Inferno Anthology (111 page)

“I want you, too.” I take in a breath and wait for something unexpected to happen.

His mouth opens slightly, and for a second, I think he’s going to devour me—I
pray
that he will.

“I want to be with you,” I say it plain as day in the event there was any confusion. “Now would be nice,” I whisper. I don’t think I could make it any clearer unless he prefers a physical cue, and dear God that is the very next step. I reach down and dip my hand into his jeans, touching the soft curls at the base of his boxers.

“Baya.” His eyes close a moment as his features grow all too serious, his smile melts away like candle wax. Bryson pulls me out slowly, as if he were an unwilling partner in evicting my fingers. “You don’t want it like this.” He shakes his head just barely. “Not with my mom and sister down the hall. I want your first time to be incredible.” He dots each of my fingers with a kiss, and a line of fire tracks down each one of them. “If you feel the need to scream out my name, and you will—” he holds his finger over my lips, his expression vexingly sober—“I want you to feel free—unrestrained.”

A moan escapes me at the thought of shouting out his name, hell, just being near him like this feels like a privilege.

“I guess you’re right.” I swim back up to him. “And, for the record, waiting is just this side of torture.” I nudge his foot with mine. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t spend the night, right?”

He traces his hand over mine, slow, like honey dripping off my skin. “I’ll be the last person to kick you out of bed.” Bryson tucks his chin and looks demonically sexy from this angle. It makes me want him twice as bad.

“I guess it’s better that nothing serious happens. I’m not ready to disappoint you just yet.”

His head ticks back a notch. “You could never disappoint me.” He runs his finger down the curve of my cheek, melts it down past my neck and stops just shy of my cleavage.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure it’ll be awkward, so I apologize in advance for dragging you to the Baya-loses-her-virginity party.” I glance down at my shorts a moment. “I want to know everything. I want you to teach me.”

“Hey.” Bryson scoots in until his body adheres to mine and rides his warm hand up and down my back. “There’s no party I’d rather be at.” He cinches a sad smile in his cheek. “And believe me, if I weren’t invited I’d be pretty ticked.” He rumbles in my ear with a kiss. His heart beats over my shoulder like a hammer, straight to the bone. “And I
will
teach you. Trust me, I plan on leaving no stone unturned. It will be a thorough, thorough lesson. I promise.” He holds up a hand like a Boy Scout. “You’re going to be amazing. I already know this.” Bryson growls into his words as if there were a psychotically sexy threat imbedded in there somewhere, and my insides cinch.

“Teach me, slowly.” I pull his hand over my chest until he clasps on and offers a firm squeeze. “I’m ready for my first lesson.”

“I suppose there’s a lot we can do before...” His words drift in the air like musical notes, stretching across the wall like erotic shadows you could touch and feel. Bryson runs his fingers under my tank top and skims over my nipples, and my back arches at his touch.

“You’re so incredibly beautiful, you know that?” His mouth covers mine with a sweet kiss that elevates me to that perfect nirvana just this side of ecstasy. My breathing grows erratic. My hips migrate to his just hoping he’ll break all the carnal rules he’s imposed tonight.

I stream a series of kisses up to his ear. “Do you have protection?” There’s not one part of me that believes he’s not into this.

“Not in the vicinity.” He pumps a dry grin. “And it’s a good thing, or I’d be unstoppable.”

Perfect. This is going to put my body and mind in a sexual paralysis without any hope for release. Bryson rolls on top of me and pulls up on his elbows until his lips hover just above mine. His breath holds the scent of minty toothpaste. He’s clean and mean, and I’m pretty sure I can’t take much more of this sexual depravation. Hopefully he won’t mind too much when I start dry humping him for the hell of it.

“I like you hot and bothered.” He grins from his aerial perspective. His eyes illuminate in the dim light and glow like that of a tiger. “When the time comes”—he bears into me in earnest—“I’m going to run my mouth over every single inch of you.” His finger traces the outline of my shoulder, down through my ribs, then my hips. He moves lower still all the way down between my thighs, and a small cry escapes my throat. My girl parts are ticking like a bomb, begging and
shouting
the only way they know how for me to get him the hell down there a.s.a.p. He rubs his fingers over my panties, hard, and I buck into him. “I’m going to sink a kiss right here.”

I hadn’t thought about Bryson kissing me anywhere but my lips, and now an entire world of possibility had opened, new fears were springing to life, and, not surprisingly, my vagina is weeping with joy. Maybe it’s a good thing we didn’t dive into anything tonight. It’s becoming clear that a scalding shower and the business end of a razor are going to be mandatory for this new adventure with Bryson.

“Come here.” He turns me in his arms until my hips conform to his stomach, and we’re happily spooning. “Love you, Baya. Sleep tight.”

“I love you, too, Bryson.”

But I don’t get any sleep. I just revel in the fact that I’m in Bryson Edwards’ arms—in his bed, and I want to memorize how it feels.

Soon the weekend will be over, and all I’ll have is a memory.

In the morning, well, technically the afternoon, when we finally stop resisting the idea of spending all day in bed holding one another, we shower and dress.

Annie and her friend are already out of the house, and so is his mother.

Bryson and I decide to take in a movie in the late afternoon, then in the evening check out the fall festival that’s taken over the pumpkin fields down the street from his house. There’s a Ferris wheel and rides that are guaranteed to make you regurgitate your dinner—entire rows of carnival games that are rigged to suck the change straight from your pocket.

We watch as a boy effortlessly knocks down a pyramid of milk cans and wins a four-foot tall, hot pink giraffe. He kisses its nose before handing it off to the shy girl by his side.

“
Aww
,” I coo, gripping Bryson’s shoulder. “That was so sweet! Those things are impossible to do.”

“Impossible?” His head ticks back a notch. “Just let me know right now if you want a hot pink giraffe because, if you do, it’s as good as yours.” He gives my waist a quick squeeze.

“Oh”—a quiet laugh bubbles in my chest—“you think you’re that good, do you?”

“Oh, sweetie”—Bryson’s chest thumps as he comes in close with a dark smile—“I know I am.” He’s bedroom eyeing me, and I’m almost positive we’re not talking about pink giraffes anymore.

“I double dog dare you to prove it.” Both in and out of the bedroom.

Bryson digs out a couple of bills and starts in on a pitching adventure that seems to span hours even if it is only a few minutes. I laugh my ass off as he struggles to knock the bottles down, only managing to knock one or two from the top at a time.

“I think you should aim for the bottom,” I say.

“I am.” He looks bewildered that his technique is failing and so miserably at that.

“Here let me try.” I take one of the weighted beanbags from him, and the top bottle doesn’t even budge once I hit it. “Hey, this thing is rigged. I nailed that sucker. Those things must weigh forty pounds each. It’s never going to work. It’s impossible.”

Bryson pinches his lips together. He washes those sky-born eyes over mine and gives a tiny grin.

“You make everything possible, Baya.” He hands over another dollar and steps back with his ammo locked and loaded like he’s about to throw the most important pitch at the world series. “This one’s for you, girl.” He heaves the beanbag at the poor defenseless bottles, and all three of them explode backward like a nuclear detonation.

“You did it!” I squeal.

“
You
did it.” Bryson wraps his arms around me and lands a warm kiss over my cheek. My stomach flutters. It cycles up and down as if we were on the most harrowing roller coaster, and it feels like bliss.

The man behind the counter hands me an oversized giraffe that glows the most obnoxious color known to man—bright neon pink.

“I think I’ll put this in my old dorm, right on my bed. You think Jeanie will notice?”

“What? You can’t part with her. We’re practically parents now.” He gives my ribs a slight tickle as we head back down the midway. “We’ll have to take her wherever we go and get a sitter while we’re in class.”

A soft laugh streams from me as I slip an arm around his waist.

“We should name her.” I lay my head on his shoulder, and, oddly, I can feel his body go rigid beneath me. I glance up, and his eyes are fixed straight ahead, his face bleached out pale as a paper white moon. “I said we should name her.” I jostle him by the waist in an effort to pull him out of his trance. “Hey, are you okay?”

A tall, lanky guy makes his way over with a girl in spiked heels that dig into the dirt each time she takes a step.

“Well if it isn’t Bryson fucking Edwards.” His dark eyes look serious—no smile. He offers Bryson a knuckle bump, and he’s slow to reciprocate. “How’s it going?” His gaze drifts over to me. I can feel his eyes wandering over my features, sizing me up before glancing at the overgrown animal tucked under my arm. There’s something familiar about him, but I can’t quite pinpoint it.

“It’s going.” Bryson loosens his grip over me until his arm falls to his waist.

The boy holds out a hand in my direction. “I’m Grant.”

“Baya.” I offer a firm shake. He holds my gaze, heavy as anchors, until finally the hint of a tragic smile breaks through.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Baya.” His eyes sweep the ground a moment.

The girl at his side picks at the cotton candy in her hand, and, for the most part, ignores the entire exchange.

Grant cuts a look to Bryson that says something just beneath the surface. “It’s nice you’re doing good—moving on with your life. Not everyone gets that chance.” He shakes his head as they make their way into the crowd.

Bryson blows a breath through his cheeks as if he had been holding it the entire time.

It hits me why he looks so familiar. “That was about that girl in the picture, wasn’t it?” He had the same dark hair, same serious eyes.

“That was her brother.”

Bryson and I head to the truck.

He doesn’t say anything all the way home.

By the time we get back to the house, there’s a seam of tangerine sky melting over the horizon. I decide not to push anything on the subject of what I’m presuming is his ex-girlfriend. Something tells me she was never a notch on his wall. But a part of me wonders if he’ll ever be ready to talk about her—if deep down I really want him to.

His phone buzzes as soon as we hit the house, and he examines it with a widening grin on his face.

“You win the lottery?” I tease, landing the giraffe on a stool in the entry.

“Something like that.” His eyes lower to mine. A fire burns in them, and it’s all for me. Bryson holds up his phone victoriously. “My dad had an emergency at the Ice Bar, and my mom is graciously spending the night up there to help out with the details. Refrigeration unit is down. The place is literally melting.” His chest rumbles at the thought.

“Do you have to go?”

“And miss out on us having the house all to ourselves? Not a chance.”

My heart thumps so loud I can practically hear it reverberating off the walls. “What about Annie?” There’s a slight rise of panic brewing in me. Tonight might be the night, and, now, all I can think about is how I’m going to sneak off and shave my legs—not to mention more intricate and delicate places that he talked about landing those lips on. Those kisses he talked about last night made my skin flush and my toes curl in every good way. I can’t imagine doing that with Bryson. It scares and exhilarates me all at the same time.

Bryson leans in. His hotter-than-hell smile takes over for just a moment.