by Bella Jacobs
Kite steps closer, his arm brushing my shoulder. “So you think we’re scary?”
Tilting my head back, I search his face, but his eyes are cast in shadow. “No, I don’t think you’re scary. I’m sorry, that came out wrong. I think this situation is scary—terrifying, really—but not you.” I pause, unable to resist adding, “especially not you.”
He turns to me, his hand coming to cup my cheek. “So you think you can forgive me someday?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Though, I am confused. I keep wondering what was a lie and what was the truth, you know?”
“This is the truth,” he says, leaning down to press his lips to mine.
Instantly, sparks ignite behind my closed eyes and awareness ripples across my skin. My breath comes faster, and my arms go around his neck, and I barely notice the twinge in my chest as he hugs me close, lifting me off my feet, bringing me up to his level. He parts my lips with his tongue as I thread my fingers into his soft hair and hold on tight as our kiss goes from zero to sixty in seconds flat.
I don’t know if it’s the fact that we’ve survived so much together in the past few days, the improvement in my health since the last time his lips met mine, or just the magic of the moonlight and the star-filled sky, but our second kiss is so much more intense than our first.
Hotter, deeper, and urgent in a way I’ve never experienced before.
This is passion, this hunger that claws away inside me, demanding to be satisfied, demanding I wrap my legs around Kite’s hips and squeeze. So I do, gasping into his mouth as I feel him, hard behind the fly of his jeans.
“I want you so much.” He squeezes my hips, building the sweet ache spreading through my core. “From the moment I met you. It’s not about the mark or the mission for me. It’s all you, Bird Girl. You’re incredible.” His breath rushes out as I dig my nails into his neck. “And so damned sexy. I like you off your meds.”
“Me, too,” I murmur against his lips. “I almost don’t know what to do with all this extra energy.”
“I have a few ideas,” Kite says, one hand skimming up to cup my breast through my T-shirt, stoking the fire building inside of me as I kiss him again, long and deep, taking the lead for the first time in my life.
I’ve only kissed five guys—most of them while I was in remission in college—and none of them ever made me feel anything like this, like the fierce thrill that rips through me from head to toe as Kite lays me down in the sweet-smelling hay, bracing his arms on either side of my head.
“Can I kiss you?” His voice is soft and husky, warm and shiver inducing at the same time.
“I think it’s a little late to ask that question,” I tease.
“I don’t mean on your lips. Can I kiss you other places, beautiful Wren?”
I swallow, pulse fluttering in my throat. “Places like where?”
“Like here,” he says, his fingers skimming lightly over my nipple, making me suck in a sharp breath as electricity surges between my legs. “And here.” Now his hand slides between my thighs, gliding over places no one has ever touched but me, not even through my jeans the way he is now. It is…incredible. Terrifying. Magnificently overwhelming.
I exhale, shivering harder.
“Cold?” he asks.
I shake my head, holding his gaze in the moonlight, hoping he can see how much I want him to kiss me in those places, to strip me bare and show me how a woman my age is supposed to feel with a man.
But I’m still too shy to say the words aloud, a part of me trapped in the version of myself that always had to be so careful, so reserved, who was always so fearful of not having enough energy to handle love or relationships or much of anything else.
Kite’s thumb drags across my bottom lip, making my blood burn even hotter. “It’s okay to say no. I don’t want to push you. I’ll wait as long as you want to wait.”
“I don’t want to wait,” I whisper. “I just… I don’t know what to do. Everything is so new. The things I’m feeling, the fact that I have enough energy to feel them in the first place. But, I want you, too. So much.”
“Then let me take the lead,” he says, giving my hip a gentle squeeze. “I’ll make you feel good, and that’s where it ends tonight. No pressure, no stress, just relax and let me take care of you.”
“Sounds selfish,” I say, but I can’t stop the soft moan of pleasure that escapes my lips as his hand skims beneath my shirt and his fingers brush over my tightly puckered nipple, making disco lights spin behind my eyes.
“Not selfish. I get off on giving,” Kite says, guiding my T-shirt up and over my head, baring my breasts to the moonlight. He looks down, an almost pained expression flashing across his face as he says, “God, you’re beautiful. So perfect…”
He runs his fingers up my breastbone to hover over the slightly puckered flesh above my left breast that is all that remains of the gunshot wound. “It doesn’t hurt at all?” he asks, wonder in his voice.
“Not much, no,” I whisper. “But it’s starting to hurt in other places. To ache…”
His lips curve as his focus shifts back to my face. “Let me see if I can help you out with that, baby.”
And then he dips his head, his hair tumbling around us to slide, dark and silky, against my pale ribs as he presses a kiss to the underside of my breast and then another and another, building the tension swirling inside me until he finally gives me what I didn’t realize I was craving. His mouth closes around my nipple, and he sucks me into his mouth, making the stars spin and the ache between my legs become a sharp, sweet tug.
He continues to kiss and lick, to suck and then to bite—oh God, he bites me, and I would never have imagined I would want someone to bite me there, where I’m so sensitive, but it feels so incredibly good. So sexy, so hot that by the time he reaches for the button on my borrowed jeans, my shyness has vanished.
I’m not anxious about a man seeing that part of me for the first time, I’m too desperate for him to touch me, stroke me, do something to take the edge off this hunger that feels like it will devour me whole if I don’t find something else to feed it.
He slips his hand down the front of my panties, his fingers curling until he finds where I’m wet. We groan together as he glides a single finger inside me, but even that slight penetration is enough to drive me wild.
“Yes,” I gasp into his mouth as he kisses me again. “I want that so much. I want you so much.”
“You drive me crazy, beautiful,” he murmurs. “I’m dying to taste you. Can I taste you, Wren?”
“Yes.” I nod even though I’m not exactly sure what he means. But everything Kite has done to me so far—every kiss, every caress—has been so perfect, I’m sure whatever he wants to do next will be perfect, too.
I shiver, biting my lip as he strips my jeans and panties swiftly down my legs and tosses them aside. I experience a fleeting moment of shyness as he parts my thighs and settles his broad shoulders between them, but before I can worry too much he leans in, pressing a kiss to the place where I ache, and a rush of pleasure banishes my anxiety. I suck in a shocked breath as his tongue circles the top of my sex, building the pressure dragging at my core until I’m lifting shamelessly into his mouth, desperate for that release I’ve only ever found by my own hand.
But I can already tell this is going to be a hundred times more intense than any self-delivered orgasm. And that’s before his palms glide up my ribs to find my breasts, cupping and squeezing, teasing my nipples as his tongue continues to work its dark magic between my legs.
Soon I’m bucking into Kite’s tongue, panting and writhing beneath his hands, his mouth, as he takes me to a place I’ve never been before. And finally, when I’m certain I can’t bear another moment of anticipation, I tumble over. I swoop and soar, crying out in bliss as my body locks down around Kite’s hand. He glides two fingers inside me, driving them slowly in and out as I come, drawing out my pleasure until I’m trembling on the grass beneath him.
“Oh God,” I
whisper, too shattered to think of anything more eloquent to say. “Oh my God.”
He lifts himself onto his forearms, grinning at me from between my legs. “Good?”
“Mind-blowing,” I say, my next words tumbling from my lips before I realize what I intend to say. “I want to do that to you. I want you in my mouth.”
Kite’s breath rushes out as his eyes darken. “No, Wren. Like I said, tonight is about you. Your pleasure.”
“It will give me pleasure to know what you taste like, too,” I say, knowing I’m winning this fight when Kite’s jaw clenches and a soft groan escapes from low in his throat. “But you’ll have to show me what to do. I’ve never done that before.”
I’m reaching for him, determined to give him the same magical release he just gave me or die trying when a musical flute noise fills the air, coming from the general direction of…Kite’s butt.
“Sorry. I have to take it.” He curses as he sits back on his heels in the grass, breath still coming faster as he tugs his phone out of his pocket. “It’s home. Probably Mom responding to the text I sent about letting us hide out there for a while.”
He stands, pacing a few steps away as he begins conversing in a language I don’t understand. It’s beautiful, lilting and soft around the edges, with a few random guttural inflections here and there that Kite makes sound incredibly sexy. So sexy it’s hard to resist the urge to slip up behind him and kiss his neck while he talks.
Surely, I can’t be this desperate for more after he’s already given me the kind of mind-bending, soul-transporting release I thought was just the fictional fodder of sexy books and racy movies?
But as I stand, pulling on my clothes with trembling hands, every second that I have to wait to touch him again feels like an eternity. I find myself clenching my jaw as I exercise my willpower in a way I’ve never had to before. I mean, I crave sweets as much as the next sugar addict, but what Kite does to me makes walking by Gypsy Donuts without popping in for a red velvet special seem like child’s play.
I must be getting greedy in my old age, drunk on my newfound health and all the previously unimagined possibilities unfurling in front of me, a road as filled with excitement and adventure as danger and uncertainty.
You’re also becoming a heartless asshole. There’s a phone right there, Wren. You’ve got to call Mom and Pops and let them know that you’re not dead. No matter what anyone else thinks, no matter how confusing all of this is, you know they love you and must be desperately worried.
The inner voice is right. So when Kite hangs up, instead of rushing back into his arms and picking up where we left off, I thread my fingers together and ask softly, “I know this is probably off-limits, but I was wondering if I could call my parents? Just to let them know I’m okay.”
Kite shakes his head, but I hurry on, not ready to give up yet. If any of these men are going to help me break this rule, it’s Kite. Family is as important to him as it is to me. So is kindness, and it isn’t kind to let the people who love me most worry when I could put their minds at ease. “There’s a cloaking device on the phone, right?” I press. “So if the police are with them, they won’t be able to track the call.”
Kite nods, but he’s still clearly not a fan of this idea.
“I won’t tell them where we are or what’s happening or anything else,” I promise. “I’ll just tell them that I’m alive and fine and that they shouldn’t worry. Would that be okay?”
“I know you love them, Wren.” Kite brushes a stray hair from my face, holding it there as a breeze rushes across the field, doing its best to undo his work. “But your parents are in deep with some incredibly dangerous people. Even if they are simply ignorant or misguided, the people who arranged for them to adopt you aren’t. They knew exactly what they were doing when they tracked you down and took you away from your parents. They are highly organized, driven, and fueled by a kind of hate we can’t even understand. There is no doubt in my mind they’ve got people on your parents, tailing them everywhere they go on the chance that you make contact.” He shakes his head as his hand drops from my face. “I’m sorry, but I can’t risk it.”
“Then what about Carrie Ann?” I ask, inspiration striking. “What if I called her and gave her a message for my parents?”
He exhales through his teeth, casting a glance over his shoulder.
“We don’t have to tell the others,” I whisper. “I’ll call really fast, and then we can delete it from the call history.”
“Dust will have my ass if he finds out,” Kite mutters, but he finally holds the phone out my way. “Text her, don’t call. You’re less likely to say things you shouldn’t if you have to type them out first.”
“Thank you so much, Kite.” I press up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek as I take the phone. “I promise I won’t tell her anything I shouldn’t.”
“Just be quick, Bird Girl.” He kisses my forehead before stepping back and pointing a finger at my chest. “And as soon as you’re done, we block her number so she can’t call or text back later when we’re surrounded by people who will have my ass for breaking protocol.”
I nod quickly. “I promise.”
“Call me if you need me,” he says, walking toward the tree line at the opposite end of the field, giving me privacy. I glance up at the limbs rocking gently above him in the breeze, a flash in the shadows beneath the canopy making me hesitate.
I catch what looks like a pair of eyes, glinting in the darkness, but they vanish so quickly I’m not sure I saw them at all. I hesitate, wondering if I should call out to Kite to warn him we might be being watched—knowing our enemies could come for us in animal form has brought an entire new dimension into this flight—but then I remember the way Kite always seemed to know when danger was coming. If there was something malevolent watching us from the woods, he would sense it. And he certainly doesn’t look worried.
I watch him go, his stride light and easy despite his large size, and things low in my body start humming all over again.
All I want to do is hide away in a cave with my sweet, sexy bear for a week or two—until we’ve discovered all the ways we can give each other pleasure, all the ways our bodies fit together—but for now I settle on admiring his broad shoulders and the moonlight reflecting off his dark hair before I tap Carrie’s number into the phone and cast a line back into my old life.
The one that already seems so very far away…
Chapter 20
Text log: Wren Frame and Carrie Ann Cutler
Wren: Carrie Ann, it’s me. Wren. I’m on a borrowed phone and I’m okay.
I’m safe for now, and I’m going to call you and my parents as soon as I can.
Carrie Ann: Oh my God! Wren! I’ve been so worried. We’re all freaking out! We thought you were dead. It’s been so insanely scary around here. There have been cops all over the shelter, looking for clues and bagging up everything in your office. What happened, babe?
They said you were kidnapped!
Wren: I was, but it’s okay. They’re actually good people.
Just misguided in their methods.
Carrie Ann: You’ve lost me, honey. Are they with you right now? Are they making you say this shit? Because taking a chronically ill person away from her family and her friends and her meds isn’t fucking okay.
How are you feeling by the way?
Are you holding up all right?
I’ve been lying awake every night imagining the worst, so scared that you were out there dying, and plotting how I was going to kill these monsters who took you away from us. Just tell me where you are, babe, and I will be there with all the fucking cops in a heartbeat.
Wren: I can’t tell you that, and please don’t tell the police about this or try to have this number traced. There’s a cloaking system on the phone, and I’m going to have to block you in a few minutes, anyway. But I promise that I’m in my right mind and no one is making me say or do anything.
And I’m actually feeling so good.
; Better than I have in my entire life.
Carrie Ann: Wow. Seriously? How is that even possible?
Your mom said all of your meds were still there at the house.
Wren: Turns out I don’t need those meds.
I’m not sick, Carrie, and I probably never have been.
Carrie Ann: Holy. Shit.
What does that mean, Wren?
How could the doctors have had it so wrong all this time?
God, your parents are going to be so happy! And so relieved.
Wren: I think so, too. I’d love for you to tell them that for me—that I’m feeling good and getting better every day, and as soon as it’s safe to make a call, I’ll be contacting them. And tell them I love them and I believe in them and that they will always be a part of my heart, okay?
Carrie Ann: I will tell them exactly that, honey, but can you tell ME what the actual hell is happening? Reading between the lines here, my mind starts going to some pretty dark places.
Like…Munchausen by Proxy places.
You know those people who poison their own children to get attention when the kids get sick? You honestly don’t think your parents…
Wren: I don’t know, Carrie. I hope not, I hope for that with everything in me, but there are so many crazy things happening right now that I’m not sure what to think anymore. All I know for sure is that I believe they love me and I don’t want them to be scared.
Carrie Ann: Got it.
Dude…this is so messed up.
Are you sure you can’t tell me where you are, babe?
I promise not to tell the cops if you don’t want me to, but I would feel so much better knowing where you are on this big blue planet I can’t imagine continuing to spin without you. You know you’re like the sister I never had, right? That I love you like family? Better than family, since mine was utter shit?