Something in the Way: A Forbidden Love Saga: The Complete Collection

by Hawkins, Jessica

  He inhaled through his teeth. “You kissed someone else?”

  “Of course I have. Haven’t you?”

  My sarcasm was lost on him. He released my hand to sneak an arm under the blanket, around my back, tightening his hold on me. “Who else have you kissed?”

  A part of me wanted to tell him—and that part was larger than I cared to admit. “I’ve been on dates. I kissed some of them.”

  “How many?”

  “Over the years? I don’t know. I made out with one of Corbin’s frat brothers, and Corbin nearly broke his nose.”

  “What about Corbin?”

  “I kiss him all the time,” I said. I didn’t necessarily want to rub it in Manning’s face, but he asked. He probably deserved to visualize me with others the way I had him so many times with Tiffany. “Usually when I’m drunk or when we’re having a nice time together. I just haven’t been able to take it much further than that.”

  “But you did take it further.”

  I bit my bottom lip. It was maybe more than I needed to share. If I knew Manning, his imagination would be torture enough. “A little,” I said.

  “How little?”

  “I’m not going to say. In one day, you’ve already had more than he ever did. So you should be happy with that.”

  Happy, he was not. His expression remained passive, but I felt the pull of his muscles, saw the tick in his jaw. “What about the night of the wedding?” he asked. “When you were crying. Did he kiss you then?”

  “No.”

  “He’s not going to bother you anymore, is he?” Manning asked. “When I go back to California to sort shit out, he’ll stay away? Hearing about you and him, you and anyone, makes me want to put my fist through a wall, Lake. I know it isn’t fair, but it’s the truth.”

  It was laughable that Manning should have any say over my love life, but it was also a turn-on to see him get annoyed after so many years of getting nothing from him. “He’s my best friend,” I said. “He’s not going anywhere, but I promise you, I will never, ever kiss him again.”

  Manning took my chin, lifting my face to his. “Swear to me you will only kiss one person from now on.”

  “I will only kiss you.”

  “So do it,” he said.

  I did. I never wanted to move from his lap, from his possessive hold on me and even more possessive words. His scruff scratched my lips, but more urgently, his erection had been digging into my thigh since we’d woken up. I pulled on the fly of his slacks until it gave. It took some maneuvering, but I managed to squeeze my hand between us, into his pants.

  “What’re you looking for?” he asked.

  The second I wrapped my hand around him, his neck corded. I moved my fist back and forth over his shaft, my eyes glued to his face as I relished how solid he felt against my palm.

  “I want to watch you,” he said.

  Shielding us with the blanket, I scooted over on his lap enough to lower his zipper and pull him out. My fingers seemed even whiter against his bloated purple head.

  “Your hand looks so good on me, Lake. Feels fucking amazing.”

  Emboldened by his praise, I moved a little faster. “Can you show me how you do it?” I asked.

  He took my wrist and spit into my palm before lowering my hand back to slide it along the length of him. “Fuck.” He let go of me to grasp the metal frame over our heads, shifting underneath me. “The saliva.”

  The way he groaned from his chest and dropped his head back made me squirm along with him. I wanted to know exactly how it felt. I wanted to always have this kind of power over him. He looked as though he’d give me anything I asked for just then. If I’d done this years ago in the truck, could all our heartache have been avoided?

  “More,” he said, grit in his throat.

  More? I moved faster, but his saliva had already dried. I started to wet my hand again but paused. By more, did he mean something else? This was as far as I’d gone with anyone but Manning. When I looked up, he was watching my face, and I had my answer. Manning knew the thoughts running through my mind, and if he wanted me to stop, he’d have told me to. He’d never had any problem telling me no. “Will you let me do more?” I asked.

  He bit down on his bottom lip. “I will let you, yes.”

  I got up and kneeled between his legs. The cold metal stung my kneecaps, but Manning’s legs closed around my shoulders, warming me. He drew the blanket over my back and partly up his lap.

  I took in the sight of him, my heart skipping with momentary doubt. I never would’ve thought to call a penis beautiful, but that was what it was. It stood tall and vertical, pink and veiny, so rigid I wondered if erections could ever be painful. He still wore his pants, but thick, black hair covered him, trailing up to his navel and smattering the tops of his thighs. I wrapped my hand around it first, still fascinated by how thick it was. I put just his head in my mouth. The slightly briny taste surprised me, and I licked around the ridge. When I pulled back, the tip was darker, his veins more pronounced. I ran my thumb over one, following it down his shaft. When I accidentally grazed him with my nail, he hissed.

  I pulled back, realizing I’d been sitting there for a while and hadn’t even done anything yet. I glanced up at him for direction, but all I got was a heavy-lidded stare. “Did that hurt?” I asked.

  “It felt good.”

  “You can tell me what I should do,” I said.

  “I like watching you explore,” he responded.

  I put my hand back on him. There was a raw masculinity about everything from his waist down, including the way he smelled, and I wanted to commit it to memory. I kissed my way along his shaft, keeping my eyes open. I made my way up again, then sat back. My heart pounded. The thing was, I had thought about this so often, and yet had no experience at all, and this was Manning. For a moment, I regretted that I hadn’t used all our time apart to practice, kind of like how my classmates and I rehearsed endlessly for our drama productions in school.

  I didn’t want to hide from him, so I admitted, “I’m a little nervous. Once again, this is a first for me.”

  “Nervous?” He closed his body over me, bringing us face to face. “I’ve memorized everything about your mouth. The curves and lines when you’re happy or sad, confused, nervous, excited. There’s a freckle on your top lip I can only see when I’m close enough. I know the exact spot of your dimples. I could identify your tongue in a lineup. Do you think that I think this mouth can do any wrong? Do you think I haven’t fantasized about it in every way possible? On my mouth, or wrapped around my fingers, or sucking my dick?”

  I gripped one of his thighs when he said dick, overcome by the violent fluttering in my stomach. “That doesn’t help me,” I said. “In fact, it only means I have more to live up to.”

  “Nah. Knowing I’ll be the only one ever inside your mouth . . . watching the way you handle me for the first time . . . I’m making an effort not to come so I can enjoy this. One day, this mouth will know all the ways to send me to the moon but in this moment, you are everything I need.”

  I took a fortifying breath, still nervous, but confident enough now to give it a shot. I burrowed a little deeper into him so his long legs encompassed all of me. He kissed the top of my head and pulled the blanket higher. On my first try, I fit as much of him into my mouth as I could, then let my lips glide over the veins and ridges of him, sucking lightly. Manning’s fingers found my hair, getting firmer until he was guiding me up and down at a quick pace. My jaw soon ached, and it was getting harder and harder to catch a breath, but the taste of him, the look on his face, the feeling of being both subservient and powerful—I’d never experienced anything like it. I felt, finally, like a woman with a man instead of a virgin fumbling through her first time.

  When he stopped me, I was gasping a little. “That’s it?” I asked.

  “No, not quite. I’m going to come.”

  “And? What should I do?”

  “Swallow it if you think you can.”
/>   Everything up until now had been like unwrapping one present to reveal another. If that was what he wanted, I’d do it. I blinked at him a few times, nodding.

  “Good girl.” He urged my head back down so I could finish him, and swallow I did. Not gracefully, but afterward, he cuddled and kissed and praised me, seeming disproportionally satisfied.

  He carried me back inside as one big bundle, through the window and everything. “It was too dark out there,” he said, cradling me. “Next time, I want to see you better.”

  “How?”

  “On the bed. And once I’ve gotten a good look at you, I’ll do it to you at the same time.”

  My eyes surely popped out. “What?”

  He laughed as I blushed and said, “There’s no end to the things we’ll do.” Flexing his arms around me, he brought me in for a kiss.

  “Don’t drop me,” I said.

  “And let you fall?” He sounded incredulous. “No way. You’re light as a feather, Birdy.”

  11

  Lake

  I came up from the subway half expecting Manning not to be there. Before he’d left my apartment in the morning to go back to his hotel and change for a sales call, I’d drawn him a map designating where to meet me later. Then I’d called in sick to work because today was important—I was going to show Manning my New York. And there he was, outside of the Duane Reade, right under the blue pharmacy sign like we’d planned. He had his hands in his coat pockets and a cigarette between his lips.

  Outside the comfort of my apartment, he was real, and he was waiting for me. I couldn’t quite shake the feeling of being sixteen and having no say in when I got to see him. That he’d appear and disappear based on forces I couldn’t control.

  As our eyes met, he made no sign of recognition except for the familiar stare I’d come to expect from him over the years—until I stepped off the curb, and he looked both ways for me.

  I walked up to him and took the cigarette from his lips. He looked at it, almost daring me to take a drag. I dropped it in the snow. “I can’t believe she hasn’t made you quit.”

  “Nobody makes me do anything, Lake.”

  “You almost quit once. For me.”

  “That was a different time.” He nodded at me. “Put your coat on.”

  It hurt that Manning wouldn’t stop smoking for me, if not for himself. It wasn’t an unreasonable request to want him around as long as possible. “What if I won’t kiss you after?” I asked.

  “You said you didn’t mind the taste.”

  I hesitated. I liked the taste, actually, because it reminded me of him. That wasn’t enough of a reason to risk his health. I didn’t want to start a fight, though. I wanted to be in his arms. We weren’t at the point where I felt I could reach out and touch him whenever the urge struck me, so I just stepped close enough to break the barrier of politeness.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked when he stayed where he was.

  “You wasted a good cigarette.”

  I pursed my lips. “Really.”

  “I’ve fought a man for the same thing.”

  “So fight me.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “It’s not because of the cigarette.”

  The cold day started to hit me. I’d taken my coat off on the stuffy subway, but now I was more interested in being warmed by him. “So what’s it about?”

  “We’re in public.”

  It took me a moment to register his meaning. I was the other woman. Except that I wasn’t. I was his, always, from the beginning. Tiffany was the one who’d stolen him away. She was the one who should be kept at arm’s length on the street. “You’re going to hide me away?” I accused.

  “It’ll take some time for me to acclimate.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m used to checking over my shoulder with you.” He removed one hand from his pocket and took the ends of my hair in a loose fist. I thought I could stand up to him, but with that one touch, I wanted to melt. I fought to keep my eyes open. “You never had to be the one to worry about all that,” he continued. “I did. I was older than you. Even now, I feel like people are looking.”

  “Nobody is, Manning. I’m twenty-two.”

  “I couldn’t let my guard down for a second, even after you turned eighteen. Couldn’t get caught staring at you.”

  “I loved when you did. Even though most times I looked at you, you looked away.”

  “I had to. You didn’t think about things like that, because nobody cares if a sixteen-year-old stares at someone older. Not true the other way around, though.”

  Hadn’t I worried I’d be found out? Maybe some part of me had wanted to get caught. I didn’t think about consequences much in those days. Now? I supposed there was the slightest chance someone might recognize us, considering there were people from Orange County who’d moved here. Corbin, for one. Val would never tell, even if she was angry with me. I tried not to show my disappointment, but I needed him to know I was more mature now and could play by his rules. I shivered. “It’s okay. I can wait.”

  He opened his coat and pulled me into it. “I can’t. I’ll just have to get over it.”

  “What if someone sees us?”

  “They won’t.” He rubbed my shoulder, bringing me closer and closer.

  I parted my lips, expecting his, but he only stared. “What’s wrong now?” I asked.

  “I’m remembering your mouth on me last night on the fire escape.”

  Despite the fact that I could see my breath, I warmed at the memory. After all the ways Manning had fought me over the years, I couldn’t believe he’d finally given in. “We can go home and do all that stuff again right now.”

  “No, don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Tempt me, when all I want is to spend a normal day with you. Even being allowed to fantasize about you is a whole new world to me.”

  I quirked an eyebrow at him. “But you did, right? Even if you weren’t allowed?”

  His expression sobered as he squinted over my head a moment, then took my coat. “Do you have a plan for us?” he asked, opening it for me.

  I wasn’t sure why he couldn’t answer that. After all the things we’d said and done the day before, I didn’t believe for a moment he’d never thought about fucking me. Maybe he wouldn’t admit it to others, but to me, it was welcome. I turned to put one arm in my coat and then the other. “Not a plan so much as some places to hit,” I said.

  He turned me around, buttoning up the coat. “Where are we headed?”

  “It’s no fun if I tell you. Let it be a surprise.”

  When he’d finished, my collar nearly choked me. He fixed the lapels, his eyebrows wrinkled. “I don’t like surprises.”

  “I’ll remember that for the future.” I tilted my head up. We were face to face and still hadn’t kissed.

  “Lead the way,” he said.

  “Okay.” I didn’t move.

  “Was there something else?”

  I rolled my lips together. I had, in my mind, made it very clear what I wanted. To ask for it was a completely different thing than hinting at it. It wasn’t some easy thing to just kiss him, considering he towered almost a foot over me. I would have to rise onto the tips of my toes, and I would have to put my heart on the line again. No, it wasn’t easy at all.

  “You can touch or kiss me when you want,” he said. “You don’t have to wait for me.”

  I shifted. For the briefest of moments, I thought—no, I can’t. You don’t belong to me. I would be kissing and touching someone else’s husband.

  Maybe sensing my unrest, Manning put his hands under my jaw, lifting my face to his. I rose onto my tiptoes, and he nuzzled his nose against mine a few slow seconds before Hurricane Manning made landfall. Nothing felt more exhilarating than being whipped into a frenzy by his kiss, but his anxiety about being in public belatedly hit me. It almost felt gratuitous to be intimate outside the privacy of my apartment.

  I ended the kiss but smiled. “
Let’s go while it’s still early. Daylight is precious this time of year.”

  “It’s only noon.”

  “I know. I hope you have comfortable shoes on.”

  We started in the theater district, zigzagging through streets, alleys, and avenues. We’d been here the other night, but this time I pointed out the plays I’d been to, those I still wanted to see, and the ones I’d give my left leg to score a part in.

  “Do you sing and dance?” he asked.

  “I’ve taken lessons for both, and I’m all right on the piano, but I don’t typically try out for musicals, which can be limiting. I like speaking parts, dramas mostly. It’s thrilling to be up in front of all those people.”

  He looked up as we passed Carnegie Hall. “Have you done it a lot?”

  “We had performances in school. Some of my friends are writers and have cast me in small productions. And then there’s auditioning, which is basically baring your soul on a stage so they can judge and reject you.”

  He brought my hand in his pocket, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. “What moron would reject you?”

  I laughed. According to my more experienced peers, the brutality I’d experienced was simply a preview of what was to come. “You’d be surprised.”

  “Have you tried out for any of these?” he asked about the flashing billboards around us.

  Rejection wasn’t the easiest thing to admit when Manning had always known me as a type-A overachiever. “A couple, but I’ve never gotten a callback.”

  “What about other kinds of acting, like in front of a camera?”

  “Some of my friends are interested in that, but most of us, like me, want the stage.” I squeezed closer to Manning to let a dog walker by. I smiled at the fact that his hands and arms were tangled with leashes, yet he seemed in complete control of the five or six pups in his care.

  “Should I be jealous of the guy or the dogs?” Manning asked.