3:AM Kisses

by Addison Moore

  “It’s a big step for me, too.” Not that I’ll be volunteering to haul him to Texas anytime soon. I’m pretty sure Mom would string him up by the balls if he even looked at me in a sexual manner. “I mean we’ll be with his family, so it’ll practically be a platonic weekend.”

  “Platonic? I’m pretty sure that’s not in his lexicon. So—what are the sleeping arrangements, anyway?” Roxy narrows in on me as she cuts to the nocturnal chase.

  Sleeping arrangements? That sweet spot between my thighs spasms at the thought of sleeping under the same roof, let alone the same bed, as Bryson. I wonder if one can have too many orgasms, and how exactly I might explain this to the ER staff once I can’t stop convulsing with pleasure.

  “Like I said, his mom will be there, so we’ll probably sleep in separate rooms. I’ll probably crash on the couch. God knows I’m used to it.” God what if she’s one of those liberal moms who totally roots for her kids to hook up under her roof? What if she’s out right now buying candles and specialty condoms that light up just to make the occasion oh so special? I shake the thought out of my head. My mother would be stocking up on pepper spray and stun guns—a rape whistle and a club.

  “When there’s a hard-on, there’s a way.” Laney nods into her hormonal theory. “He wants you.” She takes a sip of her drink. “Bad.”

  “So have you done it yet?” Roxy crinkles her nose as she awaits my salacious response.

  “No, we haven’t done it, so I’m pretty sure our first time won’t be with his mom in the next room listening to the headboard rattle. That’s one of the reasons I’m dying to get away from Cole’s apartment. I’m so sick of listening to him wallop his trollops night after night. You’d think the neighbors would have called the swat team by now the way it sounds like machine gun fire is exploding from his bedroom. It’s like a hostage situation in there or a really loud marathon of Scar Face going on, but the only one getting scarred around there is me—emotionally.”

  Laney spits her coffee just past my shoulder.

  “Sorry!” She gags out a laugh. “It’s just that the visual was too amusing.” She sops up the mess she made. “I’ve been to the Edwards house—more like estate.” She lowers her lashes at me. “It’s pretty big. There are an awful lot of places and spaces someone could run off to if they wanted. Are you scared?”

  “Why would she be scared?” Roxy sticks her pen between her teeth a moment. “Oh my, God—you’re a virgin!”

  “Shh!” I bounce a few inches in my seat. “No need to pull out the mega phone. It’s not a big deal. I was just waiting for the right person, that’s all.” I give a shy smile. “And, lucky me, because I found him.”

  “Aww!” They sing in unison.

  “Baya!” A male voice booms across the courtyard, and Bryson waves with that ridiculously gorgeous smile. My girl parts and I sigh in unison.

  “That’s my ride.” I pull my bag up over my shoulder. “Any quick tips?” My heart races at the prospect of what might happen this weekend—hell, right now in his truck if he wanted.

  Roxy shakes her head. “Just be yourself and have fun. I promise, it’ll come naturally.” She winks. “And, if you’re lucky, so will you.”

  If I’m lucky. My girl parts clench in a mini rebellion. I’m always lucky with Bryson Edwards around.

  Laney leans in, she cuts her gaze over at Bryson, and a sorrowful look crosses her face. “That boy needs some TLC. Just love him sweetly.”

  Love him sweetly. That’s exactly what I plan on doing.

  Bryson and I drive down the city streets of Hollow Brook as the leaves rain over the sidewalks like buckets full of rustic-colored confetti. An entire army of gardeners attack the rolling green lawn in front of the public library. I watch as their weed whackers get close to the border garden filled with marigolds—their proud orange poms shiver in fear of decapitation.

  Bryson swings into a parking lot and only after the fact do I read the sign on the side of the building in front of us, Quincy Howard School for the Deaf and Hard of Hearing.

  “I wondered how far we’d get before you pulled over to steal a kiss.” I unbuckle my seatbelt and slide into him.

  A naughty smile twitches on his lips. “Come here.” Bryson pulls me in, and our mouths find one another, desperately hungry for more than we could ever hope to accomplish sitting in the front seat of his supped-up monster truck. Bryson plunges his tongue in my mouth and teases me with laboriously slow, agonizingly sweet kisses. A moan vibrates from his throat to the most intimate part of me, and it quivers with an erotic approval. “Baya,” he pulls back and takes me in. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he whispers in awe as if seeing me for the very first time.

  “You’re amazing.” I take in his features and memorize them. His brows pitch, annunciating the barely-there scar just under his left eye. “What happened?” I touch it carefully as if the wound had never healed.

  “Fell off a horse and hit a pipe sticking up from the ground. I’m pretty lucky I didn’t lose an eye that day.”

  “That’s scary.” I run my fingers through his thick hair. “I’m glad you didn’t hurt your beautiful eyes.” I press in another kiss, and my lips linger soft as clouds over him. “You make every moment special whether we’re together or not. But I much prefer when we’re together.” Our lips meet again, and this time it’s fueled with lust that only the prospect of sharing something so incredible might bring. My body aches to have him. It’s as if he’s pouring his lust for me straight down my throat, and I’m drinking it to the dregs like the most maddening wine. I’m drunk off Bryson Edwards, addicted in the very best way.

  “We’ll be together all weekend.” He pulls back. The trace of a smile never leaves his lips.

  A harsh knock explodes over the passenger’s side window, and I jump back to find a sandy-haired blonde waving at us. She’s pretty with familiar, clear blue eyes.

  “God, you attract them everywhere you go. Who’s that?” My stomach sinks at the sight of her. She’s so beautiful I’m almost afraid to ask.

  “That”—he unlocks the truck, and she opens the back door—“is my sister, Annie.” His fingers start contorting in a strange formation, and it takes a second for me to register he’s signing to her.

  Annie waves at me, and her smile widens. She signs something over to Bryson before latching the seatbelt over her waist.

  “She says she’s happy to meet you. She also said you’re far too pretty for me.” He frowns over at her. “And I happen to agree.” He starts up the truck, and we’re on our way again.

  “It’s nice to meet you, too,” I say as we head back out onto the highway.

  “Annie was born completely deaf,” he says, glancing back at her in the rearview mirror. “She’s pretty good at reading lips most of the time, unless, of course, you sign. Then she understands you perfectly.”

  “God,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.” I sink in my seat a little. “I had no idea. She’s so beautiful.”

  “She’s a trooper. Annie doesn’t consider it a curse. To her it’s a blessing. She likes the kids she goes to school with. Annie’s an encourager. She likes to build people up when they get down.”

  “What grade is she in?” I feel horrible talking about her when she’s less than two feet from us.

  “Senior.” She’s filling out her app for Whitney Briggs in the fall. They have accommodations that can help her out with classes, so I feel pretty good about it.” He gives a thumbs up to the backseat, and Annie reciprocates.

  My heart melts watching Bryson interact with his sister. Somehow meeting Annie only makes my heart expand for him even more. And here I thought it was full. Bryson keeps surprising me in ways I could never imagine. I love everything about him, and, now, I can’t wait to show him in the most intimate way.

  We drive about a half hour until the cityscape is traded for expansive properties with long bridle fences that stretch acre after acre. Horses dot the countryside, Arabians, palominos, paints. I’ve seen my
fair share of horses after moving to Texas. I miss seeing their regal beauty, and it hasn’t been two months.

  The houses expand around us in both girth and width, each with an entire row of three and four car garages tucked beneath them. We drift into a ritzy neighborhood lined with luxury SUVs and newly minted sports cars, and I can’t help but marvel. After my dad passed away, there never seemed to be enough of anything, friends and family included.

  Bryson pulls up to a large wrought iron fence and punches in a code at the entry before the gates part like wings, and we drive on through. A small winding road takes us past a series of juniper trees before revealing an enormous stone structure far too big to ever be the home of just one family.

  My mouth opens as if to ask the question.

  “This is Mom’s house,” Bryson says as he parks close to the stairs that lead up to a grand entrance. “My dad paid most of it off as a parting gift.”

  “It’s amazing,” I whisper, taking in the Spanish style abode. The arched windows, the rounded curves of the towers that stretch on either side of it, give it a fairytale appeal.

  We get out, and Bryson comes over and picks up my bag in one hand, my hand in the other, and my adrenaline soars. He’s never held my hand on campus, and for sure not at the apartment, but here we were free to do anything we want.

  Annie skips up the stairs ahead of us and bursts through the front door.

  The house looks like it belongs in another country, another time, another world. Bryson hoists our bags over his shoulder and leads me up the steps.

  “I can’t wait for you to meet my mom. She’s going to love you.”

  “She is?” Suddenly the idea of meeting his mother has me shaking in my impractically high heels. I’ve never met a boy’s mother before, especially not when I’m spending the night, and her son is setting an inferno off in the most intimate part of me just from the simple act of holding my hand. I try to call off my rabid vagina, but it’s too late. She’s bucking and reeling from being so close to Bryson—to his bedroom. “Does she know I’m coming?” Unfortunately that can be taken both literally and figuratively.

  “Nope.” He gives my hand a squeeze. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

  Crap. Not all surprises are good, but secretly I’m hoping I’m a good one.

  “You’ll do fine.” He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses it. “Besides, I’m dying to show you off.”

  Just hearing that sets the butterflies off in my stomach.

  Bryson leads us in through the glass double doors where Annie and a tall woman with a bob haircut and large black-rimmed glasses greets us. A black lab, just like my own, runs circles around me, and I bend over and scratch behind his ears while he licks me silly.

  “Easy Nitro.” Bryson gives him a pat on the head, and the panting pooch retreats.

  His mother steps in. “Well who is this beautiful young lady?” Her eyes expand, clear as a summer sky, just like Bryson’s.

  “Mom, this is Baya. Baya—this is my mom, Miranda.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.” I reach over and shake her hand briefly.

  An awkward moment of silence thumps by, and both she and Annie take their time to inspect me from head to toe. Nitro lets out a little bark and breaks the ice.

  “Would you look at how gorgeous you are?” His mother crimps her lips. “I bet you’re illegal in twelve different states.”

  My entire body flushes with heat as I cut a look to Bryson. I hardly believe my face is criminal, but I appreciate her effort.

  “It’s actually all fifty.” Bryson reels me in by the waist. “So I might need to help her hide out for a while.” He pulls me in closer until I relax over his body. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to give her the tour and get us settled in.”

  Annie signs over to him, and he nods.

  Bryson leans into me. “She’s got a friend spending the night and asked if we wanted to watch a movie with them later.”

  I nod into him. “I love you,” it speeds out of me. Crap. “I mean, I’d love to.”

  But it’s too late. The giggle fest has begun as everyone around me chortles at my verbal mishap, laden with hearts and arrows, and, well, the truth.

  “I’m glad.” His mother smiles. “But no movie before dinner,” she chides to her daughter. “Meet me in the dining room in half an hour.” She looks to us all. “I’ve got a roasted duck and a gumbo I’ve been working on all day.”

  Annie makes a face.

  “Don’t worry,” Bryson whispers into me. “I’ve got plans for dessert.” He gives my ribs a tweak. “Baya and I will whip up some cookies.”

  “Nice,” it purrs out of me. For a moment I thought he was propositioning me in front of his family.

  “Race you up the steps,” he says, taking off for the sweeping staircase.

  I bolt around him and barely crest the top a second before he does, with Nitro hot on my heels.

  “I win,” I pant.

  “It’s a tie.” He presses a kiss over my lips. “Plus, I had forty pounds of luggage.” He bumps the bags over his shoulders as Nitro hightails it back downstairs. “What do you have in here anyway? The bricks of technology?”

  “Actually”—I step into his chest as he pants into me—“I left my laptop behind this weekend. I didn’t think I’d get much studying done with you around.” I glance down at the floral carpet that bleeds into the hall. “I thought maybe we could do other things.” I wanted to add, now that my brother isn’t haunting us with his vagina protection shield, but I’d rather leave all mention of Cole and missile-defense systems outside these walls for the weekend.

  Bryson pulls me in. His hands warm my waist before riding low over my bottom, and my body whimpers into him.

  “I was sort of hoping we’d do other things, too.” He gives a smile that borders on wicked. “I hope this weekend is everything you want it to be.”

  Dear God. “It already is.”

  Bryson offers a kiss that lingers this time. His supple lips smooth over mine and rain that special fire only he can produce right down into my soul.

  A pair of footsteps come up on us quick, and we part ways quickly only to find Annie clicking her tongue at us before rushing back downstairs.

  “Annie’s room.” He nods to the door at the end of the hall. “Holt’s,” he touches a door as we head in the opposite direction. “Your room.” He opens the door quiet as a whisper then nods at the room next door. “That’s mine.”

  “Oh”—a flood of relief fills me that he’s practically within reach—“thank you.” My face heats up for no good reason. “So”—I lean into the doorframe—“is this where you stash all the girls you bring home for the weekend?” I don’t know why I went there. I guess, deep down, a part of me wants to know just how many girls his mother might find illegal.

  “I guess so.” Bryson takes in a breath as he settles my bag on the floor. His eyes float back to mine, serious, tender with their gaze. “I’ve never brought a girl home before, so, in a way, I’m setting a precedent with you.”

  My heart thumps its way into my throat. My ears pulsate with a rhythm all their own.

  Bryson Edwards has never brought a girl home before, and now that girl is me.

  “I don’t know what to say,” I whisper as he comes in close, his breath feathering over my cheek.

  “Say this.” Bryson covers my mouth with his, and we indulge in a heated exchange right there in the doorway that just so happens to be unblemished with tally marks, real or imagined. His tongue roams over mine, his teeth bite over my lip playfully. I don’t stand a chance this weekend. I’m already his in every single way.

  Bryson tracks his hands up my thigh and stops shy of my bottom. I reach down and pull him up a few inches until he’s cupping my curves in his hands, and a slight laugh gurgles from his throat to mine.

  “This is just the beginning.” I whisper right into his mouth.

  Bryson strings a trail of kisses up my neck and gives a gentle bite over
my ear.

  “A beautiful beginning,” he whispers, and every cell in me sings the body electric.

  This weekend is starting to feel like the beginning of the rest of my life.

  And with Bryson by my side, it will be more than beautiful.

  Bryson

  I give Baya a tour of the house, the most important room being my bedroom. She walks slowly around the periphery looking at the trophies on my bookshelf, the lack of actual books, which I’m sure she finds unimpressive. She runs her hand over the felt pendant that reads Whitney Briggs, and I don’t bother telling her that my mom put that up while I was away my first semester. Baya pauses at something over my desk and lingers.

  “Who’s this girl?” It comes out so innocent, it doesn’t even faze me at first.

  I bounce off the bed in a single bound and make my way over.

  Fuck.

  I flip the picture down and take a step back as if I just put out a grass fire. I don’t know what I was thinking. I knew that picture was here, and it’s like it didn’t even register. I should get rid of it. God knows it’s burned itself into my mind. It’s the one of me and Steph locked in an embrace, floating on the lake in a canoe like we had the rest of our lives ahead of us to do just that. It’s when things were still good. I guess everything is good when you’re both still alive.

  “Whoa.” Baya holds up her hands as if she were about to get arrested. “So that’s the hot spot.” She bites down over her lip. “You want to talk about it?” Her forehead wrinkles, and, for a second, I think she might cry—that we both might.

  “I’m sorry.” I pull her in by the waist and touch her forehead to mine. “I’m not ready to go there.” I’m not sure I ever will be. “One day.” One day seems like a good answer. It hurts too much to think about. And, now, I have Baya—her whole heart, and it feels unfair to everyone involved. It was easier when it was girls by the dozen falling into my bed. I could put my heart in a bottle and toss it into the ocean, forget about it forever if I wanted. But Baya plucked the bottle right out of the sea. She’s holding it there in her sweet hand, tenderly, carefully. And now we’re both staring down at my barely-beating heart wondering what the hell’s the matter with it.