Promise Me This (9 page)

Nate

I woke with softness and heat wrapped all around me. A sliver of daylight escaped through the heavy curtains of the hotel room, and as my eyes adjusted to the glow, everything that happened between Jessie and me came rushing back in full force.

I flinched and she felt it immediately, turning groggily in her sleep. Jesus fuck, that was the most sensual night of my life and we hadn’t even had sex. I had tied her up, used my mouth and teeth on her skin, and commanded her to stay still. I was a monster.

My heart became liquid and then leached down to my stomach. What happened between us last night could never happen again. Even though it seemed like she knew me. Saw inside me.

But she didn’t see all of me.

How I almost lost complete control because I was turned on beyond my wildest dreams. I could’ve pushed too far. I could’ve hurt her.

But you didn’t
, was the mantra inside my head. And somehow Jessie knew. She trusted me enough to know what I wanted. Needed. But why?

I sat up, resisting the urge to scramble away from her. Get my distance, clear my head. Stirring beside me, she opened her eyes. She gazed at me peacefully before her eyes transformed to confusion and melancholy.

“Hey,” she said, cautiously.

“Hey.” I stood up and realized I was completely naked. Her eyes roamed over my body and as she shifted, the covers fell away from her torso. Hell, I’d forgotten how nice her tits were and now, with the daylight streaming in the room and her tattoos on full display, I couldn’t help but remember how fine the rest of her body had been as well. How she smelled and tasted. Fuck, she tasted amazing. I couldn’t believe what I’d allowed my mouth and tongue to do.

She looked down at my lengthening presence and then into my eyes. She was confident and steady and I was a big fucking pussy. I looked away and cleared my throat.

She didn’t try to talk to me about what happened, didn’t mention anything at all. She didn’t even whine or ask me questions. She just stood up and reached for her clothes on the chair.

My eyes on her, taking in every single square inch of her body, she brushed past me to the bathroom. “Let’s get my tire fixed so we can get on the road and out of town.”

She knew I was checking her out and she didn’t even try to hide from me. She just let me look. Let me see what I’d be missing from this day forward. She was just that kind of girl. Strong enough to take my shit. Any shit I threw at her.

But I wasn’t strong enough to give it her—to allow her to see me fully.

I was petrified. She knew that as well. Fuck, how did this girl see me so clearly?

The door shut behind her and I heard the shower turn on. For a minute, I considered going in, pushing her against those cold tiles and burying myself deep inside of her. Forcing her hands up against the wall while I took her from behind. The image alone made a violent shiver race through me.

I went to the car for her after her shower, because she remembered she had some dry cleaning in the backseat. Then we got ready together in silence. She pulled on this soft skirt that went to her knees with the rock-and-roll T-shirt she wore last night. For the first time, I saw her as more of a pinup babe than an edgy girl.

With the black makeup no longer obscuring her eyes and the stiff gel washed away from her hair, Jessie was easily the prettiest girl I’d ever laid eyes on.

Thankfully the hotel also provided travel toothpaste, so I was able to brush my teeth after my shower. We gathered our belongings, checked our phones, and pretty soon, we were heading out the door.

When we got to the car, her tire was even lower, close to being all the way flat.

Without even arguing about who was driving, she handed me the keys and slid in the passenger side.

“I’d kill for some coffee right now,” she said. Her voice was groggy and it reminded me of how it had sounded last night. I adjusted myself and shifted into gear.

I drove to the garage and pulled inside. The place was packed with cars waiting to be serviced, but given our story, they agreed to squeeze us in. We had about an hour wait for them to check and plug the leak, which was the option Jessie had chosen, because she didn’t want to buy a brand-new tire.

I opened my mouth to warn against it, but then clamped it shut. I got it. She was struggling through college and didn’t have credit readily available like I did. A lot of my friends were in similar situations.

We hiked along the gravel road to grab breakfast at a nearby IHOP and as a truck roared down the street, I instinctually grabbed for her hand. She balked momentarily, but I ignored it. Switching sides, I positioned her away from the road, in case another semi came screaming by. It was a protective gesture and she squeezed my hand once, as if in thanks.

Her fingers were so small and I liked the weight and feel of them. I never held a girl’s hand before, besides my high school girlfriend’s, and certainly never paid attention to how it felt. Holding Jessie’s hand made it seem like I had someone in my corner, someone to lean on, someone who got me.

We sat in a booth by the window and ordered coffee and omelets. I liked that Jessie ate what she wanted to, even a side of bacon and hash browns, and didn’t act like she was constantly watching her weight like other girls.

She looked so soft and feminine today, even though her outfit showcased her sleeve of tattoos. The blue in her hair was hidden beneath the cocoa strands that were lying flat. She got stares wherever we went in this small town, but she wore her confidence well and that had always been what I liked most about her. Her poise and self-reliance.

But I saw a gentler side to her last night. A vulnerable side—when she’d begged me to taste her. And I wouldn’t be able to dislodge that memory from my head for a very long time.

I had no doubt that we’d just go back to being who we’d been to each other before this weekend. She was already playing the role and I appreciated that. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say a big part of me was bothered by it.

Wasn’t she suffering as well—that heaviness in my chest, nearly weighing me down, the knowledge that last night had been almost life-changing for me—wasn’t she feeling that, too? That she was the first girl I revealed that piece of myself to and even though I hadn’t planned on showing it, I was moved by our night together, transformed even.

As she sat there sipping her coffee, I wanted to grab her and shake her and make her see exactly what she’d done to me. How she’d sliced me open and laid me bare—exposed my inner parts that had been lying in the shadows. Then she’d know that I’d never forget what had happened between us and would probably always fantasize about my night with her.

But I also felt relieved that she couldn’t see inside me that way. Because then she’d realize that I’d wanted to take things even further, and she’d see just how much of a deviant I could be.

“So tell me about the place you wanted to show me yesterday,” she said, breaking me out of my weighty thoughts.

“Huh?” I said, staring at her full pink lips, my knee now jiggling a hundred miles an hour.

“Last night, at the bar,” she said. “You said you wish you had time to show me one more place but then my tire happened.”

“It’s this old abandoned railroad bridge,” I said, remembering how my brother and I had discovered it one day. How I’d gone there a couple of times by myself to sit and think, feeling like I was the king of the world, elevated that high. It had solidified my love of bridges. “You want to go, before we leave town?”

“Absolutely,” she said, a pretty smile lifting her lips.

We finished our breakfast and walked back to the service station. Her tire was filled and plugged, her truck ready to go. I slid in the driver’s seat while Jessie went inside to pay. When I heard the passenger door open and she slunk down, she said, “You can drive us to the bridge, but only because you know the way.”

I nodded, expecting what was coming next.

“But I’m driving home. My truck, my field trip.”

“Deal,” I grinned and backed out of the space. “But I’ll admit that I like driving Old Betty.”

“Betty?” Her eyebrows bunched together. “What the hell is that?”

“My name for her. Betty, like Betty Boop. She’s vintage, been through a lot, but she still looks and drives pretty darn good.”

I wouldn’t go so far as to tell her that she also reminded me of Betty Boop—like some damn sexy pinup girl—because she was liable to smack the shit out of me for a comment like that.

“How do you know my truck is a girl?” she said, looking out the side window. “Maybe it’s a guy and I’ve already got a nickname for him.”

“Guess you have a point,” I said pulling down the old dirt road leading to the abandoned railroad. “What’s his name then?”

“Uh. . . .” I could tell she was searching. “Bo.”

I snorted. “Bo?”

“Haven’t you ever watched
Dukes of Hazzard
?” she said, pretending to be indignant. “My dad loved that show. Bo drove General Lee and he was red, just like my truck.”

“Actually the color of General Lee was orange, even if the name of the paint was flaming red,” I said and her eyebrow arched in surprise. “But fine. You can call him Bo when you drive him and when
I
drive her, I’ll call her Daisy—for Daisy Duke—Bo’s cousin in that crazy-ass show.”

She laughed and then inhaled a sharp breath when she understood my meaning. I didn’t even know why I’d say such a thing—as if making the presumption that I’d be driving her truck all the time. It just felt natural and slid from my lips without thinking it all the way through.

“Pretty sure your flashy new car would blow my ride out of the water,” she mumbled.

“I’m not sure my ride would be able to handle the back roads like this one does,” I said, to cover my slipup. “Who knows when you’ll need to photograph more bridges.”

Jessie

I thought it would be more awkward around Nate this morning, but I was surprised how easygoing it’d been. I tried my hardest to act normal upon waking because of how emotional our time together had been last night.

Because deep down, I was a mess. I couldn’t shake the memory of what we’d done—what he’d done—and how he’d made me feel. And I wouldn’t shake it for a very long time.

As he pulled up to the grassy abandoned lot, I couldn’t stop the onslaught of warmth that continued flooding my chest ever since he named my truck and acted like we’d be hanging out in the future. At the very least, we’d still be friends. It didn’t have to be awkward when we saw each other again.

I gaped at the huge, ominous structure, a portion slanted up at a ninety-degree angle. Then I grabbed for my camera case on the seat. I’d seen bridges like this in vintage photos but never up close and personal. It was an enormous and rugged monstrosity sitting before me and with the blue sky as a backdrop, would be amazing to photograph.

Nate had come around the truck to open my door, startling me. “Ready?”

As he grasped for my hand to help me out the truck, my skin flushed from the contact. I couldn’t stop thinking of what a contradiction he was. Kind and considerate, by helping a girl out of the car. But behind closed doors, he was dangerous and demanding in all the best ways—if only he wouldn’t hold himself back in such a tightly sealed enclosure, desperate for release. He was terrified of himself.

But now, more than ever, I had a burning desire to know
why
he was so afraid. What had happened to push him there, to lock him away?

My thighs thrummed with longing from our unfinished business. I couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like to have Nate inside me. More than likely, it would rock my world. If last night was any indication of what being with him could feel like, so raw and wild, then maybe it was best that we walk away. Because otherwise, I might want to experience it again and again and again.

Nate didn’t repeat his hookups or even do friends with benefits. Not as far as I’d heard. And I didn’t do casual, either.

But could I do it with him?

I stood by the front bumper and adjusted the lens. He climbed on the hood of my truck to sit and watch me work.

“Tell me about this bridge,” I said.

“Let’s see if I can remember. It was built in the eighteen forties and was one of the first wrought iron truss bridges. It’s angled that way on the end because there used to be a shallow river down below,” he said, pointing beneath the bridge where tall weeds obscured the landscape. “And it would lower to allow the trains, which were once known as iron horses, to cross. Then would rise again if a boat needed safe passage.”

“So what happened?” I asked, focusing in on a closer shot. I loved hearing his history lessons. They made him sound so sexy and brainy. “Why isn’t it used anymore?”

“The industrial revolution happened. Expansive tracks were built to transport supplies across the country. Cargo planes, too,” he said on a breath. “This bridge wasn’t maintained properly and began rusting. The riverbed below dried up after a long draught. And now here it sits all alone.”

“That’s quite a story you just weaved for the poor lonely bridge,” I said, turning my camera and flashing it in his direction. I took shot after shot of him relaxed and gorgeous with his sleepy eyes and messy bedhead, before he finally raised his hand to protest. “How do you know so much about it?”

“My brother used to hang here with friends. You know, doing stupid kid stuff, like climbing up on the bridge to walk to the connecting tracks about a mile down the road and feel the vibration of the trains roaring by,” he said, looking off in the distance. “The bridge stayed down because of the dried-up river, but it was patrolled by the sheriff in town because there were a couple near accidents.”

I leaned back on the bumper and imagined a younger Nate. Then pictured a bunch of drunk teens trying to experience a high by the tracks.

“They finally got smart and raised the bridge for good. That’s when it became too hard to cross it,” he said. “But that’s also when I started to seek this place out by myself. Did it a couple of times just to sit and think.”

“It
is
peaceful around here, just looking up at this thing in all of its glory.”

“You mean looking
down
at it,” he said, hopping off the hood of my car. “I used to climb up there and look down at the world. Now, that was a sight.”

I couldn’t help my jaw from hanging open at his words, but it made sense for a daredevil like Nate. “Now I’m connecting the dots.”

“Want to see?” There was challenge in his eyes and I swallowed roughly. I bet photos from up high would be amazing.

“How . . . how do you get up there?”

“C’mon, I’ll show you.” He reached for my hand and I slid my fingers in his. I was getting used to holding Nate’s hand, the rough pads of his fingers, the smooth weight of his palms. I’d told Nate earlier of my slight fear of heights and as we neared the structure that loomed in the sky, my knees started knocking.

Trudging through the grass to the foot of the bridge, he turned to me. “Think you can climb this?”

I shook my head, my heart pounding. “I . . . I don’t know.”

“I’ve got you,” he said, leaning in and wrapping his arms around my waist. It felt safe and warm and good. Too good. He positioned me in front of him, nudging me toward the concealed iron steps that went all the way up top. “It’ll be worth it. I’ll be behind you the entire way.”

He suddenly lifted me and plopped me down over a smattering of tall weeds that had become overgrown. I squealed, then got my footing and looked up. The stairs were solid and my heart rate evened out as I began travelling upward. I knew not to look over the sides and having Nate so near helped me stay focused.

Nate kept his hands glued to my hips as I navigated overgrown vegetation to reach the top. I stopped all at once on the second to last step to catch my breath and his forward motion almost caused me to topple over. I felt his chest and hips slide up against me.

“Give warning if you’re gonna stop, Blue.” His voice was rough and close to my ear. I could feel his heart hammering at my shoulder blades. As he adjusted his hands to my waist, I felt him lengthening and pulsing behind me.

My shoulders unwound as I reveled in the contact, which in turn awakened the longing inside of me. A moan caught in the back of my throat and he pressed into me once, then twice.

We stood perfectly motionless, catching our breath, and basking in our closeness. I imagined him slipping his hands around to my breasts, which were now heavy and swollen.

“C’mon, let’s see this view,” he said, lifting me again so easily and pushing me over the threshold to the wooden beams.

My feet were uneasy as I looked down the length of the tracks. I knew my question was completely irrational when I asked, “Are you sure trains don’t cross anymore?”

“If one does, we’ll just jump out of the way.” Then I heard the rumble of a laugh travel through his chest as my lips trembled. “Kidding, Blue. It’s not even connected, remember? The bridge is raised at the end of that loop, look.”

My gaze journeyed to where he pointed and I saw the place where the tracks stopped and met air. I blew out a breath and then stared to my left.

“Whoa.” I cautiously stepped toward the railing and took in the remarkable view.

“Nice, right?” he said, beside me.

“More than nice,” I said. “Spectacular.”

It was all laid out before me. Both sides of town and even the cities beyond. I raised my camera from its strap around my neck and immediately began snapping. “What’s the view like at dusk?”

“You can see the next city’s lights,” he said, resting his elbows on the ledge. “But I wondered last night if it would be too dangerous to bring you here in the dark. I didn’t know how overgrown it would be or how many images you’d be able to get.”

“Good thinking,” I said. “This is perfect.”

I turned the camera and began shooting Nate, with the framework behind him.

“Will you knock it off?” he said, laughing.

“Nope,” I said. “My camera, my shots.”

“Oh yeah?” he said, grabbing my hands and pulling the strap from my neck. “How do
you
like it?”

He angled the camera toward me and took a shot. I didn’t like my photo being taken, go figure, so I hid my face and then advanced on him, attempting to cover up the lens so he’d stop. He slung the strap around his neck and it slinked to his chest as I play fought him and then pretended to bite him to relinquish my camera.

We were laughing and sweaty from the climb and our skin was touching and then all of a sudden we were kissing. His mouth hot over mine, our hands going crazy. He was licking and kissing and biting my lips and neck and ear. My fingers were roaming all over his chest and shoulders and hair. I tugged hard at his shirt as he firmly grasped my face. His tongue spiked out, forced its way past my lips, and he tasted me fully.

This was more than hungry and demanding. This kiss was different. This kiss was Nate giving it to me—giving me his all. I didn’t even know a kiss could be like this. So deep and all-encompassing that I could feel it beyond the quiver of my stomach and the ache of my thighs, all the way down to the soles of my shoes.

He groaned and then spun me around so that my back was flush against the railing. I was so blinded by passion, I’d almost forgotten I was up so high. He slipped my camera off of his neck in one smooth motion and gently laid it on the ground, before his hips thrust against mine pinning me in place.

“Fuck, Jessie,” he said, sliding his fingers up my ribcage. “Do you even know how incredibly sexy you are?”

My hands clung to his waist and I tugged myself more firmly against him. “I could ask you the same question.”

His breaths were heavy and harsh as he stared into my eyes, his fingers lightly grazing my breasts, his thumbs gliding over my nipples.

When I heard the chirp of a bird in a treetop, I looked over his shoulder and realized how secluded we were up here—cut off from the rest of the world—and damn, that fueled me even more.

“No one can see us, right?” I asked, just in case I was wrong about the sheriff patrols being suspended or something.

“No one,” he whispered.

We stood gazing at each other, both thinking the same thing, but neither one making the first move.

I trailed my fingers down his chest to his stomach and then gripped him through his jeans. “I want you to fuck me, Nate.”

He inhaled sharply through his nose. “Ah hell, Jessie.”

A war was waging behind his eyes. He was fighting himself hard again. There was pure and reckless need pulsing from his fingertips, throbbing through his skin, and I knew he wanted release.

We hadn’t gone all the way last night and suddenly I felt guilty for wanting him so damn much, pushing him too hard.

“It’s okay, Nate,” I whispered, pulling back from him. “If you don’t want to.”

He groaned. “Goddamn, I want to . . . so bad. I just don’t understand why
you
do.”

My eyes snapped up to his. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You were my safe zone, my safe girl,” he mumbled. “I didn’t think you’d even be attracted to me and then you go and . . .”

His safe girl? I shook my head trying to clear my thoughts. “And what?”

“And make me feel like you did last night . . . all hot and fucking out of my mind.”

He grabbed my face, yanked me forward and kissed me thoroughly, zapping the air straight from my lungs. Damn, I loved the way he kissed me. The way he gave me the one thing he claimed to have held back from others. But I wanted more.

I broke away, gasping for air. “For the record, I was completely out-of-my-mind hot for you, too.”

His fingers were mapping patterns on my thighs as he flattened me against the cool steel. We were up high with the entire city laid out before us, and damn if my brain wasn’t misfiring signals.

But I wanted to be honest and lay it all out there, even if it ended up hurting in the end.

“I know you’re struggling with something, and I think I know what it is,” I said, looking into his eyes. “But I’ve never had that before—the way it was with you last night. And I can’t help wanting to feel it again, wanting you to give it to me again.
All
of it.”