving beneath the sheets. I cuddled against the warmth of his body, a contrast to the cool bedroom air that surrounded us.