Inferno Anthology (112 page)

“Annie is spending the night at Kaya’s house.” He brushes his finger over the side of my cheek, and an electrical current races through me.

Holy
shit
.

“What do you think we should do?” My voice shakes as I ask the question. My mind races with all kinds of deliciously pornographic possibilities. My head feels light and fuzzy, and suddenly it feels as if I could pass out if I wanted.

Okay. Don’t panic. If he green-lights operation deflower-power I’ll simply jump in the shower. Then I’ll put on my Whitney Briggs shorts—no wait, I wore those last night. I think I have a pair of thongs, but then I might as well be naked, and, for sure, I don’t have a decent bra for him to see me in. Crap. This is never going to work. Wait, people don’t wear clothes while having sex, so all of the aforementioned fashion blunders aren’t even necessary. My body pulsates like one giant heartbeat while my girl parts pound against my brain trying to get me on board with the idea of sleeping with him tonight.

“What do you think we should do?” He tucks his head back a notch, and I can tell he’s holding back the urge to smile.

“I think I should shower.” Did I just say that out fucking loud? He’s going to think I’m gross—that I
smell
. “I mean shave.” Shit! Shit! Shit! He’s going to think I have an entire Canadian forest tucked between my legs, God only knows he’d be right. “I mean, I guess—we should change into our PJs and maybe we could eat cookies.” PJs?
Cookies?
Perfect. Let him know you have the dress code and diet of a three-year-old—that ought to turn him on. NOT. Way to show him you’re not Cole’s kid sister.

“Hmm.” His cheek cinches up one side while I boil in a vat of self-inflicted embarrassment. And, worst of all, I can tell he’s enjoying this. “That’s quite a hygienic, albeit nutritiously deficient, agenda you have mapped out.” Bryson wraps his arms around my waist and sways me as if we were dancing. “Why don’t you put on your bathing suit?” He sears a kiss over the rim of my ear. “I’ll whip us up something to eat, and we can hit the hot tub. Does that sound good?”

“Sounds more than good.” At least he’s able to think intelligently under the circumstances, unlike me who’s reduced herself to a walking ball of hormones on fire. Then again, he’s done this a million times. Of course he’s going to be way more casual about the whole thing. Food then sex. He’s had a steady diet of both for the last few years. I’m just too much of a dumbass to realize the fact that’s how most people round out their day.

God, that’s going to be my new routine with Bryson!
Gah!
I just want to scream and shake people. Well, not Bryson,
other
people who don’t seem to realize how fucking fantastic the rest of my life is going to be. I should call Mom! No wait, ixnay on the calling of the mother. Although, one day, in a land far far away, she’ll be ecstatic for me.

I scoot upstairs with my thighs quivering every step of the way and jump into the shower, attacking every part of me below the neck that has hair with a razor as I try my best to banish and sculpt. After several nicks and close run-ins with a few surface veins, I dig through my bag and pull out my red two-piece that I had no idea I would even be needing, but, since I have my entire existence in this bag, here it is. I toss a long sweater over it and head back down, barefoot.

“In here.” He calls from the dining room, and my private parts quiver as if telling me to hurry the hell up and get that boy on top of me already. Bryson has a series of candles set out and two plates brimming with what looks like ramen noodles.

“Aren’t you the master chef?” I tease while taking a seat next to him.

“I am.” He pours sparkling water into a pair of tall goblets and slides one over to me. “I guess I’m more of a minute chef tonight. I blame that on a serious lack of food in the fridge.”

I try to take a few bites, but my stomach has already gone into lockdown. There’s no way I’ll be able to eat another bite. I glance up at Bryson, and he hasn’t taken those steel-colored eyes off me once.

“You ready to hit the hot tub?” He gives a devious smile as if he had arranged for the mishap at the Ice Bar himself.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Bryson leads us out to a gloriously-huge backyard that spans in every direction with emerald-rolling lawns. A cabana sits tucked close to the house with an expansive patio around it, and nestled in the middle is an oversized hot tub.

In the distance, a trail of bright green lights blink on and off under a juniper tree and it takes a moment to register what they are.

“Look!” I marvel.

“Fireflies.” He lands a kiss in the hollow of my neck, and I take a breath.

“It looks like magic,” I say, panting into him. Bryson, plus fireflies, plus hot tub equals a trifecta of perfection. My vagina pounds against my thighs because I forgot to add penis in the trifecta mathematics. It’s a rather focused event taking place down there, and now I’m blushing for no reason.

Bryson turns on the lights to the hot tub, and the water glows a glacial blue just like his eyes.

“You’re magic, Baya.” He helps me into the bubbling water, and it sears over my skin like a heated glove as I sink into it.

Bryson lands beside me as we look out at the deep navy night. My heart feels like it’s about to riot right out of my chest, and my thighs tremble for his touch. I can’t believe that the rest of the world feels this way—this fucking
fantastic
right before they experience one of the most intimate moments of their lives. And something in me wants to believe that being with Bryson would be exactly this incredible night after night. I know for a fact it would be.

“What are you thinking?” He slips his hand around my waist and pulls me into his lap. My thigh grazes over the bump in his trunks, and everything enlivens in me from the waist down. The Notorious V.A.G. that sits tucked between my legs screams like a cheerleader at the Super Bowl just waiting for that final touch down. The girls sort of want to get in on the action, too, so I position them over his chest and gently rub his marble hewn body with mine.

“I might die if you don’t kiss me soon.” True story. I leave out the part that I might go into a bona fide cardiac arrest if my heart beats any faster from anticipation—that my uterus is threatening to explode like a pressure cooker, and my nipples are trying to claw their way out of my swimsuit. My hormones are about to take a violent turn for the worse if he doesn’t work his magic over me soon. My legs are already willing to part for him. I’m so hungry, so curious to see what it might feel like to have him in me, a part of me wants to cry.

“Well, then, I’d better kiss you.” His eyes grow all too serious, and he comes in for the kill. “Baya.” He shakes his head. “Don’t feel like we have to do anything tonight. I’m not like that. We can take our time. I promise, I’m not going anywhere.” He touches his nose to mine before landing a spark of a kiss on my lips, and every ounce of me feels like its about to boil over in a lust-fueled meltdown.

“I want to.” I glance down at the water a second. “I wish I knew what I was doing. I’d give anything to have your track record right now.” I give a nervous laugh while scratching at his chest. “Okay, well maybe not so extensive but a little experience wouldn’t hurt.” Like a dozen or so tally marks worth.

“Are you kidding? I’ve got nothing but respect for you for waiting. You should. You’re worth the wait, Baya. And the fact you want to share something as special as your first time with me makes me feel honored. I hope you’ll share
every
time with me.” He pulls my chin up gently with his finger and steadies his eyes over mine. “I want to be your first and your last,” he whispers. “I’m glad you waited. And, trust me, I wish I would have waited for you, too.”

My heart melts, and I memorize him like this, vulnerable, perfect in every way.

“So why the long line of girls?” I’ve been wondering for weeks, outside of mass amounts of testosterone, why so many different girls when just a few repeats could have sufficed? “I’ve counted those notches, by the way.” I lean in and take a gentle bite over his lip. He feels full and slippery between my teeth, and I resist the urge to pierce right through. “You’re nearing triple digits.”

“Triple, huh?” He gives a long blink. “The only thing that could ever explain that long line of girls is the fact I’m an asshole.” His chest rumbles beneath me. A cute little dimple digs in just shy of his lips, and a wildfire rips through me, running its flames between my legs, licking me with its scorching hot tongue. “I was trying to numb the pain.” His eyes cloud over with grief. “But with you, there’s no more pain to numb. You wiped it away that first day I met you, and I couldn’t explain it. I knew right then I needed you in my life.”

“I’ve always suspected my boobs held superpowers.” I sink a little in the water because obviously now is no time for jokes, but I’m lame that way. I can’t help it. Now it’s me who feels like the asshole. “Sorry.”

“No.” He gives a weak laugh. Bryson pulls my legs over his hips and spins me in the water. “I swear that’s why I love you. You have the ability to pull me out of the pit, and you don’t even know it.” He presses another kiss to my lips, and I can feel him swallow hard. “Just when I’m about to go under, you pull me out. Not any one of those girls I’ve been with before had the ability to do that. They were just taking up space while I tried to hide my feelings.”

His eyes dance over mine as a moment of silence ticks by.

“If it didn’t help, then why bed your way through the Greek alphabet? You’re a nice guy, Bryson. It doesn’t really seem like you.” I wrap my finger around a curl at the base of his neck and give a gentle tug.

“I don’t know.” His gaze drifts past me. “I thought for so long I didn’t deserve anyone. I figured if I satisfied my itch that would be all I’d ever need—all I could ever really have. I didn’t want to ruin anybody’s life.” His eyes fill with tears, and he blinks them away. We’ve crossed that invisible line, and I’m about to lose him again, so I reel him back in.

“Bryson—you deserve everything that life has to offer, especially love—especially the love of a very special someone. I hope I can be that someone for you.”

“You already are.” His arms collapse around my back as he holds me tight. “And I wouldn’t want to share my life with anyone else—just you, Baya. I mean it.”

Bryson pulls me in by the face and lands a kiss over my lips, slow and sweet at first until it builds to something fantastically stronger, far more hungrier than any of the kisses we’ve ever shared before. His hands ride down until he’s riding hard circles over my nipples through my bathing suit. A soft moan escapes me, vibrating from my lips to his. His hot mouth melts over my neck and down to the cleft of my shoulder. I can feel his cool breath, his hot kisses, and a powerful pang of pleasure shoots through my body, starting from the most intimate part of me.

“Do you want this with me, Baya?” Bryson pulls back and examines me as if he wasn’t quite sure he could simply trust the words streaming from my lips. He needs to see the evidence on my face because he knows I can’t hide my feelings for him, and I can’t.

“Yes,” I whisper directly into his mouth as a smile forms on my lips. “God, yes.”

Bryson melts over me with a kiss—his erratic breathing, his racing heart all let me know he wants this too. His hand rides down low and glides slowly into the front of my bathing suit bottom.

I let out an audible moan, and my neck bends back from his touch.

Bryson pulls me up as a naughty grin rides low on his lips. “How about we move this show upstairs?”

I bite down on a smile. “I double dog dare you.”

My lose-your-virginity party is about to begin, and the guest of honor just put all of my pleasure zones on erotic notice.

I have a feeling this is going to be the best damn party of my life.

Bryson scoops me up, once I have the towel secured over me. It’s freezing out, but my body is happily numb with shock at the prospect of what he might do to it. He whisks us through the house and up the stairs, wasting no time in getting us to his bedroom.

He kicks the door shut behind us, and it sounds off like a clap of thunder. The moonlight illuminates the room even brighter than it did last night.

“Baya.” He pulls his lips over mine, rough and needy—and, dear God, do I ever want to give him what he needs. The incessant urge to giggle crops up, and I shoo it away like a field mouse in the kitchen.

“Last chance if you want off this train,” he offers. “We could go downstairs and watch TV—play Scrabble if you want.”

Scrabble? I wonder how many points I could score for f-u-c-k-i-n-g? Not that it would be the type of “score” I’m hoping for.

I belt out a laugh. “Maybe we could round out the night working on crossword puzzles together?” God, he’d better not say yes.

His chest vibrates over mine as he pulls me to the bed. We sit on our knees and face each other, our chests still heaving from the excitement, the
exertion,
to get here. Bryson takes me in from his vantage point in an observational way as if I were a new scientific discovery.