by Anne Malcom
Pretty mild for my mom.
Cody made all the promises, and he kept them all.
He took me for a picnic on the beach for our first date. Yeah, he organized a picnic on the beach. The eighteen-year-old, mini badass organized something so romantic I cried inside.
He kissed me at sunset.
It wasn’t my first kiss, but it felt like it was. Everything with Cody felt like a first.
I think I fell in love with him during that kiss. Or maybe it was when he complimented my boots in the hallway. Or when he handled my mother so well. Or when he brushed my hair from my face and whispered to me how beautiful I was.
Yeah, it was probably all of those.
And he was acting like he felt the same way. Like this was something natural, like he’d been feeling this way for as long as I had, but Willow warned me not to be fooled.
“If there’s one thing men are good at, it’s pretending they feel the same way about you until they get into your pants. That shit should be an Olympic sport for them.”
She was too young to be such a cynic about men and love in general, but then again, she had divorced parents and a rotating door of stepfathers, the latest of whom had tried to sneak into her room while she was sleeping. Willow had woken up and, of course, punched him in the face. Her mother had immediately kicked him out. She might’ve had bad taste in men, but she loved her daughter.
I, on the other hand, had two parents who at least pretended to love each other and a stable home life where I didn’t have to wake up with my right fist ready in case some creep is trying to touch me in my sleep.
I read romance novels and had a quiet, caring father, a brash, casserole making mother, and no real traumas in my life. So I found it hard to believe that Cody was just putting this on in order to get into my pants. If he wanted to get into a girl’s pants, there would be a line around the block of girls volunteering for that.
Nonetheless, I heeded Willow’s words. Or tried to. It was hard to be a cynic when the guy I’d crushed on my entire high school life was carrying my books for me, holding my hand and making out with me in my bedroom with the music turned all the way up.
He’d had plenty of dinners at my place, having won my mother over, plus she knew that his own mother was working nights and was absolutely aghast at the idea of a teenage boy having to fend for himself.
She’d never admit it, of course, but she was really starting to like my first boyfriend.
I’d officially met his mom as his girlfriend. She was soft spoken with a slight rasp to her voice, had Cody’s eyes and loved her son. They didn’t have a lot of money. Not something I had ever had to think about, but it was apparent in their small, one story, two-bedroom home on the outskirts of town. She’d put a lot of effort and love into it, though. Flowers in the front yard, a greenhouse full of vegetables and herbs in the backyard, bright, vintage sofas with cozy looking throws. It was definitely a feminine home.
With the exception of Cody’s room, of course. A room I’d spent a lot of time in. Since his mother worked nights, that meant we had an entire house to ourselves. There were many nights I lied and said I was studying at Willow’s, because no matter how much she liked Cody, no way was my mom going to approve of me being there without an adult present.
But I was.
We’d been boyfriend and girlfriend for four months.
It felt like forever and a brief moment at the same time.
Up until now, there had been heavy make out sessions. Over and under the bra action. His hand resting comfortably and possessively on my butt at parties we attended as a couple. He never left my side at those, and if he did, his eyes were always on me.
But tonight was different.
Not because he was pressuring me. He was so respectful it was almost getting annoying.
I was under no illusion that he was a virgin. He must have wanted more, second base at least. In fact, the hardness I’d felt against my leg during a few of our heavy make out sessions was evidence of that. And the tight way he held himself when he decided he had to stop... Yes, he wanted more, but he didn’t pressure me.
The problem was, I wanted more. I was terrified and worried I’d do it wrong, wouldn’t know how to be sexy and embarrass myself.
But it was getting out of control. That need. For him. For more than just making out and heavy petting.
Willow had already informed me that the guy usually lasted a minute. Tops. But I didn’t care about that. However it would be, I wanted it with Cody. Wanted everything.
“Don’t stop,” I whispered when things had started to get hotter than normal. My shirt was on the floor, and I was wearing a plain, pink cotton bra. Not sexy. Cody was also shirtless. He had a lean, muscled body that was most definitely sexy.
Cody had tried to pull that muscled, sexy torso away from me when the telltale hardness between his legs brushed against the thin fabric of my shorts. The mere friction of it caused me to gasp in pleasure. Cody, always attuned to my body and sounds, obviously mistook this for pain or fear, so he tried to stop.
I was quicker, for once. Need was hot in my blood, making me grip the back of his neck with both of my hands so he couldn’t move, his body still pressed against mine.
“Lizzie,” he gritted out.
“I want this,” I begged. “I want you. Please.”
His eyes searched mine then lowered down to my bra that suddenly felt like the sexiest thing in the world. He let out a harsh hiss of air.
Then the pressure against my hands released as he moved to press his lips against mine.
I kissed him back hungrily, desperately.
He stopped it as if he was trying to torture me. “I’m gonna give you something,” he murmured against my lips. “I’m gonna make today all about you. Because you may think you’re ready now, but I don’t want you to have any regrets. I don’t want it to be in my bedroom on a night my mom is gone. I want it to be... more special for you.” He brushed the back of his hand against my cheek. “But I’m going to be your first, Lizzie. I want to be your last, but I’m not stupid enough to think you’ll be with me forever, no matter how much I want that.” His hand moved quickly, unlatching my bra and pulling it free. No matter how naïve some might say it was to think it, I knew he was my forever.
“But I’m gonna make the most of every moment I have with you,” he continued, lips firm and hard against mine once more.
Then he moved.
Downward.
First to my exposed breasts.
Then to my bellybutton.
His tongue teased me with what was going to happen, moving across my stomach.
Then much lower.
Suffice it to say, the need I was feeling was sated. Twice.
Chapter 2
Five Months Later
“Well,” I said, closing the door to Cody’s room. “You’re officially no longer shackled to the institution known as high school.”
There was a low thump coming from the living room, we’d left the music on. Everyone had left the graduation party that Cody’s mom, Olive, had given permission for him to throw as long as they stuck to beer and everyone was out by midnight.
My mother would never leave me alone in a house to have a party; she’d never trust a bunch of teenagers to abide by such rules. But Cody adored and respected Olive, so it was five after midnight and we were the only ones here.
My mother was out of town, and I’d told my father I was sleeping over at Willow’s. He was far too smart and observant to believe me, but he also trusted me.
So he’d told me to, “be careful” and kissed me on the head.
This wasn’t the first night I’d be sleeping curled up with my boyfriend. We didn’t get many of these since there were only so many sleepovers my mother would believe I was having, and Olive rotated night shifts. Although she never said anything when I was sitting at her breakfast table when she came home from work. She’d just smile, kiss me on the cheek and sit with me and Cody while we a
te.
She was the mother I wished I had. I knew it was a nasty and a cruel thing for me to think considering my mother didn’t beat me or verbally abuse me and bought me whatever clothes I’d decided fit my vision at the time. I was into more rock chick, Bridget Bardot these days, growing my hair longer, wearing winged eyeliner, tight black jeans and band tees. My mother hated it, but she still bought me the clothes.
She was a good mother.
But she didn’t kiss my cheek in the morning. Didn’t sit at the table with me and just talk about life. Her version of talking was gossiping, pressuring me about college, grades, the future. Lecturing my dad about whatever he’d done wrong that week.
Olive asked me what my dreams were. What was my favorite book? Movie. Who inspired me? What countries I wanted to visit.
She’d taken me in as the daughter she’d never had, and it made me feel warm and accepted.
My mother didn’t have that in her.
Which was fine, because I had Olive. I had her for as long as I had Cody in my life, and I planned on having him in my life forever. I knew it was a stupid, naïve thought to have about my very first boyfriend—my very first everything—especially when he had just graduated high school and I had another year.
But it didn’t matter.
We were different.
Cody was different.
He loved me.
Beyond that, he didn’t have big dreams of leaving Amber, going to fancy colleges. He’d told me what he wanted to the night I gave him my virginity.
Prom night…
“It’s cliché, but I wanted to give you that.”
We had rented a hotel room the next town over. Mom thought we were all staying together for a girl’s sleepover, and each of us had carefully coordinated this ‘sleepover’ since out of the three of us involved, we all had boyfriends who booked hotel rooms.
I was afraid.
Tipsy, because I’d wanted to loosen up and not act like some virgin. I was only a virgin in the most technical of terms. Cody and I had done everything but. And sure, I might’ve been nervous or awkward at first, but my need, my desire had always clouded such feelings. Everything thus far had been awesome. Had made me feel different. Like a woman. More loved. Worshipped. Confident.
So sex was going to be good. After the first painful part.
And it was painful. Despite the nice hotel room that Cody had put overtime in to pay for. The candles, the lingerie that I’d bought on a shopping trip with Willow and had hidden in the back of my closet.
He’d been gentle, reverent and loving, but it didn’t make a difference. It hurt like a bitch. Unlike every heroine in the romance books I read, I didn’t enjoy it. I gritted my teeth through it and counted it as a victory that I didn’t cry.
Cody felt bad.
Terrible. Tortured even. It was written all over his face, hatred for himself because he’d caused me pain. He’d taken me to the shower and cleaned me meticulously, with such tenderness that I fell even more in love with him in that moment.
He’d then taken me to bed, taking his time to cover every inch of my body with his mouth, then moved to the important and tender parts, coaxing me back to the edge.
Suffice it to say, the second time was much better.
And the third.
We spent every moment we could naked after that. Willow joked about Cody turning me into a nympho, but it was really just that we were obsessed with each other. To an unhealthy extent, some would say. Some being my mother.
Despite her reservations about the time I spent with him, mom was still enamored by Cody. In fact, she thought it was my fault for becoming a lovestruck girl, letting my grades and therefore losing college prospects because of a guy of all things.
She wasn’t wrong. I was lovestruck by Cody. I was obsessed with him. With what our lives would be.
Which was what we talked about that night, the first night. And again after the second time, when I felt sated, satisfied and sore. Above all, happy.
I’d let him know that sure, I’d like to go to college maybe major in English lit with a business minor just so my mom would be happy. Find a job doing something I loved after graduating. Something to do with books maybe. That wasn’t really the goal, though. My real goal, the one I didn’t say out loud, was to marry Cody, have lots of babies and live an extraordinary but peaceful life.
Cody had listened intently, as he did with anything I had to say. He’d even watched Factory Girl with me despite the fact it was a chick flick and that I’d already seen it about five times. He sat at vintage stores with me while I found faded Levi’s to cut into jean shorts. That he probably didn’t mind so much since he loved those shorts and enjoyed watching me change.
“I want to patch into the Sons of Templar MC,” he said quietly, arms tight around me.
It shouldn’t have surprised me, considering he’d been working at the garage since he was sixteen and talked about each of the members with reverence.
I didn’t have any experience with the MC. Or I had about the same experience as the average citizen of Amber. They were a large presence, casting a shadow over the town, but they were also respected. Almost a landmark. They did charity rides, they volunteered around town. But they were also criminals, and everyone knew that.
I’d always thought they were kind of interesting, exciting even. The lifestyle fascinated me. Not enough to be brave the parties at the clubhouse Willow had begged me to sneak into with her that she got kicked out of—they were well known for not letting in underage girls.
“You’ve been quiet for a long time,” Cody said, unease in his voice. When I looked to him, his face looked different than it did at school, parties, even with his mom. He’d let his walls down. He was vulnerable with me and only me. It was a kind of treasure I’d never imagined getting.
“I was just thinking,” I shrugged.
“You wouldn’t stay with me if I patched in?” he asked, a slight tremor to his voice.
The insecurity in his voice had me moving. Pushed him flat on the bed and moved to straddle him, his cock pressed against my beautifully tender parts.
I moved so my hands clasped his neck, his gaze held in mine. “I will be with you no matter what, Cody. Nothing will change the way I feel about you.” I laid my lips gently on his. “And the fact that this news will mean you’re going to stay in Amber makes me even happier.”
He frowned. “But you’re going to go to college. You have to go to college.”
I rolled my eyes. “You sound like my mother.”
He didn’t smile. In fact, he moved us again, so I was now on my back and his naked body was pressed against mine. “I’m serious, Lizzie,” he continued. “You’re smart. All you know is this town, you deserve to see something more. You need to go to college. I’m not going to let you jeopardize your future for me.”
I didn’t like his tone. The way his eyes looked when he said this scared me. “You’re my future, Cody. Losing you is the only thing that could jeopardize my future. I’ve never wanted to leave Amber. You’re just giving me another reason to stay.”
The look stayed on his face, but he didn’t say anything.
“What does your mom say about your plan to patch in?” I asked, deciding to change the subject because it scared me in ways I didn’t want to admit.
As progressive and laid back as Olive was, I couldn’t see her wanting her only son to patch in to the town’s resident motorcycle gang. Especially if it put him in any kind of danger. Now and then there were funerals for members and they’d all died violently. The mere thought of something happening to Cody made my stomach clench and my heart climb up to my throat.
He winced ever so slightly. “Yeah, I told her,” he replied. “She took it about as well as I thought she would. At first, she thought I’d change my mind, that it was a phase. Then she got pissed. Now she’s just accepted it. I’ve let her down. But I just can’t... see anything else for me. I’m not worth anything else.”
&nbs
p; My blood turned cold. He really meant what he’d said. I’d caught things like this every now and then, a self-deprecating remark about himself peppered into our conversations. It had been enough to bother me, but he glossed over them so quickly that I’d never had a chance to address them.
“Cody,” I whispered. “You’re worth everything. You are the kindest person I know. You are the most special person I know. What makes you even think such things?”
He paled ever so slightly, his eyes darkening.
I got the feeling that he was going to tell me something. Something that explained those comments, that undercurrent of darkness that I sensed in him from time to time.
But then it went away. He put on a mask, and the Cody I recognized returned. “I don’t know, guess it’s shit from not havin’ my Old Man in my life. But I don’t wanna talk about that.” He pressed his lips against my neck. “Actually, I don’t want to talk at all. I want to make love to my Old Lady.”
Something moved inside me. Grew. Something good. “Old Lady?” I repeated.
“Yes,” he growled, his lips moving down my neck. “If I’m going to patch in to the Sons of Templar, then you’re gonna be my Old Lady. You okay with that
I didn’t hesitate.
“Yeah, I’m more than okay with that,” I murmured.
So our future was laid out in front of us. Just like a romance novel.
Too bad romance novels were fiction.
“So what happens now?” I asked after closing the door to Cody’s room on graduation night, starting to unbutton my shirt. The act of undressing in front of Cody was still novel to me. It was so intimate, so grown up, so precious. Mostly, we’d been ripping each other’s clothes off with desperate need. Though I liked that a lot, this was special too. I couldn’t wait until I could undress for him every night. He was going to save up to get a rental, move in before I graduated then I’d move in with him. My mother would have a cow, but I’d legally be an adult so she wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Plus, I’d be going to a college forty minutes’ drive away, commuting daily, so she couldn’t complain.