by B. Avery
The touch of her hand had nearly seared his skin through his jacket. He'd lost track of whatever he'd been saying, his focus narrowing to her soft lips. He knew how they felt now, how sweet they were, and he just wanted one taste to get him through the rest of the day. He just needed a taste, but he knew damned well he'd never be satisfied with one kiss. One kiss would lead to more, and their pact would be forgotten.
Carmine gazed up at him wordlessly, then her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and suddenly their agreement didn't seem so important. He'd been leaning down to take her mouth when the bell jangled, leaving them to jerk apart. He hadn't been able to catch his breath, feeling like all the oxygen in the shop had been stolen away, and he'd been even more surly than usual.
She'd been very careful not to touch him after that. Until she stopped, he hadn't realized just how often they'd made that contact, and losing it was physically painful. His fingers ached to touch her warm skin, twitching with the need to reach out whenever they weren't occupied with some small repair. He was tearing through the backlog of broken things at a terrifying rate solely to give himself something to do with his hands other than put them on Carmine.
They'd never been careful with each other. Carmine had never feared him like everyone else in town did. She'd exploded into his life in a shower of smiles and touches and teasing, neatly filling up every empty space in his world. Now she was holding herself apart from him, and the chill of loneliness was creeping back in. It was more than he could bear.
He planted himself in the doorway, watching her putting the kettle on for their afternoon tea and humming to herself. Her smile didn't falter when she looked up to see him watching her, but she edged around him cautiously, her back against the doorframe, instead of brushing past him as she would have in the past, and he couldn't take it anymore.
Reaching out, he caught her around the waist and pulled her into the back with him, her back to his chest as he tightened his grip on her and breathed in the scent of her hair. Carmine froze in his arms, her body stiff for a long moment before he felt her exhale and tentatively cover his hands with her own where they rested on her stomach.
“You're killing me, love,” he rumbled, his accent coloring his words more than he usually allowed. He pressed his forehead into the curve where her neck met her shoulder, careful to not kiss her because if he started, he wouldn't stop.
“I'm sorry,” Carmine whispered, squeezing his hands, “I was trying to make it easier. Touching you when we can't do anything... it hurts.”
He flinched, cursing himself. He'd been so busy thinking about what he needed that he'd never considered how the waiting was affecting her. A bloody poor excuse for a lover he was turning out to be. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to let her go.
“No, don't,” Carmine gasped, turning around to throw herself back into his arms, her face buried against his chest, “It hurts more not to touch you.”
They clung to each other like shipwreck victims to the last spar of wood that could save them. She was trembling in his arms and he stroked her hair, hoping he was soothing her instead of making it worse. “It's only a few more years,” he reminded himself as much as her, but the words were cold comfort when his soul was screaming that he had to have her now.
She hugged him tighter, then let him go and backed away, her face flushed but free of tears. “We'll make it,” she said, managing to sound more confident than he felt.
After that it was a constant dance. They walked a razor-thin line. Too little touching felt like drowning, too much would start something they couldn't yet finish. They found an outlet of sorts in words, establishing exactly what their future would look like. She'd move in with him on her twenty second birthday.
Marriage was never mentioned, but he already knew which ring was going to grace her finger. All he had to do was wait.
So they waited. Time passed. Carmine waltzed off to college and came back home often. The seasons changed and changed again. And gradually his patience started to fray. Still, he was managing even though sending her home to her parents at the end of each summer evening and watching her pack her bags and return to college at the end of every vacation grew more torturous by the day.
That all changed when they were once again graced by the unwelcome presence of Corbin Farley. Apparently he hadn't tried hard enough to scare the boy off.
He told himself not to interfere. Carmine had made her feelings on the boy clear; she wasn't interested. Besides, they were talking right outside the shop's window; he'd be able to see if the boy was upsetting her.
She had her arms crossed in front of her, and although she didn't look happy, the boy didn't seem to be bothering her too much. He seemed to be asking her something, because Carmine was shaking her head repeatedly, staring down at her feet. Her downward gaze meant she didn't see the boy reach out to touch her arm, but Smith did, and he was just about to go outside and politely suggest the boy leave his assistant alone when the boy caught sight of him through the glass and let his hand drop. He excused himself a moment later, and Carmine came back inside, slumping back against the door as soon as it closed behind her.
“He asked me out again,” she said miserably, “Since we had such a good time last summer.”
A sickening rush of jealousy flared in his gut, turning his blood into something corrosive. “And you said-?” he tried not to snarl.
She didn't roll her eyes at him, but he could tell it was a near-miss which made him feel a little better. If the idea was eye-rolling, that meant she hadn't been tempted. “I said no.” Peeling herself away from the door, she stormed into the back, dropping into her chair and covering her eyes with her hands, “I hate this. I hate it.”
He watched her from the doorway, anxiety replacing the jealousy. “Hate what?”
“This!” She gestured wildly between the two of them, “I hate having to wait. I hate having to keep this a secret. I hate having to make something up when the guys at college ask me out instead of being able to tell them that I'm seeing someone. I hate it.”
“It's only a few years, love,” he said weakly, repeating the words that had become their mantra although they'd long since stopped bringing comfort.
She stared down at her hands. “It feels like forever.”
“What-” He cleared his throat and forced the question out, certain he wouldn't like her answer, “What do you want?”
She'd tell him that she wanted to put a stop to whatever it was between them. She'd want to find someone her own age she didn't have to hide. She'd no doubt never want to see him again. Carmine laughed bitterly, “I want things I can't have. I want to go to the diner with you and hold your hand in front of the whole town. I want to go home with you at night instead of back to my parents or my dorm. I want to be able to kiss the man I love.”
Smith's breath caught; his heart racing so hard he briefly feared he was going into cardiac arrest. For all the words they'd shared about this, neither had ever mentioned love. He hadn't dared hope Carmine might feel more for him than affection and desire, and he could have lived quite contentedly with just that. It was more than he'd ever had the right to hope for. As for himself, he hadn't wanted to scare her off. He'd told himself he would tell her someday once he was certain she wouldn't leave.
Carmine loved him and wanted him, and his resolve crumbled in that instant, his determination to do this right helpless in the face of Carmine's love. It was foolish, needlessly risky, and he couldn't possibly care less. What Carmine wanted, Carmine would have, and since by some miracle she wanted him, he'd count his blessings.
“I'm sorry,” she stared to say, her face paling as he approached her. Smith leaned against the table and lowered himself to kneel before her chair, his right leg extended awkwardly as his back refused to cooperate. Taking her hand in both of his, he lifted it to his mouth, his eyes sliding shut as he pressed a fervent kiss to her fingers. Carmine loved him. He was old enough to be her father and she loved him.
The fingers of her free hand carded through his hair, her voice soft and surprised as she said, “I thought you might be mad. That I- We never talked about that.”
Pressing her hand against his cheek, he smirked at the very idea. “Oh, I'm irate. Say it again.” He opened his eyes, wanting to see her face as she said it properly.
A warm flush had overwritten her earlier paleness, and her eyes were soft and bluer than he'd ever seen them as she told him, “I love you.”
He inhaled sharply, unprepared for what hearing those words did to him. His entire body was trembling, his bones vibrating like an electrical current was running through him. She loved him. Carmine loved him. “Again,” he rasped, pressing his lips to her palm without taking his eyes away from hers.
“I love you,” she whispered, and he could drown in her beautiful eyes, “I've always loved you.”
He circled her wrist with kisses, pushing up the sleeve of her loose button-down shirt, wanting nothing more than to wrench the fabric off her body and leave her clad only in the thin white camisole she wore beneath so he could kiss his way up her arm and over her shoulder until he reached her sweet mouth and tasted the words on her lips. The tattered edges of his self-control allowed for no such thing. If he undressed her at all, even to remove one unnecessary layer, he'd yank her down with him and take her on the floor of the shop. Carmine deserved better.
He forced himself to release her hand and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her forward in her chair so he could bury his face in her throat and beg, “Keep saying it.”
“I love you. I love you,” Carmine crooned, gently massaging his scalp as he kissed every bit of her he could reach, feeling the vibration of those perfect words against his lips as she said it over and over. “I love you.”
“I love you, Carmine,” he rasped in her ear, and she burrowed against him with a breathless little moan that was suddenly the only noise he wanted to hear. He lifted his head to look into her rapt face, their lips only millimeters apart. Her eyes sparkled with tears, but there was such joy in them that it soothed any fear that his words might not be welcome.
In hindsight, he was never sure which one of them moved first, but they were suddenly kissing, mouths moving desperately against each other as he pulled her closer. He sat up straighter as he thrust his tongue into her mouth, feeling like he wanted to eat her alive. He was kneeling between her legs, and when Carmine arched into him it brought his straining erection into contact with that part of her he'd scarcely allowed himself to dream about.
Carmine broke the kiss with a stuttered gasp, her eyes wide and shocked, but she didn't jerk away from him. She seemed frozen, and he couldn't move either, knowing he should pull away from her and helpless to do so. They were in love. There shouldn't be any distance between them.
They hovered in that moment for an eternity, gazes locked, before Carmine gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. His body was responding before his mind even registered what he'd seen, his hips moving instinctively to rub himself against her, and he was willing to swear he could feel her heat even through his wool pants and the denim of her jeans.
With a whimper, Carmine wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer as her legs went around his hips to hold him against her. He slid his hands under her button-down, tracing her sides through the thin cotton camisole, half-afraid to touch her breasts despite what their lower halves were already doing. Instead he slid his arms around her, holding her as tightly as he could as he ground against her, trying to mold them together into one being so he never had to watch her walk away from him again.
He took her mouth, muffling the truly ridiculous noises he was making against her lips. Carmine was digging her nails into his shoulder, her breath coming in frantic gasps, and he'd been two seconds from orgasm practically since the moment he'd kissed her, but he didn't want this to end. He just wanted to stay in this perfect moment where he could touch Carmine and kiss her and know she loved him.
Then Carmine cried out against his lips, pressing herself impossibly closer, and he changed his mind. This was the moment he wanted to live in with Carmine clinging to him like he was the only thing holding her together. His own climax, although staggering, was nearly an afterthought.
He tore his mouth from hers to kiss her throat, feeling her chest heaving for breath as he kept her crushed against him, unwilling to let even the slightest distance intrude on them. Carmine was his, and he'd never let her go.
Her hand traced the side of his face, and he looked up to see the beatific smile playing at her lips when the shop bell rang out, and reality came crashing back. Carmine shoved him away, gasping out an appalled, “Sorry!” when he landed on his ass, his bad back giving out at last.
A hesitant “Hello?” followed by a sneeze announced the arrival of the town pharmacist.
“Be right there, Mr. Boyer!” Carmine called, her voice shaking as they looked at each other in horror. Moving jerkily, she smoothed her hair and stood up, rearranging her clothes with hands that trembled. “Am I-?”
She was flushed, her lips kiss-swollen, but she'd pass muster. He nodded, and she darted out to deal with the customer, leaving him to try to pull himself together. Gritting his teeth, he straightened his leg then pulled out a handkerchief to clean up some of the mess. His pants were almost certainly a loss, and what the bloody hell had he been thinking? Carmine deserved tenderness, candlelight, a bed, and he'd forced himself on her in the back room of the shop like some kind of animal.
She certainly hadn't been able to shove him away from her fast enough. God, what had he done?
What seemed like hours later the bell rang again, and Carmine rejoined him in the back, looking drained. “That was too close,” she muttered, ignoring her own chair in favor of sitting on the floor at his feet, resting her head against his knee. “When I heard the bell, I was convinced it was the councilor.”
Some of the tension seemed to bleed out of her once they were in contact again, and he hesitantly lifted his hand to thread it through her curls, her eyes slipping shut as she made a small, pleased sound. Perhaps he'd overreacted, because she certainly didn't seem to mind him touching her. Had she really not minded what he'd done to her?
“That was wonderful,” Carmine purred, her hand slipping up his pants leg to caress his hair-roughened calf. She blinked her eyes open, looking up at him ruefully, “But next time we'd better make sure we lock the door.”
Next time? She wanted there to be a next time? The relief made him dizzy. He hadn't shocked her or disgusted her; she'd said it was wonderful. She wanted to do it again.
They weren't waiting anymore. The time for that had long since passed, and the councilor could go fuck herself. This was only a problem if they got caught, and they'd be careful. Judgment would come swiftly if they were caught. He knew how it looked; a man old enough to be her father taking advantage of his young employee, but it was a risk he would have to take. What did his good name in the town man if it meant he and Carmine were kept apart? Even so, next time they were going to do it right. “We're never going to sell some of this junk,” he said finally, the first words he'd spoken since 'I love you,' and Carmine glanced up at him, taken aback by his apparent change of subject, “Why don't we take a load out to the cabin on Sunday?”
For a moment she looked hurt, then his meaning registered. A slow smile spread across her face, “Sounds like a big job.”
“Could take all day,” he agreed, tugging gently on her hair. A secluded location, a door that locked, a bed... Carmine deserved better than a quick fumble in the back room of the shop, and he was going to give her everything she deserved and more.
“Count me in,” she purred, resting her chin on his knee to beam up at him, and he was more certain than ever that he wasn't worthy of her, but he was never go.
CHAPTER THREE
Sunday morning dawned clear and bright, the sun shining as if it too was celebrating. This was hardly the first time they'd spent the day moving th
ings around between his house, the shop, and the cabin, but he still felt like they were all but advertising their plans. It wasn't until Carmine was next to him in the Bentley, a few boxes stowed in the truck for verisimilitude, that he started to relax.
She rolled the window down, the cool spring breeze playing with her curls, and a feeling of unreality stole over him. This astonishing creature couldn't possibly be real. This whole thing was some kind of dream or hallucination, and for one moment he thought about the world Carmine had concocted for them. It was hardly less believable than thinking Carmine loved him.
“What?” she asked, catching him looking at her out of the corner of his eye.
“Just thinking,” he dismissed, not wanting to tell her about his silly flight of fancy.
Carmine smirked at him, “Bad things happen when you do that.”
“That I'm a very lucky man,” he continued as if he'd planned to, his voice arch, and he enjoyed the way her pale skin flushed at the compliment. They made the rest of the drive in silence, Carmine gazing out the window while he tried desperately not to think about what they were about to do. If he allowed himself to think about that, he'd drive them into a ditch, or give in to his urge to pull off the road so he could take her in the damned car. If they were going to do this, they were going to do it right.
Carmine had visited the cabin before, albeit not regularly, but once they arrived, she hesitated, looking around like she was a first-time guest. Her posture was awkward, and she looked so heartbreakingly beautiful in that moment that Smith cursed himself. What the hell was he doing? He was more than twenty years her senior. Carmine should be partying with her friends, graduating from college, and getting her life together, not locked up here with him.