Kyland (Sign of Love #7) (10 page)

Tenleigh

We ate dinner sitting on the floor in front of the wood stove in Kyland's living room, our plates on his coffee table. Food had never tasted so delicious to me in my entire life. His house was warm, my belly was full, and I felt genuinely happy. Maybe I shouldn't let myself be so joyful, but I couldn't help it. I could accept that Kyland was leaving soon. I could accept that he wouldn't look back. But was I going to be okay if I got any closer to him? Probably not. But something pulled me toward him, something I had trouble resisting, something that felt so good, I didn't
want
to resist it. I finally understood the pull. I finally had an inkling of what my mama and my sister had felt—and I finally understood why Marlo didn't want to experience the pain of having it end. And in my situation, I was assured—over and over as a matter of fact—that it
was
going to end. And maybe that was better. At least I wouldn't be blindsided when he packed his bag and left. I'd have time to prepare. But if
I
won that scholarship, we'd
both
be packing our bags . . . but still for separate lives. And yet I still wanted to be here with him. Was I wrong to feel like it was worth the pain
later
for some happiness
now
, no matter how temporary it may be?

"Now who's the one with the intense expression?"

I startled and looked over at Kyland and then started laughing.

"I'm breaking my own rule." I breathed out another small laugh.

Kyland chuckled and then paused. "I'm really glad you're here. In case you're wondering. This day has been . . . incredible. You're incredible. I want you to know that."

"Why does it sound like you're kicking me out?"

Kyland shook his head. "On the contrary. I'm hoping you'll stay. I'd really love it if you’d stay with me tonight."

"I'd like that, too," I whispered. Kyland let out a breath and smiled as if my response was a relief.

There was a knock on his door and we both looked at each other, confused. Kyland paused as if considering whether he'd answer or not. But then we heard the unmistakable sound of a banjo outside his door. I started laughing. "Oh God, the moonshine is flowing."

"Oh shit," Kyland said, laughing, too. He walked to the door and I got up, pulling the quilt around me. I wasn't properly dressed, but if I knew the group of hillbillies outside his door right now and their love of moonshine, they wouldn't notice.

Kyland swung the door open and we stood there laughing and listening to a band of drunk hillbillies perform their own version of "Jingle Bells," playing banjos and homemade instruments and singing in loud, cackling voices. They were awful and ridiculous. Mostly because they were rip-roaring drunk. I couldn't stop smiling. They were home.

Old Sally Mae, who had all of three teeth left in her mouth, took Kyland by the arm and executed a rowdy two-step with him, whipping him around and causing him to laugh out loudly. My heart clenched at the look of open happiness on his face. And for a moment, the world slowed until it was only him, laughing and linking arms with Sally, the expression of joy on his face increasing as he spun her around, doing a gentlemanly bow at the end as she curtsied and flirted. I leaned on the doorframe for support.

They offered us a swig of moonshine from their jug and I took a couple burning sips of what tasted to me like battery acid and coughed as Kyland did the same, grimacing and wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. Then they danced off down the snowy road, their clanging music disappearing into the clear, cold night.

Kyland closed the door and reached his hand out to me and I gripped it, still holding the quilt around me with the other. He twirled me around once like he'd done to Sally Mae and I giggled and fell into his muscular chest. He had the most beautiful body. It was muscled, but lean, his shoulders broad and his waist narrow. It wouldn't be mine forever, but I was going to enjoy it while I could.

"They're crazy," Kyland said, offering me a crooked smile.

"Yeah," I agreed, laughing. "But awesome."

Kyland pulled me with him back to his bedroom where we fell laughing onto his bed. He kissed me and we both sobered as the kiss went deeper. I sighed and wrapped my arms around his neck, running my nails over his scalp.

He groaned and that groan sent tingles between my legs. Was this how sex was for everyone? How did couples who were really into each other ever leave their houses? If Kyland was mine—if he was promised to me, if we lived in this house together—I'd want to keep him here all day. I giggled against his mouth and he pulled away.

"What's funny?"

"Nothing's funny. I just like sex."

"You haven't had sex yet," he said, running his nose along mine.

"You could remedy that," I suggested. "My sister's had me on the pill as long as she's been on it. She gets packs of them at the free clinic. I take it regularly." I felt unsure, shy, giving him that information, but if birth control was part of the reason he was hesitating, I wanted him to know he didn't need to.

"Tenleigh," he groaned.

"I want you, Kyland. I want you to be my first. I don't care if you'll leave afterward."

"No. No, don't say that. Don't feel that way.
I
care.
I
can't do that." He shook his head for emphasis. He smoothed a piece of hair behind my ear. "Tenleigh, someday you're going to meet a man who wants to give you a life, a man who wants to give you everything he has to give. And I'm not going to take the thing that should be his. I'm not going to take the thing that's yours to give to him as a gift." His words were tender, but his jaw was tight.

I pushed at him, feeling unreasonably hurt and angry. "You really know how to ruin the moment, you know that?" I stood up, pulling the quilt with me. "What girl wants to hear about some other guy when the guy she
wants
right then is kissing her? I suppose next you're going to tell me about the woman who you'll deem worthy to give all of yourself to someday, once you make it out of here? Do I have to hear about her, too? I guess she'll be sophisticated and worldly. Maybe a New York socialite? She'll talk like a proper lady—not like a Kentucky hick? She'll wear pearls and drink tea with her pinky—"

"Tenleigh. Stop. I didn't mean that. Will you just listen for a minute? Jesus, moonshine makes you angry." He swore softly, sitting up and running his hand through his hair. "Do you see why this is a mistake? God, woman."

"Now I'm a mistake?" I seethed, filled with hurt. I reached for the nearest object and hurled it at him. Unfortunately it was a pillow and he barely flinched. I looked around, but the only other thing that was within arm's reach was another pillow. So I chucked that at him, too.

Kyland stood up and wrapped his arms around my waist, tackling me on the bed where he held me down and then sat on top of me. I struggled and beat at him, but he didn't budge. He wasn't putting his whole weight on me, but he was as strong as a bull, and he wasn't going anywhere unless he was the one who decided to.

"Are you done?" he asked softly. I glared up at him.

"Will you listen to me for a second? What I said . . . it didn't come out exactly right." He looked away as if searching his own mind. "What I meant is, sex between us would change things in a way we couldn't change back. I feel it, and I think you feel it, too."

I stopped struggling. "I can handle it."

"I don't want you to have to."

"It's just sex, Kyland."

He shook his head. "That's not how it'd be with us. Hell, just kissing isn't just kissing with us." He looked pained as if that was very bad news.

"You've had sex with other girls."

He shook his head. "You're not like them. And I've never been anyone's first. I've . . . been with girls, yes, but never in a way I thought was unfair to them. If you and I had sex, it'd be unfair to both of us."

I guessed I should have been happy he apparently held me in such high regard. But the only thing I could manage to feel was hurt and jealous that he wouldn't do the things with me he'd done with plenty of other girls. "Fine. Let me up," I huffed.

"Tenleigh," he groaned, looking up at the ceiling as if he was completely frustrated. "
Stubborn spitfire
," he muttered, but there was a smile in his voice.

I made a scoffing sound and started struggling again, but Kyland leaned down and planted his mouth on mine. I made a sound of resistance, but it might have been overruled by me pressing my body up into his and the fact that I wove my fingers through his hair to pull him more firmly into my mouth. He kissed me hard and with intensity. I ground my body into his to get the relief I needed.

Suddenly Kyland was off me and the quilt was ripped from my body as he removed his own clothes. He was quickly back over me and when I saw his erection jutting out stiffly in front of him, I thought maybe he'd changed his mind. He came down on top of me and I opened my legs to him.

He groaned as if in pain and slid down my body. My eyes sprung open wide when I felt his warm, wet tongue make contact with my most sensitive area. I reached my arms out and gripped the bedding in my fists as I threw my head back and moaned deeply. "Good God, Kyland," I gasped as he lapped at me, circling my swollen tissue. I felt like I might scream with the pleasure.

I gripped his head in my hands and pressed shamelessly into his face until I couldn't hold back the ecstasy that tore through me, causing me to arch my back and gasp out Kyland's name again and again.

When I opened my bleary eyes, he was over me. "Are we friends again?" he asked, grinning.

I put my hand on his cheek and said very seriously. "We were never just friends."

He sobered. "I know."

I smiled. "But you are good at that."

He nuzzled his head into my neck. "I know."

I pushed at him and he chuckled. "I'm just kidding."

"No, you're not."

"Okay, I'm not."

I went serious. I didn't like to think about how he'd gotten so good at that. A ball of red-hot jealousy was burning in my chest and I felt like throwing things again.

"Come here," he said, pulling the blankets over himself and holding them open for me to slide inside next to him. I did. He spooned into me as he pulled the blankets up over us. I could feel his arousal pressing against my ass. I wiggled into him and he hissed. I reached behind me to stroke him, but he held my hand against my hip. "Let me just hold you," he said into my ear.

"But you—"

"Let me hold you," he repeated.

I paused, but relaxed back into his hard chest. "Have you," I bit my lip, "held other girls like this?" I dared to ask. I held my breath, waiting for his answer. I so desperately wanted just one part of him that he hadn't shared with another girl.

"No," he said quietly. "Just you." I relaxed again, joy filling my chest. He brought his arm around me and pulled me even closer. He was warm and big and I melted into him, feeling safe and protected and so very, very comfortable. I sighed and he kissed my shoulder. "Sleep, little spitfire," he whispered.

We were both quiet for a few minutes and I wondered if he'd fallen asleep.

"I won't regret this when you leave," I whispered.

For a minute there was only the sound of the wind outside the window. And then he said very softly, "Neither will I."

I fell into a peaceful sleep and when I woke to Kyland's hand running lazily between my legs in the middle of the night, I sighed and opened my eyes, watching the gently falling snow through the window next to his bed. He brought me to orgasm and then I returned the favor, stroking him until he panted and groaned out his own release, calling my name into the darkness of the room.

In the deep of the night, I heard what sounded like choking sounds and I woke up tangled with Kyland, his skin clammy and his muscles tense. "Kyland," I whispered, shaking him slightly. He startled awake.

"You were dreaming."

He sucked in a big breath.

"Yes."

"What was it about?" I stroked my fingers through his hair.

He paused, but then answered me. "Them. Down there, buried alive under the earth. I dream of them sometimes. And it feels like I'm choking."

I pressed myself closer to his body and wrapped my arms around him, holding him tightly. "I'm sorry."

He exhaled a loud breath. "They lived for three days down there before the oxygen was gone. Three days."

I hadn't known that. I knew there was a rescue effort, and I knew when they found the men, they were all dead, but I hadn't known they'd been able to tell they had lived for three days. I shivered, imagining what that must have been like.

"Is that why you have—"

"Claustrophobia?" He paused. "Partly. When I was about seven, my brother and I were playing hide-and-seek in the woods next to the Privens' house. We were always outside . . ." He cleared his throat and continued. "Anyway, there was this old refrigerator on the ground at the edge of their property and I climbed inside to hide. It latched behind me and I couldn’t get out." His voice sounded strangled with the memory alone and I kissed his chest and squeezed him tighter. "They finally found me, but it'd been hours and I thought I would die in there. It was like being buried alive. And then when my father and my brother died the way they did, I felt that feeling all over again and imagined the anguish and terror they must have experienced. Suddenly, small spaces made me feel like I'd lose my mind. Even being in the shower sometimes . . . I have to keep the shower curtain open." He chuckled self-consciously. "It's ridiculous."