Run (13 page)

       “Nah.” He nudged my legs apart and stepped between them. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

       Too late, I remembered the whiskey experiment. “I didn’t come here—”

       My words were lost to his kiss, his lips deceptively gentle, the underlying heat shooting straight through me and calming the nervous wings. The noise of the bar faded to a low hum, need rising as he toyed with my mouth.

       He fit me. He fit me entirely too well, how easily he read my cues, anticipated what I needed and took me there. My heart slammed into my ribs, threatening to break free and fall splat at his feet.

       And he’d take care of it, too.

       “I don’t care why you’re here,” he whispered against my lips. “Just like seeing you at the end of the day.”

       
Splat
.

       Time was irrelevant to the heart, if you believed it was more than the organ pumping blood through your body. It wanted what it wanted, and mine wanted Trevor. It wanted this infuriatingly sweet, calm man who’d fuck me unconscious if I asked. I pressed my mouth to his once more, ignoring the whispered doubts.
Too soon. He wants to fix you. Don
’
t get attached. This isn
’
t your place
.

       “You keep saying stuff like that, it’s going to go to my head.” I eased back.

       “Good.” He gave me another quick kiss. “Didn’t mean to scare off your friend.”

       I spun the stool around. Celia was standing in the middle of the three men, beer in one hand, free hand waving in the air as she illustrated some point. “Not your fault. I should have told you to get lost. Tits before dicks, you know.” I picked up my abandoned beer. “She drove me out to pick up my car.”

       The warmth from his hand, cupped around the nape of my neck, spread over my skin. He glided his hand down my back, resting just above my butt. “C’mon. I’ll introduce you to the rest of the crew.”

       Celia’s laugh reached us first. She grinned at me as we stepped up. “Ken, you should have brought me here sooner.”

       Trevor squeezed my hip. “McKenna, this is Zane, Mark, and Todd.” Each guy held up a hand in greeting as his name was called, and it didn’t slip my notice that Zane’s gaze immediately went back to Celia.

       Seeing Trevor with his friends added another piece to the picture I was creating. There was the kind, polite side, the caretaker side, the bossy side, and now I was being treated to a new side. He’d obviously known the guys for a while, their camaraderie tight yet easy.

       The evening spun out from a single beer to a burger at the restaurant across the lot, Celia snuggled up next to Zane and giving him such blatant come ons I almost choked on my laughter a few times.

       “Please tell me Zane’s single,” I murmured to Trevor, remembering her unicorn comment from earlier. Zane hadn’t returned any of Celia’s flirty touches, but he kept staring at her like she was the shiniest, coolest toy in the box. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was shy and afraid to make a move despite Celia’s obvious interest. There was something in the way he held himself back, though, that rubbed me the wrong way. Like she was wearing a “look, don’t touch” signs and he really, really wanted to touch. After our conversation earlier today, I didn’t want Celia to walk into yet another situation like the ones she’d been stuck in before.

       Trevor’s hand flex on my thigh, and I stiffened. The tension between my shoulder blades increased as he nuzzled my temple, the brush of his lips along the shell of my ear momentarily distracting. His whispered
no
broke the knot, and I slumped against the seat.

       How was I going to tell Celia without making a big deal out of it? I had to tell her before she did something dumb, like go home with him. I found the whole “bathroom in packs” thing ridiculous. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to catch her eye. I finally did, flicking my gaze to Zane and giving a discreet shake of my head. Short of texting her—and there was no guarantee she’d actually pull her phone out to check it—I didn’t know what else do to. Maybe I’d get lucky and she had some latent mindreading skills.

       A tiny line formed between her brows, smoothing out as Mark, the guy with dark eyes, dark hair, and golden skin, nudged her and started relaying some ridiculous story about his dog. Celia’s laugh was unadulterated amusement, a little smoky, a little sultry, and absolutely genuine. She shifted a little closer to him, and Mark grinned like an idiot. Zane did not look pleased.

       Cockblocking achieved.

       Mark shot me a look, and I smiled.

       Celia didn’t exactly ignore Zane after that, but she didn’t give him her undivided attention, either, and by the time we trooped out of the restaurant, I was confident there’d be no broken hearts tonight.

       “What the hell was that all about?” she hissed, Trevor and his friends several feet behind us.

       “According to Trevor, Zane isn’t single. I didn’t want you to waste your energy on a guy you couldn’t have.” We reached our cars, and I fished my keys out of my purse. Her silence worried me, and when I looked over, her eyes had gone red and watery. “Ah, shit. Cel—”

       She shook her head. “No, don’t. My luck sucks, okay? It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” Sniffling, she pasted on a smile. “At least it stopped before anything really happened. Most of the time I don’t find out until we’ve hung out a couple times.”

       Guilt crept up and tapped me on the shoulder, an all too familiar sensation. “You busy the rest of the evening?”

       She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do,” she said. “If the next thing out of your mouth has anything to do with ice cream, I might have to smack you.”

       “Actually, I was going to suggest cookie dough and the
Transporter
movies.” She let out an exasperated sigh, peering at me through the gloom of twilight. “Tits before dicks, hon. I knew there was the possibility I’d run into Trevor tonight if we came here, and I’m sorry. This should have just been the two of us, hanging out. I don’t want to be the woman who has to spend all her free time with her boyfriend. C’mon. Girl’s night in. Yeah?”

       Mouth twisting in an embarrassed smile, she dropped her gaze to the ground. “Tits before dicks? Haven’t heard that one before.”

       “I made it up. I’m awesome like that.” My last girl’s night, with Beth and Kerry, was like a photograph. A single, perfect snapshot, four days before I’d snuck out of Bend. The blanket of melancholy was lighter that night, and I’d actually had a great time.

       I wanted that again. I wanted to gorge on it, fuel my soul with Celia’s jibes and laughter the way Trevor’s kisses fueled my heart.

       “Sugar cookie dough. Way better than chocolate chip. I’ll text you my address.” With another grin, Celia climbed into her car and drove out of the lot, turning left onto the street.

       Trevor made his way toward me. “Losing you tonight, darlin’?”

       “Yup.” I slipped my hands into the back pockets of his jeans and squeezed. “I need a girl’s night.”

       He cupped my nape, threading his fingers through my hair. “Hard to argue with that, when you look so eager. Don’t,” he added, kissing away my sudden frown. “I like seeing it on you. Happy and eager. You call me when you’re done, come stay with me again.”

       I frowned again, irritated. “Is this about my apartment again?”

       “Yeah. More about wanting you in my bed. That’s not a problem, is it?” He slicked his tongue over my lower lip, wiping away some of my annoyance. “Meet me halfway, McKenna,” he murmured. “You want to be stubborn and stay at your place, fine, but I’ll sleep better knowing you’re safe next to me.”

       How could I stand strong in the face of that? “Deal.”

Chapter Fourteen

       
Drip.

       
Drip.

       
Drip.

       The faint
plink
hadn’t been from the blood, though there’d been a lot of it. Deirdra had knocked a water bottle full of water over when she’d slumped onto the desk. The water had mixed with the blood, spreading it, turning it into a good-sized puddle at her feet.

       Trevor’s bathroom faucet had developed a drip sometime in the past few days.
Drip. Drip. Drip
. I lay awake, staring at his ceiling, counting the drips. I wondered if she’d done that. Counted as her life dripped out of her.

       She’d probably passed out from blood loss after a minute or so.

       This wasn’t doing me any good, lying there, pretending I could sleep. I eased out of bed and padded into the living room, curled up on the couch.

       I’d been doing better. A full week of restful nights, mostly at Trevor’s because he had a better mattress. My appetite had returned. I’d gone shopping with Celia and hadn’t spent the entire time looking over my shoulder.

       Stronger. I was stronger. Strong enough to know it was time to return to Bend and figure out where I belonged.

       
Drip.

       
Drip.

       
Drip.

       All the medication and therapy in the world couldn’t shove the guilt and anger into a box and chain it shut. It was this endless fucking cycle of a few steps forward and giant steps back, and I was tired of it.

       Something creaked, and Trevor’s shadowy figure stood in the hall entry. “Y’all right there?”

       “Couldn’t sleep. Your faucet drips now,” I added. “When’d it start doing that?”

       “Don’t know.” He sprawled out beside me on the couch, head tipped onto the back. “You ever been through an Austin summer?”

       “No.”

       “Gets really fuckin’ hot. Lived here all my life and I still think it gets really fuckin’ hot.” He reached out and found my ankle. Wrapping his hand around it, he tugged gently, and I crawled across the couch to straddle his lap. “What’s Bend like?”

       “Not nearly as warm. Highs are usually in the 80’s, though sometimes it gets up into the 90’s. Bellingham, where I grew up, is even cooler. It’s right on the bay.” Quaint and tidy. “I think you’d like Bellingham.”

       He trailed his fingers over my thigh. “Yeah?”

       I hadn’t spent any real time in Bellingham since undergrad, but homesickness for the familiar streets hit like a lightning strike. I wanted the trees and the water and the cold, damp air. I wanted to show Trevor my favorite trails and discover new ones, I wanted road trips over the mountains and nights curled up on the couch, listening to the wind. “Yeah. It’s smaller than Austin. Tons to do—hiking and skiing nearby, close to Vancouver and Seattle. It’s a small town, really, but it’s hard to get bored.” His touch was distracting. Lazy, feather-light caresses, sending shivers up my spine.

       He didn’t say anything more, just let his fingers drift along my skin. I shifted on his lap and looped my arms around his neck. “Trevor?”

       “Mmmhmm?”

       “If we’re not sleeping, I’ve got a better idea of what we can do.” I needed to get out of here. If I couldn’t have the clouds and the cool air, I’d take hot winds and stars. Jittery energy surged through my blood, rattling my foundations. I couldn’t let them shake apart.

       I threaded my fingers through his hair, rubbing his scalp. He groaned softly. “What’s your idea?”

       I scooted off his lap and stood. “It’ll require clothing. Are you okay to drive?”

       He stretched forward, cupped the backs of my knees, and pulled, tumbling me back onto his lap. “My idea doesn’t.”

       “Trev—”

       Warm, firm lips silenced my protests. Warm, coaxing, telling me it was okay to leave everything behind for a little while. That he was willing and eager, an active participant, and I wasn’t taking advantage of him. “I can’t,” I whispered against his mouth.

       “Can’t what?” He kissed his way down my neck, nudging the strap of my tank top off my shoulder. He palmed my ass and urged me forward, our hips notching together. “You’re shaking,” he murmured. He let his mouth wander over my skin, lips tracing the curve of my collarbone.

       
Make it better. Take it away, bury it, drown it, silence it.
His hands encouraged me to rock on him, evidence of his arousal pressing into me. “Oh, god.
Fuck
. Fuck me.” I sought his mouth and the peace it promised.

       With each stroke of his tongue, every brush of his lips, every gasp and moan and muttered curse, a bit of my anxiety fell away. I didn’t have to make a plan. I could take this night, these few hours, and
forget
.

       I scratched my nails down his abdomen, slipping my fingers under the waistband of his boxers, hesitating before I tugged at them. Not yet. If we weren’t sleeping, I was going to get the most from this I could. I curled down to him and suckled a kiss at the base of his throat, his answering groan vibrating against my lips. He retaliated by sneaking a hand under my tank and squeezing my breast, thumb circling the nipple.

       We’d done this long enough to follow cues and pick up nuances. His sharp, indrawn breath when I pinched his nipple said I should do it again, maybe on the other side. My wriggling hips when he kissed his way along the valley of my breasts told him to keep going. A hundred things, all leading to a hundred more, piling one atop the other until we’d made a mountain and a lifetime of body maps.

       There were no words. We didn’t need them. The room filled with the sounds of our ragged breathing, his hiss of pleasure, my broken moan demanding more. I’d let him take me apart, if he asked. And with every press of his lips to my skin, he did, so I gave.

       My panties were beyond soaked. He pulled at them, easing them over my hips, and I stood and kicked them free. For a brief moment, I wished we’d turned a light on. I wanted to see the lines my fingers traced, the angles my lips followed, how his eyes darkened the longer we teased each other.