Fight Or Flight (Tempted Series Generation 2.0)

by Janine Infante Bosco

  She shakes her head and releases her lip.

  “I swear I’m not a prude. It’s just…well…you know.” Her voice fades as she diverts her eyes to the empty beer bottle. She lifts it and I open my mouth to remind her I finished it, but I lose my will to speak the second her lips wrap around the bottle. Her head tilts back, revealing her neck, and my eyes take in the smooth span of skin.

  I’ve never wanted to mark something so badly.

  Frowning, she lowers the empty bottle and glances back at the blunt.

  Her eyes meet mine and she holds out her hand to take the blunt from my fingertips.

  “Show me how to do it,” she whispers.

  I don’t know if it’s the weed or if it's knowing that our time is limited, but all my common sense seems to flee me. I don’t give a fuck if we’re being reckless. I don’t care about anything but the here and now.

  “I’ve got a better idea,” I say as I lay my legs flat in the sand. “Come here,” I say, motioning to my lap.

  Her hooded eyes widen slightly, but she obliges and straddles my lap. I close my eyes for a second, my senses on overload as I will my dick not to react.

  Opening my eyes, a breath escapes me as I stare at her.

  Fuck, she’s perfect.

  “I’m going to give you a shottie,” I say hoarsely.

  She gives me a lopsided grin and that’s all it takes for me to question how the fuck I’m ever going to leave her.

  “A what?”

  Swallowing, I reply, “I hit it and then I blow it into your mouth.”

  If there was ever a time to reach into my pocket and grab my phone to snap a photo, it’s right now. The look on her face is one I never want to forget. It’s the look I’ll want to see when my body feels like giving up. The look I’ll remember when I’m on the other side of the world, wondering why the fuck I ever left her. It’s the look I’ll recall when the enemy is standing in front of me and I have no choice but to fight.

  “You’re going to blow the smoke into my mouth?”

  I nod.

  “Yo, Eric, if you ain’t smoking that shit, pass it,” Danny calls. Her eyes drift over my shoulder at the sound of his voice.

  “What do you say?” I prod.

  She looks back at me and a grin spreads across her face.

  “Blow me.”

  Somehow, I manage to laugh, but really, I want to fucking kiss the shit out of her. I bring the blunt to my lips and hit it hard, filling my cheeks with smoke. She watches my mouth intently, and it takes every ounce of control to hold the smoke in my mouth. When I finally lower the blunt and with my free hand, I urge her to come closer. She leans in, but it’s not close enough for the smoke to travel from my mouth to hers. Despite the warning bells sounding in my head, I slide my fingers into her hair and cup the back of her head, pulling her closer until her lips are two inches away from mine.

  It’s a good thing my mouth is full, or it would be on hers, ravaging every crevice, and that ain’t something I want to do with an audience. Nah, the first time my lips touch hers, I want us to be alone so I can commit every stroke of her tongue and every moan to memory. I drag my eyes away from her lips and meet her gaze. With my hand still cradling the back of her head, I slowly exhale.

  “Take it! Take it! Take it!” Everyone around us starts to chant.

  Her lips part and she inhales deeply, the smoke passes from my mouth to hers and it’s hot as fuck. I lean closer, my mouth a centimeter from hers. It would take nothing to kiss her. To taste her. Unfortunately, she starts to cough uncontrollably, and that sobers me up. I quickly hand the joint back to Danny and untangle my fingers from her hair. Patting her on the back, I bend my head and touch my forehead to hers.

  “You inhaled too much too quick,” I explain, stroking her back as she continues to cough. Danny grabs another beer and pops the top off. The coughing eases up and he hands it to her. Without a word, she takes the beer and gulps it. When she finally brings it away from her lips, she looks at me.

  “My throat is on fire.”

  Her throat.

  My pants.

  Same shit.

  I lift her from my lap and stand. Taking her hands, I pull her to her feet, and she stumbles, falling against my chest.

  Shit.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m a little lightheaded,” she admits, straightening up. “Are you going to dance with me?”

  I laugh.

  “Not what I had in mind, no,” I say, brushing the hair away from my face. “I thought we’d go for a walk.”

  But seeing as she can barely stand straight, I’m thinking that’s off the table.

  “Is that code for Brooklyn you’re a mess and need to sober up?”

  I shake my head.

  It’s code for I wanted to be alone with you so I could kiss you.

  “Well, as long as you don’t blow anymore smoke in my mouth, lead the way Soldier Boy,” she whispers as she loops her arm through mine. Maybe if we walk along the shore, the breeze will sober her up and I won’t feel guilty about taking her mouth.

  “That’s the first time anyone’s called me that,” I say.

  “Well, you should probably get used to it,” she replies, leaning her head on my shoulder. “Are we going to take that walk or what?”

  “Yeah,” I whisper. “Let’s do it.”

  I might not be able to swim in the ocean with her, but we’ll always have a walk on the beach.

  I tell Danny we’ll be back, and I lead her toward the water. We walk quietly along the shore for a while until she starts to shiver. I remove my jacket and drape it over her shoulders and wrap my arms around her.

  “Do you want to head back?”

  Lifting her head from my chest, she shakes her head.

  “Not yet,” she whispers, her eyes locking with mine. “Warm me up.”

  I stare at her for a moment, searching for a sign. The green light girls normally give you when you silently seek permission to kiss them. She licks her lips and my pants grow ten sizes too small.

  “You’re killing me,” I groan as her hands slide down my shirt, curling around the thin material.

  “How?”

  I cluck my tongue against the roof of my mouth.

  “How fucked up are you?”

  “I’m not.”

  “I want to believe you.”

  I want to believe her so fucking bad.

  “I’ll sing the alphabet backwards for you,” she offers.

  I raise an eyebrow. Maybe she isn’t as fucked up as I think she is. I certainly can’t recite that shit backwards.

  “Why did you ask me?” she probes.

  I lift my hand and run my fingers down her cheek. I bet her father is looking down at us, regretting he ever stepped in front of that bullet.

  “Because I don’t want you impaired when I kiss you.” Her eyes widen and her mouth forms the perfect little O. “Not even a little,” I continue.

  Then it happens.

  The yes.

  Consent radiates from her eyes and her fingers tighten around my t-shirt.

  “You want to kiss me?’

  “More than anything.”

  “Well, what are you waiting for, Soldier Boy?”

  I’ve kissed a lot of girls in my seventeen years and I can honestly tell you, I’ve never been as nervous as I am right now. It’s like some part of me knows that there is no going back. Once my lips touch hers, she’ll own me. Mind, body, and soul. My heart hammers inside my chest as I keep my gaze pinned to hers. Brooklyn tips her chin up, giving me that silent yes one more time, and that’s all the drive I need to press my lips to hers.

  So soft.

  So sweet.

  A moan tears from my throat as her lips part in invitation and my tongue slides over hers.

  So very fucking sweet.

  I lift my hands to her face, holding her steady as the wind blows her hair around us. My tongue slides deeper, tangling with hers, and her hands slide up and around my ne
ck, pulling me closer. She kisses me harder and the little bit of control I thought I had slips from me. My teeth scrape against her bottom lip, enticing a moan from the back of her throat, and my tongue charges back into her mouth, teasing and tasting.

  Exploring.

  Savoring.

  Claiming.

  I’m about to trail my lips over her jaw and make my descent to her tempting neck when a phone rings. It’s like a bucket of water is poured over our heads because we both pull away dazed and a little confused. It continues to ring as I stare at her swollen lips. It rings and rings, neither of us making a move to see whose it is. When the ringing stops, she draws her hands away from my neck and touches her fingertips to her lips.

  I narrow my eyes, trying to read her.

  Please don’t let her regret it.

  “Say something,” I plead.

  “Do it again.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief, rushing to reach for her when the phone starts to ring again. I mutter a curse and pat my pants pockets for my phone. Pulling it out, I glance at the screen and see it’s my dad.

  “Christ, he really is the fun police,” I hiss.

  Sighing, I go to accept the call, but Brooklyn’s hand closes around my wrist.

  “Let it ring,” she begs.

  Her wish is my command.

  Ring, baby, ring.

  Fifteen

  Brooklyn

  I’m kissing Eric. Just in case you need a visual, I’m straddling him in the back seat of my mom’s car, his hand is on my boob, my fingers are buried in his hair and we’re kissing like our lives depend on it. I’ve never experienced anything like it before, and I don’t think he has either. It’s like I came alive the moment I kissed him.

  All my worries faded.

  All my inhibitions disappeared.

  I’m free.

  No pain. No sadness. No fear.

  I don’t have to pretend to be strong or brave, I’m just a girl standing in front of a boy allowing myself to feel for the first time. It doesn’t matter that my mom had arranged for me to tag along with him either. In fact, as soon as I get home, I am thanking her because tonight might just be the best night of my life. If I could freeze time so it never ends, I would.

  “We really need to pump the brakes on this,” he pants in between kisses.

  It’s the third time he’s said those exact words. The first was when we were on the beach. We went from standing on the shoreline, exploring one another’s mouths to rolling around in the sand, exploring each other’s bodies. Once we realized we were making a spectacle and anyone could see us, we peeled our bodies and mouths from one another, said a quick goodbye to Eric’s friends, and hurried to the car. Luckily, Eric didn’t throw me over the fence again. Instead, his hands roamed my body as he hoisted me up and over the tall fence. We made our way to the car and because he wasn’t certain that I was okay to drive; he took the keys and got behind the wheel.

  However, we didn’t make it very far. Hell, he didn’t even start the car. He leaned over the console and gave me another earth-shattering kiss and the next thing I knew, he was pulling me onto his lap. My ass hit the steering wheel and the horn sounded. That’s about the time he said we needed to pump the brakes again. It’s also how we wound up in the back seat of my mom’s car.

  There is no horn for my ass to honk back here.

  Eric’s big palm closes around my breast and with his thumb, he strokes my hardened nipple over the fabric of my thin tank top. A gasp slips past my lips, one he quickly swallows as I arch my back, silently pleading for him not to stop.

  “You never wear a bra, do you?” he growls against my mouth.

  “Not usually,” I pant.

  His teeth nip my lips as he pulls down the front of my shirt, exposing me completely. My skin heats from the swell of my breasts to my cheeks and I hold my breath as I wait for his gaze to lower and drink me in, but he keeps those baby blues pinned to my eyes.

  He licks his swollen lips before grinning at me. His eyes drop to my boobs and he draws in a ragged breath, gently cupping them. It feels even better without the barrier of my shirt and a moan escapes my throat as I watch him caress, explore, and tease.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, lifting his gaze. “You’re killing me, Brook. Fucking killing me.”

  A frown ticks the corners of my lips.

  “Why? I’m not telling you to stop,” I whisper, winding my arms around his neck. My mind drifts back to the beach and I recall the conflicted expression he wore on his face as he told me he didn’t want me impaired when he kissed me for the first time.

  “I’m not drunk either if that’s what you think,” I blurt. “I mean, I was tipsy, yeah, but I sobered up and the pot really did nothing other than make me hack up a lung.” That last part isn’t entirely true, I’ve got a severe case of the munchies and could totally eat an entire pizza by myself, but he doesn’t need to know all of that. “I swear to you I’m okay. You’re not making me do anything I don’t want to, Eric.”

  He eyes me warily and I sigh softly as my fingers draw circles on the back of his neck.

  “I like kissing you,” I admit. “I like having you touch me too.”

  His tongue takes another swipe across his lower lip.

  “How far are we going to take this?” he questions as his hands slide to my hips. I draw my lip between my teeth and think about that, wondering if I should tell him that I’ve never had sex before. I don’t know that this will go that far or if he even wants it to, so I decide to keep that information to myself.

  “I mean, I…I…I’m not pressuring you or anything. I’m good with kissing and touching…” He blows out a breath and a crooked smirk fills his face. “Especially these,” he says, lifting his hands back to my boobs. He gives them a squeeze and his expression grows serious as soon as our eyes lock. “I just don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and regret everything we did tonight.” He pauses and something I can’t quite place flickers in his blue eyes. “I can’t take any more guilt.”

  My eyebrows draw together.

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Why would you feel any guilt?”

  His Adam’s apple works as he forces a swallow.

  “Nothing, forget it,” he says hoarsely.

  “We’re just fooling around,” I whisper, keeping my eyes pinned to his. “No regrets.”

  How can I possibly regret something that feels so right? Since Eric kissed me I haven’t thought of all the things that could possibly go wrong between us and I think that’s because deep inside I know no matter what happens from now on the only regret to have is the one we’ll feel if we don’t explore whatever this is that’s happening between us and if I lose my virginity tonight…well, I know I won’t regret that either. I don’t have the words to describe what I’m feeling, all I know is that when I’m with Eric, I feel whole.

  Bending my head, I press my lips to his jaw and trail kisses upward to his ear. “Kiss me, Eric.”

  Kiss me and don’t stop until you leave me for bootcamp.

  Another groan rips from the back of his throat as he leans away from me. Taking my face in his hands, he smashes his mouth against mine and kisses me with everything he’s got. His tongue teases my lips, parting them as he delves deeper. My fingers curl around the ends of his hair and I inch even closer to him.

  I’ve been kissed before, several times in fact, but I’ve never felt forever in a kiss. A ridiculous notion considering everything in my life has an expiration date.

  His hands slide from my boobs down to my thighs. He squeezes them and lifts his hips, making me feel how much he wants me too, and then something vibrates in his pants. I might not have a lot of experience with sex and all, but I know for certain his pants aren’t supposed to vibrate when he’s turned on. Tearing my mouth from his, I lift off his lap and stare at the bulge in his pants and he barks out a laugh.

  A breathless laugh that makes those butterflies flutter in my belly again.

&n
bsp; “It’s my phone,” he explains, lifting his hips to retrieve it from his pocket. “I put it on silent when my dad started blowing it up. Shit,” he hisses, meeting my gaze. “We were supposed to be home an hour ago.”

  I totally forgot about our curfew. To be fair, I haven’t had one. I guess that’s what happens when you spend so much time caring for your only living parent, there is no worry about obeying a curfew when you have a nonexistent social life.

  Pulling my shirt up, I cover myself and roll off him so we are sitting side by side. He looks at me and shakes his head.

  “I’m so fucked.”

  “Why?”

  If anything, I’m probably in just as much trouble as him, if not more. I’m the one who was supposed to be responsible and drive us to and from the party.

  Shit.

  “Because he’s going to look at you, see your hair all messed and your lips—fuck, your lips are perfect,” he says, reaching out to touch them. “Perfect and swollen as shit. He’s going to fucking kill me.”

  Sure he’s exaggerating, I lean over the driver’s seat and pull down the visor. The mirror lights up and as soon as I get a peek at myself, my eyes bulge. I’m a mess, my hair resembles a rat’s nest and I look like I’ve had collagen injected into my lips.

  “Oh my God,” I shriek.

  “Yeah, now you’re getting it.”

  “How the hell am I going to look your dad in the eye and what if your mom is waiting up for us? One glance at me and they’re going to think…well, you know.”

  “Don’t kid yourself, he’s totally expecting this.”

  My gaze snaps to him. At this rate, my eyes are going to fall out of their sockets.

  “What?”

  He reaches for his leather jacket—the first thing we removed from my body when we climbed into the back seat—and fishes out a strip of condoms, holding them in the air like a prize.

  “Courtesy of the Tiger.”

  “Your father gave you condoms?”

  “No glove, no love,” Eric replies, shoving them back inside his pocket. “Apparently, after seeing you sneak upstairs from my room this morning, he thought I might get the urge to throw you up against the wall and impregnate you.”