Then He Kissed Me: A Cottonbloom Novel (27 page)

Nash was good for her. He reminded her how to laugh, how to play, how to see the good around her.

The truck was bouncing through the ruts when he spoke again. “Where can we go?”

“There’s an overlook a few miles down. Teenagers go there to mess around.”

“You went there a lot?” The bite of animosity shortened his words. She could only assume it was motivated by jealousy. That shouldn’t make her happy. It did. She turned to the passenger window to hide her smile.

“I went down there to smoke a little weed, drink some beers.” She directed him to a secondary road.

The asphalt was crumbling along the edges, forcing him to drive down the middle. Trees encroached on both sides. A premature darkness covered them, but like switching on a light, they emerged onto the overlook, the sun not yet dropped behind the trees on the far bank. Warm orange light suffused through the cab, the effect surreal and magical. Compared to the stream behind their old houses, the river flowed by wider and wilder.

The overlook was deserted. He parked, rolled the windows down and turned the engine off. The subtle sounds of nature filled the silence. Crickets, cicadas, and bullfrogs weaved a harmonious song.

He shifted the seat as far back as it went and reached toward her breast. She hadn’t expected him to pounce on her like a horny teenager and tensed. He pulled the tie off her braid, the end hanging over her right breast. Her nipple hardened at the subtle brush of his fingers. With one hand, he unwound the first few inches.

“Get on my lap.” The command in his voice fired equal amounts of excitement and trepidation.

She scrambled over the console and straddled his hips, pressing her pelvis against his growing erection. He pushed her shirt up and over her head and broke the world record getting her bra off. The suddenness surprised her but before she could react, he tossed it to the floorboard.

“Geez, how much practice have you had undressing women?” Naked from the waist up and with his gaze roving her body with an intensity that was almost frightening, a protective instinct overcame her, and she covered her breasts with an arm.

He took her wrist, his hand big and strong and gentle. He could force her arm away, but he only held her wrist, his thumb caressing the underside. “I practiced with a bra on my pillow. After two grueling years of study, I got to put my honed skills to practical use my senior year in college.”

Pride and playfulness wove the admission. A laugh snuck out of her. She’d forgotten for a moment, this was Nash. He was a different breed of man than she was used to. The sense of trust he inspired relaxed her. Only then did he draw her arm away.

He took a swift, shallow breath. His chest seemed to move faster.

She laid a hand over his heart. “Do you need your inhaler?”

A smile crested his face, and he took a deep shuddery breath. “My asthma is not what’s stealing my breath. You’re so unbelievably beautiful. Will you take your braid out?”

Tears burned up her eyes. She tilted her head back, letting gravity pull them back down. Was she seriously teary because he’d spouted romantic nonsense? She blinked. Dangit, that’s
exactly
why she was teary. It was a forgone conclusion, she was officially a sappy romantic.

The tremble in her fingers slowed the process, but finally, she shook her hair around her shoulders. He shifted her on his lap, leaning her back over his arm. He nuzzled his face into her neck, kissing his way down to her breasts.

Her body was ridiculously responsive to his touch—almost embarrassingly so. Her nipples were already peaked and straining toward his mouth. The tickle of his stubble along the side of her breast shot fire through her veins.

She threaded her hands into his hair and forced his mouth to the tip of her nipple. “Quit torturing me.”

“Beg me.” His voice was rough and teasing at the same time.

“Please, Nash.”

“Please what?”

“Please, I’ve wanted you all day. Seeing you work with your shirt off, your pants riding low. God, I wanted to climb on top of you. I’ll bet half the ladies in town are going to dream about you tonight.” It didn’t matter they both still had pants on. The satin of her panties slipped against her as she ground herself against him.

He grazed her nipple with his teeth followed by the flick of his tongue, but she needed his mouth. Passion had burned away her pride.

“I dream about you every night, Nash. Dream about you taking me in every way imaginable.” It was all the truth, yet somewhere in her head, her conscience hit a panic button. The alarms didn’t have a chance to register.

He pulled her nipple into his mouth at the same time his hand covered her other breast, pinching her nipple between his fingers. Blinding sensation shot through her body as her hips bucked into his. The relief of her orgasm held any regret at bay. His head fell back against the seat, his eyes closed. She scattered kisses over his face. Each slow grind of her hips against him sent another wave of pleasure through her.

Her body was draped over his, her face buried in his neck, his hand roaming her bare back and into her hair. Slowly, her body ceased its undulations against his and she stilled. Had she dry-humped Nash? Why couldn’t she teleport like one of his superheroes? Or wipe his memory clean?

“Did that really happen?” His breath tickled the hair at her temple.

“I don’t know why—”

He gripped her hips and pushed against her, turning her bumbling explanation into a gasping moaning of his name.

“If I’m not inside of you in thirty seconds I’m likely to embarrass myself in my pants. Get naked—now.” He pushed her to the seat and worked on his zipper.

His command was easier to follow than trying to explain why she had no self-control around him.

Her shorts and underwear were off in record time. They reached for one another at the same time, and he pulled her back on top of him, taking her mouth in a kiss so devastatingly sensual, the buzz of pleasure hit her like a shot of his favorite single-barrel Scotch. She rocked her hips, this time nothing separated them, and she slid over him with the perfect amount of friction. Another climax hovered, ready for her to grab hold.

He maneuvered her hips up and fit himself at her opening, pushing inside of her a mere inch. “Look at me,” he said in a guttural, rough voice.

With her hands gripping the back of his seat, she pushed back from him, her body begging for more but his hands holding her out of reach. She tossed her hair over her shoulders, a whimper of distress escaping. She felt feverish, ready to keel over if he didn’t get inside of her. She rolled her hips, but his hands stayed tight.

“I love seeing you wild.” The look in his eyes burned away any embarrassment or shame.

“I need more. Please, Nash, I need your big, hard—”

He slammed her hips down. As the rhythm increased, his fingers bit into the flesh of her hips. She welcomed the almost-pain. It centered her in the moment.

Her body got what it wanted, what it needed, what she had been begging for. Another orgasm ripped through her like an EF5 tornado, destroying every flimsy wall she’d tried to erect around her heart.

He muttered a curse and pulsed inside of her. She squeezed around him, echoes of pleasure cascading down to her toes.

His head was resting on the seatback, his eyes closed. She lay a hand on his chest, worried about an asthma attack, but his breathing didn’t seem haggard or distressed, and his heartbeat thumped strong.

She cupped his cheek and ran her thumbs across his cheekbones and along the line of his jaw. He was handsome, but even more, he was kind. Why was she surprised? He’d always been different than the other boys. He’d never pulled her hair or called her names.

Instead, he’d taken her hand in kindergarten to show her a spider and explain how it was unfortunately non-radiated, so there was no chance of becoming Spider-Man.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him. Everything she couldn’t say aloud went into her kiss. What if he’d never come back to Cottonbloom? What if the circle hadn’t been completed? Would she have spent the rest of her life feeling incomplete?

But there was fear in the kiss as well. Fear of what the future held. She didn’t believe in fairytales or his comic books anymore. Life was hard and sometimes tragic for no reason. If the Fates decided to rip them apart again, then it would happen. Her uncle and his aunt were a living testament. A sense of melancholy made her kiss him all the harder.

His lips came alive under hers, and his gentleness tempered her desperation. With his hands running up and down her bare back and with him still inside of her, he calmed her fears.

His soft T-shirt caressed her breasts and the zipper of his pants pressed into her calf. He hadn’t managed to get his pants all the way off. She smiled against his mouth. The fact she could smile, even want to laugh, after the most intense sexual experience of her life steamrolled through her.

She loved him.

She pressed her lips harder against his to keep from saying the words aloud. It wasn’t shock or fear or even happiness that sent tears like little pinpricks at her eyelids. It was relief. Of course, she loved him. How could she not?

Her profound, almost painful, vulnerability was offset by the safety he imparted with every look and touch. The urge to tell him stamped out any logical arguments. She pushed back from him. His head tilted and his hands stilled on her back. Expectation thickened the air. Her breaths came faster, and she wet her dry lips, ready to be truly reckless.

The sound of an engine getting closer was like a pin to a balloon, breaking the sense of solitude. The whoop of voices out of opened windows carried through the evening air.

He pushed her off him and had his pants up and buttoned in two seconds. She yanked her T-shirt on, forgoing the complications of her bra, and shimmied her underwear and shorts back on.

He cranked the engine and had them moving even before her shorts were zipped. He looked over at her with his eyes bright with laughter. “Well there’s another thing checked off the list. At the rate we’re going, we’ll get all this craziness out of our systems before the end of the month.”

“Yeah, maybe.” A rush of awkwardness shifted her away from him. His sperm soaked her panties, clammy and uncomfortable. It seemed nothing momentous had happened for Nash. He was still busy checking things off his list.

A black SUV broke the tree line, followed by a nineties-era sedan with rusted-out side panels. Nash waved a hand out the window before hitting the narrow, washed out road, leaving the teenagers to their mischief.

Thank the sweet Lord she hadn’t said anything. Those rednecks deserved a thank-you note or cheese basket or something. There was no reasons for her feelings to be hurt. After all, she had been the one to suggest getting it on in his truck.

Despite the logic, her heart ached like Nash’s punching bag. She banged her head against the headrest a couple of times.

“Imagine them arriving ten minutes earlier.” He chuckled. “Would you have been embarrassed or kept on going?”

Under the trees, twilight had fallen. She stared out of the passenger window into the dark forest. Her hurt feelings morphed into anger. While she had gotten gooey with love, he’d been playing out his favorite internet video. “Of course, I would have been mortified. I’m not a porn star.”

The truck slowed. “I was just teasing.”

“I’m tired. Could you take me home?”

“What’s wrong?” He stroked down her arm. She scooted out of his reach.

“I’m tired. That’s all. The thing with Uncle Delmar and all our late nights … I’m tired.”

“Tired. Right.” They didn’t talk on the drive back to her apartment, but his hands were tight on the steering wheel.

He didn’t park but pulled up to the curb leading to the stairs. As her hand made contact with the door handle, he locked the doors, making her attempt useless. “What the hell, Nash? You want to role-play some prisoner-captive fantasy now? Maybe videotape it this time?”

“I’m not letting you do your thing and run away. Tell me what is going on in that beautiful, maddening head of yours?”

She wadded up her bra, stuffed it under her leg, and wished she could break the window and shimmy out like Daisy Duke. “You’ve become kind of, I don’t know, important to me.”

“You’re important to me too. I thought I’d made myself pretty clear about that fact.” Exasperation strung his words together.

“Back there, you sort of made me feel … trashy. Like all you were doing is checking things off some sex list you’re keeping.”

“There is no list. Never was. The only reason I agreed to the list idea was to spend time with you.” He muttered a few choice words. “I want to date you. I want to be your man. Do I need to spell it out for you?”

She jerked around. “That was uncalled for.”

Confusion flickered over his face before it hardened. He unlocked the doors and faced the windshield, his hands gripping the wheel so tight his biceps flexed. “How about you give me a call when you’ve grown up and decided not to sabotage anything good in your life?” His voice held an unfamiliar edge.

She fumbled with the handle before throwing the door open and hopping out. He peeled out of the parking lot before she’d even made it to the stairs.

Her tension ebbed into the darkness and left a simmering anger, but she wasn’t sure if it was directed at her or him. She trudged up the steps and knocked on Ms. Effie’s door.

Locks jangled and the door opened. Ms. Effie’s hair was in rollers and she wore a pink terrycloth robe. “You look like someone shot your dog.”

“I feel even worse. Is it too late for a visit?”

“’Course not. I was getting ready to paint my toenails and watch a Hallmark movie. Come on in.”

Tally closed the door and took up her customary seat on the couch. Ms. Effie would have to start charging her for therapy soon. “Nash and I broke up. I think. He told me to grow up.”

Ms. Effie shook a bottle of purple sparkly polish and stayed suspiciously quiet.

“Do you think I self-sabotage?”

“Sounds like someone’s been watching too much Dr. Phil.” Ms. Effie didn’t look up from applying the polish to her big toe. “What do you think?”