Summer's Desire (47 page)

I open one eye
and find him standing right next to me, a small plastic case in his hand. He's
staring down at me, his expression unreadable, his eyes too dark a blue. I open
my other eye as well and gaze back at him, pouring over his masculine features.
He's so heartbreakingly beautiful.

I smile at him.
"Did you find your transistors?"

He nods and
crouches down. He sets the case down on the floor and leans closer to me until
our faces are less than three inches apart. He watches me in silence. Suddenly,
the darkness in his eyes splinters, and devouring, uncompromising possession flares
up. Then the inches separating us dissolve in a flash of movement, and his lips
land on mine—devouring and uncompromising in their demand. His powerful arms
slide beneath me, and he rises easily to his feet, with me in his arms.

It all happens
so quickly that for a few moments I can't react at all, too caught by surprise.
His hold on me is too tight and the press of his mouth is too rough, and I feel
an unfamiliar urgency in him, riding him hard.
Should I be scared?
I
half-wonder. But then all thought disperses as his unleashed passion keeps surging
against me—and I'm overcome. My mouth opens under his, and my arms rise up to
curl around his neck.

And then he's
already setting me down, on the bed in our room, and he is settling above me. When
his weight covers me, heavy and comforting, my body shivers in a shock of delight.
When his mouth slants over mine, I sip at his lips. When his tongue pushes between
my lips, I tug at it with relish. His taste is more addictive than my favorite
chocolate, more intoxicating to me than the most powerful drug. I savor him endlessly,
and whatever his mouth demands—I give. I let him kiss me deep and deeper, wet
and sweet, and I moan at the exquisite sensations he incites in me.

When his arms
draw me closer, my hands tunnel in his inky hair and pull him down to me. When
his knee presses between my thighs, they immediately open up for him so he can
settle in-between. I feel the physical proof of how much he wants me, and I
shudder again and I moan. Every cell in my body quivers in need. In a very
deliberate movement, I rub against his hardness, and he growls in my mouth and
pulls back from the kiss.

My hands fall to
either side of my head, and I watch him through a haze of yearning. He smoothly
lifts himself off me and sits up, trapping my lower legs between his knees. Both
of us are breathing as hard as if we had run the Olympics marathon, and my
heart is a sledgehammer inside my chest. In a swift movement, he removes his T-shirt,
baring the beautiful musculature of his torso. Just like the first time I ever
saw his naked chest, all I want is to lick him all over. And now I can.

I reach out
toward his belly and the first contact jolts me like touching lightning—and him
as well. I curl my hands around his waist and try to sit up, and when he sees
my intent, he helps me raise my body up to him. Now I'm mere inches from his muscular
chest, and I marvel again at the perfection of his build. With a moan of excitement,
I start to lick his smooth, salty skin. When my tongue reaches a flat male
nipple, I bathe it with slow, wet licks and pulls. And then I let him feel just
the slightest edge of teeth.

He growls again,
and his hands move to my camisole and start to tug it up. At first I don't help
him because I don't want to take my mouth off his delicious skin for even one
second. But then he touches my breast through my clothes and I jerk like a live
wire. I lift my hands at last, obeying his unspoken demand. He takes my camisole
off and I'm left in just my bra.

His eyes are an
inferno of passion, a true outside reflection of the inferno that roils low in
my belly. He pushes me lightly onto my back, and I flow with the movement. Our
gazes stay locked to each other the entire time. Even when I feel his hands
going to my waist. When he unfastens my jeans. When he tugs at my jeans, and I
raise my hips so that he can take them off me. Even when he unzips his own
jeans and takes them off, we still don't look away from each other's eyes.

With each quiet
second, with each discarded garment, my heartbeat accelerates until it goes so
fast and I feel so hot that I start to whimper in need. When I bite my lip to
stop the sound, his glowing eyes break away from mine at last. They stray to my
mouth, and in a deep, hoarse voice, he says, "Don't do that, Sunny. It
pushes me beyond all restraint."

And then he's
lowering himself on top of me. His hands bury themselves in my hair and his
mouth finds my own. Each wild, out-of-control kiss drives my need higher, until
I'm desperate for release. I open my legs wider and rub against his arousal. I
arch up into him and he thrusts down, and even through the two layers of undergarments
that are still separating us, the steely touch and feel of him is more than I
can bear.

My hips keep
pressing up against him and his keeps pushing down, and each time he hits the
exact spot I need him to, and each time I moan. My hands clench in the warm
flesh at his waist, and his right hand disengages from my hair and starts on a
downward journey.

His wicked
fingertips stroke a burning path across my body. I tremble beneath him and push
harder into our already ferocious kiss. Then his hand reaches the upper slope
of my left breast, and I whimper in anticipation. His hand glides lower and
curls around the plush weight, and my lacy bra may as well not exist for how
much protection it offers.

He molds my
breast, starts kneading it gently... and oh merciful heaven, I don't know how
I'll live through the terrifying, beautiful, excruciating sensations that he
makes me feel! I sense the heat of his body and it burns me. I yield to his
sinful mouth and sweet delirium scalds me. I arch into his flexing hips—and I
detonate.

My body goes
liquid and stiff at once, caught in an endless storm of shudders. He kisses my
closed eyelids softly and moors me throughout the shockwaves that keep breaking
over me. On the other side, I come out—as ever—changed that slightly bit more.
I lift my eyelids for him and know that my eyes are, as ever, soft with wonder.
Whereas his eyes are, as ever, still fierce with need.

This is as far
as we've ever come—though usually with everything that just happened repeated
once or twice or, on one very memorable night, thrice more. This is, then,
where he always stops.

This is when his
hands go to the clasp of my bra and break the pattern.

His eyes are
fixed on mine, incandescent with desire and obsession. And defiance too, I
think. He undoes the front clasp and removes my bra, and I let him. He tugs my
panties off, and I don't tell him no. He takes off his boxer shorts, and I
don't even think to stop him.

This time when
he covers me, we're intimately skin to skin. His magnificent, terrifying erection
nestles against my upper thighs, scorching my skin. His hands find my own in
the soft bedding and our fingers entwine. His eyes hold mine captive in a
prison made out of his fierce determination and my helpless—and
willing—surrender.

Then he shifts
to the side and half-above me, braced on his forearm, and his eyes free me so
they can glide in a slow, thorough exploration of my naked body. It's hard not
to tug my hands from his and try to cover up... but I resist the impulse. I've
revealed to him all of my soul—both the light and the darkness—and he owns it
forever. So I won't hide my body from him either, and if he wants it, he can
have it too. I want him to touch and own every part of my body just like he already
has with my soul.

Still, I can't
help the blush covering me in a rosy blanket of bashfulness. And I can't help
but tremble at the burning intensity in his eyes as they travel down then back
up my body and in so doing touch me like a physical caress. The fire in my core,
so recently sated, stirs again.

At last his gaze
returns to my own, and if I thought before that his eyes were incandescent with
passion, now they've turned super-nova with it. In a voice made almost
unrecognizable with desire, he tells me, "You're so beautiful, Sunny."

I smile shyly;
I'm happy he thinks that, but really—"You're the beautiful one,
Seth."

"I love you."

"I know,
and I love you. Seth... I'm yours."

Afterward, he
whispers in the darkness, "You really forgave me for Friday night?"

"Yes."
I take a deep breath. "But Seth, I need you to make me a promise."

He keeps very
still, probably anticipating my next words and not liking them one bit.

"I need you
to promise me that you'll never do it again."

"Sunny...
Baby, we still need money. Now that school is winding down, I was planning on
doing as many fights as possible until we leave for Ann Arbor."

"Seth, this
is very important to me."

"Sunny..."

"I know you
want to earn us more money to secure our future. But the money you have now and
your scholarship will have to be enough."

"It won't
be enough," he cautions gruffly.

"Then we'll
make do. I'll take a part-time job and we'll apply for student loans. Seth,
we'll figure it out."

"But why
make our life so much harder when there's no need?"

"I need to
know that you aren't participating in any illegal fights so that I can feel
safe. I
need
this, Seth. Please."

I wait in
silence, and finally I hear him give a deep sigh—soul-deep, it seems. "If
I promise you this, you'll promise to never leave me? Never, no matter what
happens?"

My body turns to
stone in his arms. Then I force myself to relax and stroke his beautiful,
muscular back as far as I can reach.

"I promise,
Seth."

"Then I
promise you too."

"No more
illegal fights?"

"No more,
Sunny."

I sigh in
relief. Seth has never broken any promise he made me. I can rest assured that
he won't be breaking this one either, regardless of what else may happen.

Silence closes
around us once more.

Later still,
after he's fallen asleep at last, I try to disengage from his arms. He's
embracing me so firmly it's hard to slip from his arms, but somehow I manage
without waking him. Then I lie down on my side beside him, head propped on my
hand, and just watch him.

My eyes trace
his heartbreakingly handsome features. He looks so much younger in sleep—but
not innocent. For even now he retains that edge of ruthlessness that's so much
a part of him at all times. Not innocent, my Seth—but still so infinitely
beloved. I've loved him nearly my entire life and somewhere along the road, a
long time ago, I've also fallen in love with him for life. Yet still it took
tonight for me to understand how much deeper and sweeter love can cut.

In this moment I
love him more than I ever have, and I know that in all moments of the future I'll
love him just as much as I do now—or more.

Silently, I rise
up from the bed. Moving on light feet, I gather my scattered clothes and go
into the living room. Behind me, I shut the bedroom door noiselessly. As I
quickly get dressed, my heart and mind hammer against their walls—feeling and
reason battling each other.

I won't let
Jessica destroy Seth's future. I want him to have the good life for which he's
worked so hard, the good life that he deserves—and there's nothing I wouldn't
sacrifice to ensure that he gets it.

My resolve
hardened to steel, I walk to the door.

Chapter 33

The bedroom door
slams open behind me and I whirl around, my heart somersaulting in fright.

Seth's standing
in the open doorway, naked and intimidating and so powerful that he looks like an
olden warrior king of Sparta I once saw in a book. He's shaking—with fury, I
realize as my eyes fall on the item he's holding in his hand. The bag I packed
earlier.

Oh dear God,
please have mercy!

"You forgot
your bag," he tells me, and I feel a whole-body shudder pass through me at
the frigid, cutting quality of his tone. Then he hurls the bag violently to the
side, and I flinch anew.

"When did
you find it?" I ask him in a cowed whisper, grasping at straws, playing
for time until I figure a way out of this horrible mess.

"Earlier."

"Before we
made love," I say and it's not a question. I realize he must have found the
bag wedged behind the closet when he rummaged around looking for his freaking
transistors. And I realize that the moment he came back to me, after he'd found
it, he was determined that this night would only end one way—with me no longer
a virgin.

"You
deliberately set out to seduce me?" I ask him, awed by his sheer
ruthlessness.

"I thought
that if we made love, you wouldn't be able to leave me," he tells me
bitterly. "But obviously, tonight didn't mean for you what it did for me. Tell
me, Sunny, what was this for you? A pity fuck before you stole away like a
thief in the night?"