One (17 page)

"Aaaaahh!" I
screech as we start descending down. My arm curves around his neck,
holding on for dear life.

"You're
suffocating me."

"You deserve to
suffocate!" I yell back. They're harsh words, but they make Pax
laugh, and he jumps a little as he sprint. " Aaaaahh!" I
shout again. "You're crazy!" I clutch him tightly.

"Crazy in like!"
he replies, slapping my butt again. I gasp, and even though I'm not
the one moving it feels like I'm running too. My laughter is probably
scaring all the animals because I hear the wings of birds flapping
away.

Soon, I feel Pax start
to slow down. Within minutes, I feel him drop to his knees, and my
feet brush against something. He loops one arm around my knees and
slowly slides me back into his arms. Soon, he is on the ground,
holding me like a baby with one hand around my legs and the other
around my shoulders. My head is turned toward him and he smiles down
at me.

"What was
that
?"
I ask in a breathless voice, referring to how he carried me over.

"
That
was
the prelude to
this
." I think he's going to release me so
I can see where we're at. I think he's going to move back with his
hands at his sides. I think he's going to give me room to breathe. He
doesn't.

He kisses me.

I don't expect his lips
to be so gentle. I don't expect them to feel so soft when every other
part of him is so hard. His lips feel like the first time I put a
paintbrush on a canvas. There isn't hesitation, but there's a marvel
there that I felt when I saw the first mark of what I made.
Everything was pale, white, and pristine, and that slash of color was
a mark of defiance, a stroke of my intentions.

That's the thought that
runs in my head as Pax moves his lips over mine. It's a mark of
something more to come. His large hands hold my face like I'm a cup
he's drinking out of. Instead of feeling repulsed, I feel delicate
and cherished; pure somehow.

His lips spread my own
further apart until his tongue is able to sneak through the crevice.
He doesn't force his way into me. Pax nibbles on my lower lip, and
uses his tongue to wipe the little sting away. A moan erupts between
us, and I can't tell if it's from me or from him. Pax presses me
closer to him, and I put an arm around his neck bringing him nearer.

The soft kiss is
becoming harder.

He tastes like
something I've never known before; something wild and sweet and
forgiving. I soak it in like he's rain and I'm a barren land,
desperate to feel alive. One arm keeps me balanced, while his other
starts to move. I feel his fingers lightly brush against my arm, then
lower toward my back, and then lower still until he rests his hand on
the curve above my butt. I moan, and shift upward until his hand
falls to the curve of my ass. I don't mean to do it, but it feels
right
. Everything about what we're doing doesn't feel forced
or unnatural. It doesn't make me think about my life. It doesn't make
me worry. For once, I don't think at all.

He holds me tightly, as
if I'll fly in the wind if he doesn't keep me close. For one
agonizing moment, I feel heat and need, pleasure and pain, all at
once. It's a dizzying feeling. It's addictive, and if I could've
welded myself into him, I would've just to feel more of it.

Abruptly, he pulls
himself away, ripping his mouth from mine. Gasps fill the space
between us; hot, little breaths that do nothing to quench the
sensations inside us. Our eyes find each other.

"Wow."

Who said that? I don't
know. Maybe we both did.

I watch him swallow.
His neck is beautiful.

"You're…"

I blink nervously.
"What?" I whisper.

"Everything."

I'm not sure what that
means, but the way he says that word makes me think he's given me the
biggest compliment of all.

"You're not so bad
yourself," I say softly back.

"Oh, you
know…natural charm and all that."

I pinch his chest. It's
like pinching a wall. He raises an eyebrow as if to say he's
invincible. I try again; I pinch his nipple.

He jumps. I smile
triumphantly at him.

He kisses me on the
mouth. Before I can respond, he pulls back. He sees the look on my
face. "I want us to actually
have
a date, and if I keep
kissing you we'll be here all night." He lets me up. "I
spent all day on this and we need to enjoy it."

I'm surprised and more
than a little flattered when I sit up. We're not on the ground;
there's a soft blanket underneath us that I didn't notice before. A
basket is a foot away and I face him with wide eyes as I realize what
we're doing.

"Are we having a
picnic?" I ask.

"A picnic on the
cliff, watching the sunset, yes."

I watch him in a daze
as he grabs the basket. His hand goes inside, and he starts taking
things out. "I burnt a finger on this stuff so I hope you enjoy
it." He sounds adorably upset and I almost ask him which finger
it is so I can kiss the pain away. My gaze follows his movements and
I see each item he unpacks. The first are cookies. "My friend,
Pillsbury, helped me with these," he explains as he sets the
plate of chocolate chip cookies in front of me.

"You and Pillsbury
did a good job," I reply, deadpan.

"We're a good
team," he agrees, just as serious as I.

Next, he takes out what
looks to be two large Panini sandwiches. "Mozzarella, tomato,
lettuce, chicken and bacon with a creamy ranch chipotle sauce,"
he tells me.

"Impressive."

"It only took me
three tries and two hours to perfect the combination."

The way he says it
makes me want to kiss him.

Next, Pax takes out
what looks to be a dessert. It's in a clear container and he lifts
the top off so I take a peek. "Beeramisu," he tells me
proudly.

"Beerami-
what
?"

"Beeramisu,"
he repeats. "It's the man version of tiramisu. Found it on the
web. Figured I needed something to keep my manhood intact since I
made all the rest of this stuff."

"What are you
talking about? Manly men make Paninis," I tease.

He shoots me a glare.
"I only made it because every woman I've ever been with enjoys
Paninis and Cade's ex-girlfriend left her Panini maker at his
apartment. They're not on speaking terms so he can't give it back."

My mood shifts downward
a little when Pax talks about other women. How many women has he been
with exactly? I shouldn't care.
The past is the past,
I remind
myself, but the thought is like a little mosquito in my head,
buzzing. Maybe he notices something on my face because Pax switches
the topic.

"So how do you
like Mad town?" he asks me as he unwraps a sandwich.

"It's good."
I think about Nat and the ridiculous stories she tells me. "Crazy,
but good."

"For the record,
I'm
very
normal," Pax assures me. "Not a bit crazy."
Pause. "In fact, the sword I carry on my back is for the sole
purpose of protection only."

"Oh?" I raise
an eyebrow, not missing a beat. "Might be hard to hit on a girl
with that sword though. I keep mine locked in my car for
emergencies."

He hands the sandwich
to me. "Beware. I'm also an expert at throwing rocks."

"Really? I'm an
expert at spitballs. We should form a superhero team." I take
the sandwich. Pax's hand closes over mine.

"Our team name
should be Rock 'n' Balls."

"Great." I
don't bat an eyelash. "I love balls."

His mouth quirks as his
hands tighten around mine. "What kind of balls?"

My heart's beating
loudly in my ears. I've never done something like this before, but
the rapport between us is so effortless, so organic and natural. I
don't feel like I've just met him. I feel like we've been around each
other for years.

Pax's eyes are a
mixture of sparkling amusement and hot intensity. I
feel
his
attraction to me. I feel his interest like a magnet. He waits for my
reply and my boldness grows stronger.

"Oh, you know, all
kinds." I try to sound casual. "Big, small, crooked,
striped, hanging… What sorts of balls do
you
like?"

"I like football…
does that count?"

"Ah, you like
oblong brown balls then. To each his own."

Silence.

"Actually, I like
soft balls," he tells me seriously. "Pairs of soft balls.
The sort of balls with a nipple growing out of them."

I'm torn between
laughing and blushing until my face feels like it's going to melt
off.

"My favorite thing
isn't even a ball," he continues, staring at my face. "It's
this girl with beautiful gray eyes that remind me of a perfect
storm." I suck in a breath. "She's vulnerable and strong. I
want to know what makes her tick, yet I want to save her from
everything that does at the same time." He moves closer to me.
"She's unlike any person I've ever met. She's sweet and funny
and the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Everything he's saying
makes me feel deliciously warm. The way he's making me feel now is
something I've never felt before. He sounds genuine. Someone like him
has probably had lots of practice saying this sort of thing to a
woman, but the vulnerability in his eyes can't be faked. The way his
breath catches when I sidle closer can't be forged. The hunger
dominating his face is so raw, I feel its power from where I'm
sitting. I close my eyes.

Our lips meet in the
middle.

No one ever told me
falling for someone could be so damn easy.

My heart wasn't
prepared for someone like Pax.

This kiss is just as
sweet as the first one. His lips make my whole body feel like I'm
riding a giant wave. Adrenaline rushes through me making my lungs
feel tight, but the excitement inside bubbles through, simmering like
a volcano. Pax nips my lips gently and then pulls away. He holds my
face in his hands.

"We seriously are
never going to get to downtown if we keep this up." He looks so
regretful when he watches me move back that I giggle.

"Let's eat,"
I say, picking up the Panini that I'd set on the basket. I take a
small bite at first, weary about his cooking skills. I'm pleasantly
surprised when my mouth is filled with a burst of flavors. It's spicy
from the chipotle sauce, and the cheese is perfectly melted, going
into every part of the sandwich.

"That good, huh?"
he asks, watching my face.

I nod. "Hmm-mm,"
I reply, closing my eyes.

"It's like an
orgasm in your mouth." His voice is husky. I keep my eyes closed
so I don't have to reply. Even with my eyes squeezed shut I picture
Pax. The thick black hair with some ends curling ever so slightly.
Green eyes. A strong square face. That dimple.

We finish the rest of
the meal continuing in the same vein in which we started- laughing
and joking about random things that have no particular meaning to our
lives. When we're done, I help Pax clean up, folding the blanket
neatly into his basket. I'm touched that he spent so much time on
this; even coming earlier to set it up for us. I decide I need to
plan something for him as well, just to show my appreciation.

Plastering a smile on
my face, I poke Pax in the ribs. "Don't think I forgot," I
tell him.

"Forgot what?"
His eyes are innocent.

I roll my eyes. "Your
talent
. Yodeling."

"Guess you want
that second date, huh?"

I poke him again-
harder. "Yodel," I command.

He stands up and walks
to the edge of the cliff. There's nothing but lake water below, and
with the sun slowly setting, the waters reflect shades of gold and
orange. He turns back to glance at me, as if making sure I'm ready.

I scrunch up my face.
"Do it already."

Pax takes a deep
breath. "Yodel-lay, yodel-lay, yodel-lay, hee- whoo! Yodel-lay,
yodel-lay-yodel-lay-yodel-lay-yo
del
-lay, hee
whoo
!"

Immediately after the
last note, I hear an owl call back. "Whoo! Whoo!"

I burst out laughing.
"Are you sure you were yodeling or mimicking an owl?"

He turns back. "Hey!
For your information, my mother taught me those notes."

I'm not sure if he's
joking or serious. Since I know his mother is dead, I don't want to
say anything that might be offensive. "Did she say you were any
good?"

"Nah, she said I
was worse than a foghorn."

I laugh. He joins in.
We stay like that for a while longer, amid a backdrop of the most
beautiful sunset I've ever seen. It's the perfect picnic. A night of
romance I didn't think I'd ever experience. He takes my hand again
and it feels natural.

Everything about us is
effortless.

One and a half years earlier

Everything about this
is wrong.

His hands in mine. His
body near mine. His breath against my cheek. It all feels wrong.
Wrong, wrong, wrong!

I force my body to stay
still. I force my breaths to come out evenly. I force my face to show
no emotions, and it takes everything inside me to keep the lines
around my eyes smooth.

"Will you be my
girlfriend?" he repeats, louder this time in case I didn't hear
the first time.

I face Braidon. I see
the obsidian in his dark eyes. His thick black hair is combed
smoothly back and the tan complexion in his face looks pale in the
faint porch light. I feel like I'm on the precipice of something dark
and unknown. Ever since Grandma passed, I've walked this narrow edge
alone. Sometimes I wonder why I haven't fallen yet.

I feel trapped. The
debt collectors have stayed away. The townspeople have stayed away.
The only person who hasn't stayed away is Braidon.

It's not a coincidence.

I lick my dry lips.
"Braidon, we've known each other for so long… you've been
there for me through everything." My throat is thick with my
turmoil. He's been my rock before I knew I needed one. He was the
first to befriend me when we moved to Minnesota permanently years
ago. He helped me apply to finish my junior and senior year online
after Grandma passed. He helped take care of things around the house
when I could barely leave my room. He made me meals. He fed me when I
couldn't eat.