by Vivian Arend
She was about to protest, those beautiful lips opening so she could explain probably in more detail why she was the worst thing ever for him, but Trevor didn’t give a damn what the details were, or what demons she was fighting—
Wait. No. He cared a hell of a lot about what was wrong, but it didn’t matter right this instant.
“I like you, Becky. You make me smile, and you make me think.” He reached out and slid his hand down her arm until his fingers linked with hers. He squeezed lightly then brought her hand toward him to rest on his chest. “You make me feel things in here that turn my brain to mush, and if that goes along with the laughter we’ve already proved we know how to do? Let’s get to know each other, and we can focus on things we can do instead of the things we can’t.”
Her eyes were sparkling, not with delight this time, but with a dash of emotion and moisture he was pretty sure she didn’t want him to mention.
“As long as you don’t feel obligated,” she began.
“Ha, it doesn’t say anything in the Good Neighbour manual about doing things out of obligation. It says you do them because you want to, and that’s pretty much where I’m at.”
He slipped his hand lower to curl his fingers under her chin and rub his thumb lightly over those lips that he’d been craving ever since the first day. A craving he had every intention of finally satisfying, if he could convince her to say he could.
“I’m not trying to push you too hard, but I sure would like to kiss you. While we’re being honest, and all that.”
She swallowed hard, her tongue slipping out for an instant as she moistened her lips. Her tongue darted against his thumb, and another shock rolled through him, making him hard. Making him ache.
“Just a kiss,” he teased softly. “If you’d like.”
Instead of answering with words, Becky’s fingers moved. From where they rested against his chest she slid them upward slowly, oh so slowly, until her hand rested at the back of his neck. Her fingers gently curled around him then tentatively tugged him forward.
Trevor’s heart pounded like he’d been going full speed all day, but he waited, watching closely. Moving the instant she applied the barest pressure to his neck, bringing him toward her lips.
She tilted her head slightly, and he copied her, and a moment later they made contact, the sweet warm air of her breath striking first, sending the taste of her into his mouth as he inhaled the split second before their lips met.
He was a kid again, when every touch from the girl he was sweet on was enough to send his system whirling.
Oh, he’d kissed a few girls over the years, and had always enjoyed it, and it had always given him a rush, but this? Like taking a hard shot of proof whiskey.
Trevor was reeling, drunk on one taste. She tasted like innocence and sin. Becky might think she wasn’t the right woman to be his girlfriend, but she was wrong. This was what he’d been craving without knowing it.
He deepened the kiss, pleasure rattling through his system like a runaway train.
Oh, hell yeah.
Chapter Twelve
She wasn’t sure how she’d ended up in this situation. Not after being so convinced the only choice was to tell Trevor they needed to remain strictly friends. That there could never be anything more between them…
Becky was very glad things hadn’t gone the way she’d planned.
A swirling sensation tickled her stomach as adrenaline raced through her body, but it wasn’t a flight-or-fight response. It wasn’t like any sexual experience she’d had before.
Trevor touched her as if she were precious. As if she were breakable, and maybe she was, but she also wanted this much. This much at least.
A kiss, willingly given and willingly accepted. He pressed closer, his lips warm on hers, and his simple closeness triggered a riot of emotions. Becky savoured it all.
His touch. His nearness, the scent of him around her. Strong and masculine and fresh, in spite of the work they’d been doing. It was honest labour on top of a clean body, with strong hands that touched her with infinite care, and as his tongue teased briefly against her lips, she opened willingly, a soft moan escaping at the pleasure turning her limbs soft and trembling.
All too soon he pulled back, a low groan escaping him as well as he pressed their foreheads together and looked deep into her eyes. “Becky Hall, you taste damn good.”
She laughed, the sound bubbling up from deep inside her. Not boisterous or loud, but it rang in her ears as if she’d shouted. An expression of joy at experiencing something she’d never had before.
Suddenly it was important she tell him that, although the news was probably going to freak him out.
“That was my first.”
He frowned, and she saw the gears turning as he tried to figure out what she meant.
She took pity on him. “My first kiss. Or at least the first one that counts.”
He turned his shock pretty smoothly into a smile. “Well, for a beginner, you’re pretty damn good. I’ll have to do it again to be certain, if that’s okay with you.”
“I guess we could,” she teased, breathless to repeat the experience. “Just to be sure.”
He rested his hands on her hips and kissed her. This time less an outpouring of passion and more kiss of a friend. Not a fire that turned her limbs molten, but a sweet, tender caress that had her leaning in, eager for more.
When he pulled away this time he stayed close. The firm grasp where he held her reassuring instead of frightening. His fingers rested on the top of her butt, his thumbs sliding back and forth slowly along the edge of her shorts. He wasn’t touching skin, but it felt as if he were lighting a fire. It had to be the friction causing flames to burst out all over her skin.
Her fingers were still around his neck, and she boldly stroked him as well, their body positions the closest thing to a hug she’d had in ages.
She’d daydreamed about moments like this, but it was different than what she’d imagined. How simply touching lips could cause her heart rate to increase and small tingles to dance all over her skin—it was pretty amazing.
Trevor slid his hands lower, easing off on the pressure, but he was definitely cupping her butt as he leaned in for another go-around. It was addictive—touching him, and being touched—and the longer they went on, the more aware she became of the changes in his body. His muscular hips pressed forward, and he held her snugly against him, and if kissing made her feel tingly inside, it had made him hard, the solid length of his arousal pressing through his jeans against her belly.
He pulled back not even a second later, voice full of concern. “Becky? You okay?”
She nodded. “I wasn’t scared.”
He tapped his fingers under her chin and tilted her head back. “You gasped. Like something frightened you.”
Whoops. She hesitated, not quite ready to admit that maybe she should be scared, but she was more curious than anything. “We should talk.”
Trevor held out a hand. “Then let’s go talk,” he said.
She threaded her fingers through his and followed along. “The cleaning…”
“Really?” He gave her a look. “I’ll interrupt kissing to talk, but not to clean.”
A small laugh escaped. “Good to know you have your priorities. I do need to finish cleaning, though.”
He tugged her after him, back into the kitchen. “I’ll call in the clan to help. There’s too much for us to do. With their help, we could have the garbage out of the entire house in a few hours.”
“We can’t do that,” she protested. “I think it’s supposed to be kept secret—the bit about how the Rylers weren’t taking care of the place. I don’t want everyone in town to know and have them embarrassed.”
“Fine, we’ll deal with it together with just a little help. Lee and Rachel know how to keep their mouths shut. We’ll double date.
“And clean my house? Sounds like so much fun,” she deadpanned.
“It will be,” Trevor assured her.
Then instead of pulling out a chair for her to sit in, he picked her up and plopped her on top of the sturdy kitchen table.
“Trevor.” Her hands flew instinctively to his shoulders to catch her balance.
He gave her a wink before his expression edged toward serious. “The talking we need to do— Should I break out a bottle of something strong?”
She wasn’t sure exactly how much she was going to tell him. If she told him the whole thing, he’d probably appreciate having had a few shots first.
But then again, she’d probably have to drink most of the bottle to be able to get it all out in the first place.
Nope. Start small.
“We don’t need to get drunk.”
He nodded sharply. “You’ve got secrets, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to spill them all right now, but is there anything you want me to know?”
“I’d like a hug,” she confessed. That much was easy to admit.
Trevor laughed. He stepped between her legs and enveloped her in his strong arms. Becky closed her eyes as she slipped her arms around his body and squeezed tight.
They stayed like that for what felt like a long time, and yet not nearly long enough, his muscular body a rock-solid wall to cling to. The scent of him another layer of what made it perfect.
“How come you don’t know things? How come that was your first official kiss?” Trevor asked softly. “Are those safe things to ask?”
She dipped her head, her cheek rubbing his shirt. It was kind of nice not looking him in the eye while they had this conversation. “I grew up with very strict rules. We weren’t allowed televisions or computers, and we only got approved books and magazines. I didn’t go to the local school or the library. Lots of stuff like that.”
He held her protectively, one hand rubbing small circles between her shoulder blades, and it felt nice. “Were your parents really strict, or is this something else?”
Oh boy. Already she was going to have to throw herself onto his mercy and hope what she said went no further.
She clung to his shirt tightly so she could stare at the wall instead of his face. “We lived in a small community in rural Manitoba. My parents were with a group of families that all belonged to the same church. They set the rules, and they were…not typical, I guess.”
Call a spade a spade, Mark had said—her rescuer on the road, and the first person outside the family she could honestly call a friend.
But it felt too soon. She trusted Trevor, but some stories weren’t ready to be shared. So she kept it simple and skipped about a dozen intermediate steps.
“I ran away. I didn’t agree with the things they thought were important, and I didn’t like how I was being treated, and I didn’t see any other way to make things change other than to get out.”
“Gutsy move.”
She hadn’t been gutsy; she’d been desperate.
Becky broke their embrace so she could push him back, needing to see his expression. She still had to look up to meet his eyes, even with her sitting on the table.
“I’ve got an awful lot to learn, so if you want to go back to just being friends, I’m okay with that.”
Trevor tilted his head to the side. “Now why would I want to go back to being just friends after I’ve gotten to kiss you?”
“Because I have a lot of what they call baggage.”
Trevor took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his gaze examining her face, his expression thoughtful. “You don’t understand why I kissed you if you think I’m going to tuck tail and run because you admit you’ve had a shitty time of it.”
Becky tilted her chin up. “Maybe I don’t know why you kissed me, but I’m saying if you want easy and uncomplicated, I’m not it.”
“Then we’re a matched pair. I’m complicated too, remember?”
The sensation in her gut was confusing. Sheer utter relief. She caught hold of his shirt and tugged him toward her to steal another hug.
A protective cage of warmth wrapped around her. His hugs were even better than kissing.
—or maybe not.
She might have to do a lot of both before making a decision on that.
His mind raced, and the list of questions he wanted answers to grew by the second. But the way she’d looked at him, with such sadness and desperation in her eyes—the need he’d seen was enough to keep him where he was. Silence fell as he held her. Giving as much support as he could, although a simple hug couldn’t be enough.
He totally lacked the smarts to know what to say next that would be brilliant or soothing or…whatever Becky needed.
Lee would know what to ask. Or Anna. Even Steve was better at figuring things out than Trevor was, and at that moment as he held Becky in his arms, he wished for a cheat sheet like he’d made to study for his ninth-grade departmental exams.
She’d run away from a bad situation, getting out with no ID, no nothing except herself from the sound of it. Thankfulness for his own solid upbringing turned bitter an instant later because it wasn’t fair—neither of them had done a thing to deserve the hand they’d been dealt.
Thinking of family caused a question to escape. “Is there anyone you want to talk to?”
So much for being brilliant. Becky stiffened up like he’d dropped her into a snow bank in mid-January. “You can’t tell anyone where I am. Oh, God, please don’t—”
“No, that’s not what I meant.” Shit. He’d known he would screw this up. Trevor cupped her chin so she’d look him in the eye again. “You ran away, and you had your reasons, and I sure the hell am not going to say you were wrong. But if there’s anyone you need to get a message to. To let them know you’re okay…?”
Becky took a deep breath, her body shaking as she clutched his arms. “I’ve thought about that, and there are some, but until I get my new ID, and everything is straightened out, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Okay.” Which said not everyone where she’d been was horrid—that was good to know. He looked her over carefully. Stupid question number two, coming right up, but he figured it needed to be asked, if she grew up religious. “Did you want to talk to a pastor, or some church people? Like, normal ones?”
Her lips twitched. “You’re trying really hard not to freak out, aren’t you?”
“I’m trying to think of things that will help,” he admitted. “The Coleman clan’s not much for church-going, although my mom and Aunt Marion do a bit. And my mom is like the least scary person on the face of the earth, except when I was fourteen and talked back to her. Then she was damn scary.”
Her amusement lit her face with another of those addictive smiles. “I don’t think I’m going to hell, or something, for running away, but if I feel the urge to discuss God, I’ll remember that.”
“You can talk to me too,” Trevor offered. “I mean, I don’t go to church, but I got taught the golden rule and the rest.”
Becky’s hands rested on his waist, the heat of her palms a small connection between them. “I will, but really, I’m good.”
Trevor found himself nodding, worry rising again. While he didn’t want to discount how bothersome dealing with religious fallout could be, he was more concerned about real physical threats. “I asked you once if you were in danger, and you said no. Anything you want to add to that? Like, I’m not sure why you had to run away. Why couldn’t you simply leave? You’re old enough.”
She hesitated for long enough he figured he’d pushed it too far.
Shit. Trevor hugged her again, trying to ease the tension as he stroked her back. He spoke softly, but he meant every word. “If it’s too soon, forget I asked.”
Her voice was muffled against him. “No one will come after me. I’m being cautious.”
“Makes sense.” He ignored the other unanswered part of his question—why she’d had to run away. It was too soon. He could wait. “I’ll always listen if you need to talk about stuff, but if you want to focus on the future more than the past, I’m good with that
too. I kissed the Becky I’ve gotten to know—the one who crawls out on the roof and goes up ladders even when she’s scared, and the one who wears fancy-ass shirts to work in the garden.”
A gentle laugh escaped her. “They’re from the thrift shop, you know. It’s not like I’m trying to make a fashion statement.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he insisted. “Anybody smart in these parts shops at the thrift shop for clothes to wear, especially for doing dirty chores, but you picked out something fun and happy, and it feels like you. You’re passionate about things. I like that.”
She let out a deep breath. “I want to be passionate about things. I feel like I’m coming out of a fog, and just starting to learn how.”
She’d never had a kiss before—
Trevor’s mind was filled to overload, but he was smart enough not to push it extra far and ask if she was a virgin. Chances were, strict religious parents and all? The answer would be yes.
But then again, she’d said she was broken…
Oh, boy. All his protective instincts shot to the highest level. He’d do his damnedest to keep her from being hurt, even if that meant reining in himself and his overeager libido. Slowing down, here and now. He’d have to let her set the pace—
“Enjoying life is a good thing. And the rest of it…” He shrugged. “We’ll see what happens. I’ve got no agenda other than I like you and want to spend time with you.”
She’d begun to move her fingers again, and the fleeting touch on his torso was driving him crazy. “I like spending time with you, Trevor. I appreciate your help, and if you want to keep doing that, I’d really like to as well.”
“And dating. And doing the things you need to learn. Remember those bits. It’s not just about chores.”
“You might find some of it boring,” she warned.
“And I might find some of it interesting. More interesting than you think. Let’s give it a shot.”
“Does it involve more kissing?” Becky teased, seeming to find her balance.