Wilson Mooney Eighteen at Last (18 page)

I noticed that our bags were still at
the bottom of the stairs, still waiting for us to carry them up,
but Max’s body language told me he didn’t want to worry about them
right then. He had an empty house and a girlfriend who’d saved
herself until this moment to go all the way with him.

“
Wait, I need my
suitcase,” I said pulling back on him. Max stopped and swung his
other hand, catching mine as he turned back to me.

“
Really—right now—this
minute?” Max whined.

I nodded.

Max snatched up his duffle bag and my
suitcase and lugged them upstairs; I followed behind, clinging to
his back pockets. Not even climbing Half Dome in Yosemite could be
this exciting. Okay, so I have to admit I’ve never been to
Yosemite, but climbing the stairs to my boyfriend’s room on my
eighteenth birthday was a hell of a lot more stimulating than
climbing a massive rock boulder.

I could feel the muscles in Max’s
backside flex as he took each step, and the view of him in his
fitted Levi’s was plenty for me.

“
You okay back there?” he
asked.

“
Yep,” I
puffed.

“
What did you pack in this
suitcase? It weighs more than my car.” He glanced back at
me.

“
Well, we are going to be
here for a week. I wanted to make sure I was prepared for
everything.” I adjusted my hands against the insides of his
pockets.

“
Everything,
huh?”

“
Yeah, everything,” I
teased.

When we reached the top of
the stairs he set my suitcase down and dropped his duffle bag. At
last we were on the same level. Comfort drenched his expression and
relief swarmed emphatically between us. He bent close, pressing his
body against mine, his hands hot from working, his lips damp from
waiting. He kissed me, soaking me in his want, before he dragged
his hand down my arm and pulled me to his room. We were finally
there. Our bodies spun around, and he pushed me against his closed
door. He was just far enough away to ignite a craving so intense, I
shivered. He stared into my eyes, looking at me so passionately I
could see his heartbeat quicken in his neck. I swallowed
hard.
I guess this is it. This is the last
time we will look at each other with the virtue of not knowing how
I feel to him and him to me.

“
Wilson, are you ready?”
he breathed across my neck before his lips tickled at my earlobe
and he pressed his entire body against mine. He caused my
butterflies to flock south. I wanted him so badly, I could explode
and it would be less painful. It ached deep in my core.

But how was I to know all the emotions
I was supposed to feel? My body, my heart, my soul wanted him
completely. It was my mind I had to convince. And quite frankly, it
was harder than I thought.

I shook my head
yes
, and felt his
intention shift quickly. I knew this was going to be it. My legs
went weak and I swayed sideways. His body followed me like a slow
dance.

Words couldn’t fill the thick moment
of anticipation between us, so we didn’t attempt to talk. He
reached across me and twisted the door knob. When I turned to walk
in, my heart somersaulted in my chest.

A canvas banner, with a burst of
confetti colors wishing me a happy birthday, spanned his huge
picture window. On his desk, a stunning kaleidoscope of tulips and
snapdragons erupted from a clear, square glass vase, and a bright
yellow envelope leaned purposefully in view. I stood for a speck of
a moment, taking in all the love that filled his room. It was
beautiful, and it was for me.

A smile streamed across Max’s face as
he looked around, surprised as I was.

“
Did you plan this?” I
asked as he came up behind me and lowered his chin to my
shoulder.

“
Well, would it make it
any more amazing if I did?” he whispered.

I nodded. It was pretty incredible and
overwhelming, like the many times before when he did things that
woke up my butterflies. I fought to push them back down into my
gut. But that never lasted long; the butterflies would always sneak
back up, causing my throat to go dry and my eyes to burn. Max
seemed to know exactly what to do to touch me deeply.

“
Honestly, the flowers
were my idea. The banner and card—that must be from my mom.” He
dragged his fingers across my hair, exposing my neck, before he
pressed his warm lips right below my ear. “My idea was the
helicopter—remember?” He continued kissing my neck, then I turned
and our lips met. He tasted better than ever before. Maybe it was
because I was finally eighteen. Or maybe it was the idea that I
wanted to be a part of what he had to offer.

Max kicked the door shut, his hands
strong across my back. Suddenly, we…were…on. No more waiting, no
more wondering what it was going to feel like to have each
other—completely. A replay of the events leading up to this moment
hung between us. A thousand horses tugged and carted our desires at
the speed of light, while our emotions galloped in plain sight. He
pulled my shirt up over my head, and his eyes fixed on my body as
he tugged his own shirt off. He tickled his fingers down my
shoulders, across my arms, and to the front of my black lace bra. I
knew it was his favorite because of the front snap.

Max was determined as his fingers
pushed and unsnapped the clasp between my breasts. Slowly he took
my bra off, soaking up the part of me he’d seen so many times
before. He lowered his head and pressed his warm, damp mouth
against me, teasing my nipple between his lip and tongue. Sparks
ignited downstairs as I gasped and held my breath. But unlike all
the times before, he didn’t stop to ask me if it was okay. This
time his intentions were crystal clear and all mapped
out.

We were topless and exploring each
other like it was our first time. His body cambered over mine, his
thigh muscle pressed firmly between my legs. Driving me back to the
bed with every step, he captured all the heat being created low in
my groin. My fingers clung to the muscles in his back as I felt
them flexing with every move, every dip, and every sway of his
body. I pressed my nose against his skin and inhaled his aroma,
faint with sultry pine and lavender. He was my Aspen.

The butterflies low in my
body kept encouraging me to go further. Who was I to argue? I
thought maybe my head, the literal side of me, would crumble and
give in to my emotional side—my heart. But I knew this was what I
wanted; I could feel every part of my body reinforcing the desire
to be with him, so why was I scared? It’s what I’ve waited for—the
moment of truth.
I’m finally going to give
Max that part of me we’ve both so zealously guarded; the part of me
nobody has ever known, not even me.

The back of my legs collided with the
edge of the bed and we both stopped kissing. Max pulled away and
pressed his hand in the space just above my breasts. My hands
slipped around his sculptured biceps. My heart spoke to him in
rhythm.

Mesmerized by his commanding green
eyes as they danced up my skin, he soaked up every square inch of
my body with a hunger I’ve never felt before, and spoke silent
answers for every question I felt.

When our eyes met, my butterflies
scrambled to regroup. He bit his bottom lip between his teeth,
teasing me into wanting him to skate the tip of his tongue across
every inch of my body. I wanted him all to myself, every moment of
every day.

I dragged my fingers down his arms
before I let them hover at the waist of his jeans. He pushed me
back, knowing I’d take him down with me. We tumbled onto his bed
together. His skin scorched mine and his muscles flexed stiffly as
he adjusted his weight to ride all the pleasurable points of my
body. The muscles in his arms and shoulders tightened as he lifted
his chest up off me, his weight shifting, causing his hips to swing
and drag heavily between my legs. With his head still lowered, his
shiny black hair tumbled forward and gave me the perfect
opportunity to tangle and lock my fingers in its wisps. I rose up
to kiss him. Our mouths opened and tasted our raw desire for one
another. His hands slipped behind me, and the heat from his skin
ignited me once again.

We rolled across his bed until I ended
up stretched out on top of him. I felt his desire, swollen and
hard, between us. Bit by bit I kissed my way down, tracking my lips
to where his happy trail led me—to the waist of his jeans. I
dragged the tip of my tongue across his stomach. His muscles flexed
and his arms pulled urgently against my upper back as he let out a
deep, low, animalistic groan. I slipped my fingers around the top
button of his Levi’s and released it, then tugged on his boxers and
pressed my lips to his exposed skin. It drove him crazy. His breath
hitched and my shoulders went cold as he grabbed me under my arms
and pulled me up. Forcefully, he thrust his hands down to the front
of my jeans and yanked at the snap. His hands sped to pull them off
my body while he worked and wiggled out of his own jeans. I watched
his body create a magic I wanted to touch. His muscles moved and
flexed, exemplifying how sexy he was. He even glistened with a
slight shine. We were both down to our underwear when Max pulled
the covers down and worked his way under them.

“
Come on, get in here with
me,” he growled holding the covers up so I could slip next to him.
And I did.

I smiled—scared, nervous, and even a
bit unsure. I didn’t know what to expect. He pulled me in and
cradled my backside against his radiant body. Under the covers,
through our underwear, I felt how much he wanted me. His lips
tasted the skin across my back and shoulder while his fingers
slinked up the inside of my thigh, slowly drifting across the front
of my panties before maneuvering underneath the waist
band.

My heart slammed against my rib cage
and the butterflies sped spastically around my stomach, cheering
for the moment they couldn’t wait to have. I held my breath and
spread my legs a bit, inviting him to tickle his fingers further
down to feel my dampness. I waited impatiently as every muscle
below my waist contracted and released in anticipation of his
touch. Instead he pulled my panties off my body
altogether.

“
Oh, Max,” I
moaned.

“
Mmmm,” he
hummed.

I took a breath—I was just about to
tell him to make love to me when I heard the front door slam and
his mother’s voice escalate to a window-shattering scream. Her
voice permeated every wall, window, and door. Her frantic tone
saturated my body down to the marrow as she screamed for Max over
and over again until his name began to mingle with her cries for
help.

Max flung the covers off and jumped
out of the bed. Struggling to pull his pants on, he bumbled and
yelled back to her.

“
Mom? I’m on my way.” He
looked back at me, adding, “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” He
scooped up his shirt from the floor and sped to the door. Barefoot
and half naked, he slammed the door. I could hear Nancy’s voice
echoing up the stairs, screaming Frank’s name. Then Max yelled to
his sister to call 911.

My heart pounded in my chest. I
hurried to get dressed. I wanted to go and find out what was
happening. I ran downstairs. The front door was wide open and I
could see Nancy hovering over Frank on the wet, black driveway. Max
pushed his hands against Frank’s chest, yelling at his dad not to
die. I stood in the doorway frozen, seeing the threshold of Frank’s
life teetering on the shoulders of Max. Flashes of my grandfather
on his driveway as he lay dying flooded my mind.

“
Max, you gotta save him!”
Camille’s scream struck my heart and all my disconnected thoughts
vanished.

Camille bounced off walls with her
hands before she plowed through me full force to get to her father.
I felt my feet leave the floor and my body lurch onto the porch. I
landed on the hard slate ground with pain burning through my knees
and fire thrashing against the palms of my hands. I got back up and
stood watching Max’s family crumble, dissolving like the steam from
my breath in the brisk winter air. Max looked at me before giving
his father another CPR breath.

“
Wilson—get back upstairs,
now,” Max yelled. I didn’t want to leave but it was his family, his
moment to live through. So I did what he told me and turned away
from the family I wanted more than anything else in the
world.

How was I supposed to
react?
Max told me to wait for him up in
his room, but how could I? The bright lights of the ambulance
stroked the enormous picture windows, coloring the faces of his
family in crimson. Sinister skeletons of trees I once admired
flashed red outlines against the murky sky while Max’s father lay
strapped to the gurney. One EMT rhythmically pounded Frank’s chest,
while the other medic squeezed a huge bulb, forcing air down his
trachea. I watched carefully from the front window in Max’s
bedroom—shut in and helpless.

The brawny EMT wheeled Frank into the
back of the ambulance while the slender one continued CPR. I
watched as Max lifted Nancy into the ambulance like a ballerina
from Swan Lake; if only it were true. She blew him a kiss before
she was swallowed by the doors. Her bowed head was framed in one of
the back windows. She was the broken image of
desperation.