Lost (Captive Heart #1) (4 page)

T
his was definitely going
to be my last summer at Camp Marsh.

Walking around the grounds, all of the younger kids looked like babies compared to my mature, fourteen-year-old self. It didn’t help that my bros back home had ragged on me for months about spending two weeks up here in the Poconos at summer camp. Who went to summer camp anymore? They were off inducting themselves into high school, trying to get into every underage house party they could get through the door at, surveying the new girls and the old ones.

But I had to come, at least for one more summer. Deep down I really did love this place, what it stood for, how much simpler it was out here. And it was the one place I could come that my dad couldn’t get to me. It was two glorious weeks without football or weight training or pressure. When I was here, I was free to be whoever I wanted.

I strolled down the walking paths through the forest, just aimlessly wandering in the early evening after dinner. I could go back to my cabin, hang with the rest of the dudes I was bunking with, but for some reason I just felt like being alone.

Most of the campers were up at the mess hall, eating late dinners or goofing around after a day of activities. I wave to a few guys I know as I wind deeper into the forest, my spine tightening up as I remember that I’ll be going home in just three short days.

As I near the obstacle course—a massive structure of ropes, climbing walls, ziplines and balancing beams suspended thirty feet from the ground—I see a familiar head of long, thick chestnut hair. My heart speeds up, and my dick does that twitching thing it’s started doing whenever I see a hot girl.

But this isn’t just some hot girl. It’s Charlotte. A girl that I didn’t used to notice was hot. A girl who, in the past two years, I’ve barely noticed at all. Sure, we live across the street from each other, and I wave when I see her in the neighborhood, but things with our “us against the world” pact never quite worked out.

She’s still quiet and reserved, barely speaking to anyone at school. Always with her nose stuck in a book or her homework. She’s still out until nine p.m. every night at one of her many lessons or activities. In reality, she’s weird. And I’m … not. I have the coolest friends; the prettiest girls want to date me. Even though I get a pang in my gut every time I ignore her in the halls, I know it would kill my reputation if I were seen with her.

Except when we showed up to camp this summer, she was a completely different person. A girl. And a really pretty one. I guess I hadn’t noticed during the school year, what with the other tail I was trying to chase. But damn, Charlotte Morsey got hot.

She had hair that glinted golden when the sun touched it, and it fell almost down to her butt. A butt that I couldn’t not stare at whenever she ran past me in the quad down to the lake. And she’d grown boobs. Firm, perky boobs that I’d pictured more than once when I jacked it in the shower. And her face … man, she was just hot. Big eyes, long lashes, a mouth that I imagined sticking my tongue in.

She hasn’t noticed me looking at her, too focused on writing something in a black notebook on her lap where she sits on the side of the obstacle course hidden from the walking path. I walk up quietly, trying to read the diary over her shoulder.

Except I step on a twig, snapping it and sending her chin up to meet my face. “Jeez, Tucker, you scared me!”

Her face is red, a blush creeping into her cheeks, and I know I haven’t just scared her. I’ve intruded on something more than just a writing session.

“What are you writing?” I ignore her freak out.

“Nothing.” Char stands, clearly eager to get away from me.

“You don’t have to leave. Come sit awhile.” I wave her over, discreetly adjusting the boner I’ve just sprung from being this close to her.

She toes her sneaker in the dirt. “Oh so since we’re away from Conestoga, you can talk to me now?”

Guilt hits me square in the chest. But I brush it off, acting like the cool kid that I am. “Don’t be a baby, Char, I’m talking now, aren’t I?”

She still looks conflicted, but comes to sit beside me on the ground anyway. We’re hidden back here, the sun has gone down over the trees and the forest is getting dark.

“So, what were you writing?”

“It’s none of your business. Just some thoughts.”

“Is that why your face was so red when I came up? You were writing something dirty in there, weren’t you?”

I make a grab across her body for the journal, but she wrestles it away, struggling in my grasp. I wouldn’t even be able to read the pages out here in the dark, but she fights me anyway. One slip of my hand and my fingers graze her boob, right over where her nipple must be.

We both gasp and I jerk my hand back like she’s burned me. My dick only twitches harder in my pants, my balls heavy and needy.

I clear my throat awkwardly. “You might as well just tell me what’s in there.”

I can feel Char blush even in the dark, her embarrassment potent in the air. “I was trying to plan how to … how to um … kiss someone before I start high school.”

“You want to make out with someone? I mean, don’t you want to mark off some of the other bases before you go back to first?”

She coughs. “I haven’t uh … ticked off first base yet.”

“Really?” The condescending word pops out before I can stop it and I instantly want to slap my forehead.

“And this conversation is over.” Leaves and sticks rustle as Char starts to push off the ground.

“No wait …” I pull on her arm, making her sit once more.

She hasn’t kissed anyone? No guy has tried to stick his tongue in her mouth? Jeez, I’ve made out with tons of girls already, and even gotten a couple of rough, tugging hand jobs.

“So … you just never, um, kissed anyone?”

“No … I mean, you barely even look at me in school. Do you think anyone would really want to kiss me?”

Yes. I do.

“I mean, every guy in our grade is horny as hell. They’d probably pucker up if you asked them.”

Char scoffs and I can see the last of the sun’s rays dancing on her outstretched, tan legs. “I wouldn’t ask a boy to kiss me. It has to be … romantic.”

Romance. All these girls wanted some fairytale. They didn’t get that we just wanted to get in their pants.

“So you want your first kiss before you start high school?”

I hear her give a soft laugh. “That’s probably so stupid, right? You’ve probably kissed all of the girls in our grade.”

She wasn’t far off. “I guess …”

A beat or two go by, and I don’t know what else to say.

“I could kiss you.”

Char turns her head, finally meeting my eyes for the first time since we sat down.

“You … you want to?”

Hell yes I want to. And not just because I was a horny teenager. I really want to kiss her. It’s all I have been thinking about for the last week and a half.

I don’t answer her question. I reach out a hand and cup her jaw, a romantic move I’ve seen old dudes do in movies. It must work, because Char sucks in a breath, her eyes wide and full of … some expression I can’t put a word to.

I run my fingers across her jaw, the feeling of her soft, delicate skin under my rough fingers making my heart beat so hard that I feel like I might pass out. I’ve never felt like this before, not even when I made out with Molly McCray in the closet a month ago at her birthday party.

Char hasn’t taken a breath since I put my hand on her cheek, so I decide to move my head in towards hers. The forest is dark now, the only thing lighting the moment are the fireflies buzzing around the moonlight striking the trees. Off in the distance campers laugh and shout, but out here, we’re completely alone.

I angle her head, making the movements for her, as I line my lips up to hers. I run my tongue around my suddenly dry mouth and then aim for my target. The moment our lips meet, Charlotte expels the breath she’s been holding, right into my mouth.

I push my lips into hers, moving them and caressing her soft, velvety mouth. It takes her a minute or two to catch on, but when she starts kissing me back, I feel it in my blood. I move my hands over her cheeks, loving the feel of her soft skin under them. We keep kissing, just lips to lips, exploring the feeling.

I feel a tentative hand go to my stomach, and her other one grips my shoulder. The hand on my abs is dangerously close to the waistband of my khaki shorts, but I try to ignore the pulsing, rock-hard part of me beneath my boxers. This is Char’s first kiss, and I’m not enough of a jerk to push her into trying anything more than this.

But I can’t help it when my tongue slips into her mouth, moving us from regular kissing to frenching. Char expels a soft sigh as our tongues tangle, and I feel like my head is spinning like a top.

I pull away, my head fuzzy and in need of oxygen.

“Wow …” Char breathes, her eyes still closed with a look of such wonder and peace gracing her pretty face.

“How was your first kiss?” I stare at her closed eyes with what might be something close to insanity. Who knew Char would obliterate every sexual experience I’d already had?

And then she surprises me more than she already has. “I don’t know, I think I need to try it again.”

She moves her head toward me this time, locking her mouth on mine. I jump just a little, surprised at her bold move.

It must be hours that we sit there in the dark making out. It doesn’t go any further than that, my hands always staying on her face and neck.

After, I walk her back to her cabin, neither of us saying a word. Char slips inside and I slowly make my way back to my bunk, the entire time touching my lips.

How come even though I was the one giving her her first kiss, it feels like mine? How come it feels like I’ll never be able to feel that with anyone but Charlotte Morsey?

C
har’s
fourteen-year-old lips on my fourteen-year-old lips. That is the memory I wake to, the feeling so real that I wonder if for a minute I’ve been transported back in time.

And then I move my finger, and pain explodes through my body. I stop moving, just that tiny movement sending white-hot torture surging through my veins. I open my eyes carefully, and realize that half my face is obscured, pressed against fabric of some kind. I take stock of the rest of my body, which feels like it’s been hit by the heavyweight champion of the world and then an eighteen-wheeler.

With the eye I can see out of, I notice the fresh dew on the grass and the early morning rays of light painting the grounds. Camp Marsh … right. That’s where I am.

Fuck. Charlotte Morsey. That’s whose lap I must be laying in. For a couple of seconds, I forgot what I did. But flashes and images of yesterday slowly creep back, the scene ending in Char dumping my drugs.

Double fuck. I must be going through withdrawal. I’ve only felt this bad one other time. Well two. But only one that related to drugs.

Two years ago, when my mother had tried to intervene and I reluctantly went to rehab for the first time. I went three days cold turkey and couldn’t fucking do it. I hightailed it out of there so fast to find a fix that it was like my ass was on fire.

Except this time I don’t have that luxury. Because we’re on the run. I fucking
kidnapped
someone.

Wait … if I blacked out last night … why didn’t she just leave me here?

I feel a hand come down in front of my mouth, her palm hovering inches away from my mouth. Jesus, she’s checking to see if I’m breathing.

“I’m not dead, Char.” I push off her even though every bone and muscle in my body is protesting.

“Oh thank God!” She lets out a puff of relief and I stare at her quizzically.

“Isn’t that what you want? Wouldn’t this be a million times easier for you? What the fuck are you even still doing here?”

Her mouth falls open and I can’t help but stare at the sexy way her lips part. “Um, you’re welcome? I thought you were dying, Tucker. In front of my eyes I thought I was going to see you die! I may hate you right now, and you may have taken me out of that bank against my will, but I never want you dead.”

She’s the only person then.

I walk off, my feet taking me to the spot where I’d started to come down from my high last night. Next to the porch steps is my gun, which I grab up like it’s a crying baby. I hold it close to me, flicking the chamber out to check that all of the bullets are safely in their slots. Good.

Char starts to walk back towards me, but passes the place I’m standing.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

She doesn’t look back at me. “We both need to eat.” And with that she swings open the mess hall door.

The Marsh’s are such nice people. They leave this place unlocked and open year round. Granted, no one would come out here, there is no point. Unless you’re on the run with a hostage in tow.

Food right now sounds both necessary and nauseating. I need to choke something down, even I know how the steps of withdrawal and recovery go. Even if I’ve never been successful at them.

I follow her into the mess hall where she’s already rummaging around the supply closet in the back. I move toward the noise in the back, past the assembly line where you’d put you tray as a camper. I’ve never been back here, it was always for counselors or cooks, and it feels a little bit wrong.

But what isn’t wrong about this situation?

Char is cracking open a can of baked beans as I enter, on the metal kitchen cart in the middle of the room she’s placed another can of beans and a box of macaroni and cheese. She fills a pot with water and puts it on the stove, all of the appliances and water still working. Figures the Marsh’s didn’t suspend any of this for the winter. No one in rural Pennsylvania is worrying about break-ins or robberies. Not all the way out here in the mountains.

“Shouldn’t you be like … breaking down? Crying? Trying to escape?”

She quietly sets the can down before pouring the pasta into the semi-boiling water. “How long have you been using heroin?”

“None of your damn business.” The gun clangs as I slam it on the metal countertop.

“Is it … do you still have pain?”

She points to my left knee. Well, guess she knows about the injury.

“Again, none of your fucking business.”

Char’s brown eyes flare, the yellow ring around her pupils expanding with anger. “You know what is my
fucking business
? Why you came into my place of work and fucking kidnapped me! Do you have an explanation for that one?”

I don’t think I’ve ever heard Char say the word “fuck.” It does treacherous things to the anatomy below my waistline.

“Sure, I needed money. There was a bank. Voila!”

She grunts and rolls her eyes before turning to walk into another room. A bit more shuffling and a couple minutes later, she comes back out in sweatpants and a Camp Marsh T-shirt. The sweatpants are a size too big, swamping her petite frame. But the T-shirt is just right, the letters in Camp stretching tight over her perky, more-than-a-handful tits.

It has to be obvious that I’m staring at her, because she shifts uncomfortably before shouting at me again. “For God’s sake, put the gun down, Tucker!”

Annoyance and the need to be the dominant one in this situation has me holding it up again, aiming it at her. “You’ve got a lot of balls right now,
Charlotte Ann
.” I speak her full name like it’s a curse.

She’s about to come back at me, but my traitorous body decides at that moment to act up. My stomach turns sour in a flash, and before I realize what’s happening, I’m puking up water and dry-heaving until my lungs almost give out.

Her soft tone sounds right next to my ear where I’m bent over holding my torso. “If you were going to shoot me, kill me, you would have done it already. So put the gun down and do us both a favor.”