Wasted Words: Inspired by Jane Austen's Emma (The Austens Book 1)

by Staci Hart

  He stopped in front of me, pressing his hips against the counter between my knees, spreading them apart. His hand found my cheek, and he said softly, “You want me to kiss you right now, Cam?”

  “I…” I breathed, looking up into his eyes, unable to say anything, drunk from the proximity of his lips. But he didn’t wait for me to speak. I think he already knew the answer without me having to say a word.

  He inched closer until his nose trailed up the bridge of mine, his lips so close that I could feel them — every nerve reached for him. If I’d moved a half an inch, our lips would have met, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe as I sat on the counter in my kitchen with Tyler Knight’s hand in my hair, his breath mingling with mine, with nothing to separate us save a few layers of clothes and a gallon of ice cream. And after that long, stretched out moment, he kissed me.

  The moment our lips touched, we both pulled in a long breath through our noses, lungs sipping the air like it was the first time. He was strong, even in something so tender as a kiss, his lips closing over mine, his tongue running across my bottom lip in his mouth, hand guiding my jaw to put my mouth where he wanted it.

  There was no thought other than him as he filled every sense, my brain and body and heart and soul overloaded with Tyler. And everything was blissfully simple, without consequences or questions, no wondering or uncertainty.

  He broke away, but I couldn’t open my eyes, just stayed where I was with my head tilted up to his, lips parted.

  “Wow,” he whispered.

  My lids weighed a thousand pounds, but I pried them open to meet his gaze. “Wait, am I daydreaming?” I asked, not at all kidding.

  He laughed softly, thumb stroking my cheek. “You’ve daydreamed about this?”

  “Maybe.”

  He bent his head, lips on a track to mine. “Me too.”

  He kissed me again, this time deeper, his tongue brushing my lips that parted for him. My arms wound around his neck, and I was so mesmerized by his lips, I barely noticed him move the ice cream out of the way. He slipped his hand into the small of my back, sliding me to him until I was flush against his waist. His arm was strong around me, his free hand in my hair, and my legs curled around his waist, squeezing to bring him closer still. Our lips moved together, tongues circling each other, breaths shallow, hearts hammering.

  I decided then that I could kiss Tyler forever.

  He broke away again, laying a small kiss on my lips, then my cheek as he cupped the back of my head and tucked me into his chest.

  “Wow,” I whispered, unable to form any other coherent thought.

  He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. Even sitting on the counter, my head tucked easily under his chin, since he was basically a giant. A giant and a fairy.

  I laughed, a small sound, my heart filling with the sound of his heart beating under my ear.

  Tyler’s heart.

  Tyler had kissed me. Twice.

  My smile fell as my brain whirred with questions and doubt and curiosity.

  The first question was the easiest. I swallowed, not daring to pull away to see his face. “Why did you kiss me, Tyler?”

  “Because I wanted to.”

  “For how long?”

  “Too long.” His fingers shifted in my hair.

  My heart ached. “Why now?”

  “Because once I knew I wanted to be with you, I had to do something about it, even if you said you thought we weren’t right for each other. I never believed it, you know. I just thought you didn’t want me. Plus, you said you wanted me to kiss you. I don’t think I could have asked for a more obvious sign.”

  I pulled back and looked at him like he’d told me he was from the future. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “What do you mean?” He looked genuinely confused. Beautifully, blissfully unaware.

  “Because you’re… Tyler, you’re so amazing that some days I can’t believe you’re even real. You’re beautiful and kind, loyal, strong. You’re funny and smart and just … you’re the ultimate. And you could have had Adrienne Christie, who’s an actual goddess. You left your date with a goddess and came back here and kissed me.” I shook my head. “It doesn’t make any sense that you’d want me.”

  He stroked my cheek, his dark eyes soft. “Maybe not in your universe, but it makes perfect sense in mine.” He brought his lips to mine again, and I melted like a pat of butter in his arms. When he broke away, he said, “Come here,” and grabbed me around the waist like I was sack of sugar. He carried me to the couch and sat down with me straddled across his lap.

  I looked into his eyes, not entirely certain as to how I’d come to this point and even less certain as to what was next. If it seems too good to be true, it probably is. Maybe he’d only wanted a kiss. Maybe he didn’t want more from me than what he’d taken already. Maybe he just wanted to have sex and get it out of his system before he ditched me. My heart sank at the thought.

  “What happens now?” I asked, trying to breathe through the anxiety, looking into his eyes for answers.

  “What do you want, Cam?”

  “To kiss you again,” I answered quietly, honestly.

  He smiled and pulled me into him again. His sweet lips were against mine, the smell of him in my nose and his solid chest under my palms. Then my fingers cupped his jaw. Then slipped into his hair. His hands found my hips — nearly circling them — and he pulled me down just enough to feel him pressing against me.

  I broke away and peered at him, afraid for the first time since he’d kissed me. “I … I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”

  “I’m not either.”

  I pouted a little.

  He chuckled, brushing my bottom lip with his thumb. “What I mean is that I care about you enough that I want to do this right. This isn’t just … I don’t know. Messing around. Not for me. I don’t want to screw it up by rushing things. You just …” His eyes found my lips. “I didn’t know you could kiss like that. You’ve been holding out on me,” he said with a smile.

  It was my turn to laugh, and the nerves and anxiety slipped away. I felt like I was on a roller coaster, equal parts terrified, elated, and trying not to puke.

  He was still smiling at me, one hand on my hip, the other catching my chin between his thumb and forefinger. The look on his face nearly killed me — it was full of adoration and awe.

  If ever a boy could get a girl knocked up from across a room, it was Tyler Knight.

  “So,” he said, his smile climbing on one side, “besides more kissing — which I can most definitely provide, on demand and at your leisure — how do you want to do this?”

  I thought about it and had zero answers. “I … I don’t know, Tyler. I’ve never done this before.”

  Shock passed across his face. “Wait, you mean … are you a …”

  My entire face was on fire. “A virgin? God, no. I mean,” I scrambled, “I’m not what you’d call super experienced or anything, but I’m not a virgin.”

  Relief was his new expression. “Do you mean boyfriends then?”

  My blush deepened, somehow. “To answer your question, yes, I’ve had boyfriends. I’ve just never lived with anyone I’m dating, and I’ve never dated anyone who was already my friend.”

  “Me neither.”

  “So we’re in uncharted waters. What should we do?”

  “Wing it,” he said definitively.

  I smiled. “Can I kiss you again?”

  “On demand and at your leisure.”

  And I laughed and kissed him until my lips were swollen, sure they’d never get their fill.

  Tyler

  Over the course of a few minutes, kissing Cam became one of my most favorite things in the world.

  I don’t know what it was about it, exactly. I think she could read me just as well as anyone, better than anyone. She anticipated me, knew somehow what I wanted or needed and gave it to me. She gave and gave and gave, her small body pressed against mine, her
hands in my hair as little moans and sighs slipped past her lips.

  I hadn’t kissed a girl so much in one sitting since high school, but I wasn’t frustrated now like I had been then. Instead I savored every second, every moment as it stretched into the next. I kissed her until her mouth was red. I kissed her until she was breathless. I kissed her until we lay stretched out on the couch with her in my arms.

  I don’t know what time it was when she curled into my chest, when her breath slowed as my fingertips traced circles on her back. I knew she was asleep, but I didn’t dare move, lying just like that for a long time, with music playing softly from the kitchen and her small body against mine. I smiled up at the ceiling, happy — deep-down soul happy — for the first time since I couldn’t remember when.

  For most of my life, I’d worn a label. The Good Guy or The Tight End with Promise or Carl Knight’s Son. Always something. Inside of that, I’d always been me. But people wanted those labels to give themselves one of their own. Tyler Knight’s Friend. Girlfriend. Coach.

  But Cam didn’t want my label. She had her own. Truth be told, I think she was afraid of mine.

  I can’t say I blame her. Most of the time, I was too.

  She wasn’t like the other girls I’d dated. She was real and good and true, and she wanted me. I felt more safe with her than any woman I’d ever been with.

  My eyes began to close, but I didn’t want her to have to sleep on the couch with the lights all on. So I turned and slipped an arm underneath her back, then her knees. She half woke up when I stood, picking her up. She was the slightest thing, just a wisp, and I carried her to her dark room, laying her down, tucking her in. I slipped off her glasses and brushed her hair from her face, watching her for a moment before taking a step away.

  Her small hand slipped into mine. “Stay,” she said, her voice rough from disuse. And there was no way I could refuse her, even if I’d wanted to.

  “All right,” I whispered and unbuttoned my shirt, stealing into my room to put on sleep pants. When I came back, she hadn’t moved, and I pulled back the covers to slip in behind her. She shifted until she was pressed against my chest, and I wrapped my arms around her and drifted away to sleep.

  11

  FERTILIZED

  Cam

  I WOKE UP SLOW AND easy, remembering the night before like it had been a dream, smiling to myself at how real it had felt.

  Tyler shifted against me, and my eyes flew open.

  Not a dream.

  It was real.

  He was real, and as I rolled over to face him, I smiled, in awe at the sight of him stretched out in my bed.

  His mouth hung open just a touch, his neck long, dark lashes against his cheeks. I followed the line of his broad shoulder, the curves of his muscles, his bicep. Tricep. Forearm. Just so many muscles. Part of me wanted to peek under the blanket to feast my eyes on the rest of him, but regrettably I stopped myself.

  I didn’t feel creepy watching him sleep, smiling in the morning sunshine at my sleeping giant. Everything felt right. It made sense. He was so … everything. Beautiful. Kind. Smart. Funny. And he kissed me. He kissed me for a long, long time. He held me and slept in my bed, content and happy. Or at least he seemed to be.

  I felt like a princess in a fairy tale. I hoped it was true. Real.

  If it seems too good to be true, it probably is.

  Will filled my thoughts, followed by the old anxiety. It was like a replay of my shame from so long ago, but as I watched Tyler sleep, I reminded myself that things were different now. Tyler wasn’t Will — I knew Tyler, trusted him. And we were adults, not teenagers in high school driven primarily by hormones.

  Tyler was an exception to the rules. So I decided to shut up and go with it until I had a reason not to.

  I didn’t want to wake him, but somebody had to make the coffee, so I slipped out of bed and padded into the kitchen, humming as I set up the coffee machine. While it brewed, I sat down with my book. As many times as I’ve read Mists of Avalon, I never tired of it. In fact, every time I read it, I caught something new. A new line, a new phrase or moment that spoke to me. The tale of King Arthur, the women of the court, the lore of the Druids, the angst and intrigue … it was magnificent, and every time I picked it up, I was immediately immersed.

  I was into my second cup when Tyler shuffled in from my room, shirtless and yawning, hand mussing his hair.

  “Morning,” he said as he approached, stooping to kiss my cheek.

  I nearly swooned. “Morning. Coffee’s made.”

  “Taking care of me again.”

  “Any time.” I closed my book and leaned on the table, watching his back. “Thank you, by the way.”

  “For what?” he asked as he poured a cup.

  “For staying with me last night. For kissing me.”

  He turned, his eyes twinkling. “Thanks for kissing me back.”

  I snorted. “Like I could have refused.”

  “So now it’s out of obligation?” He sat next to me, smirking, and I tried to keep my eyes on his, rather than on his bare chest.

  “To my very womanhood, yes.”

  He took a sip of his coffee, watching me over the edge of the coffee mug with Darth Vader’s mask on it that said Who’s your daddy? “So what time do you want to leave for the game?”

  I glanced at the clock on the wall and did some quick math. “Well, it starts at one, so probably eleven with traffic. We’re riding back with Kyle, right?”

  He nodded. “If that’s okay.”

  “Sure. I’m glad he’s so generous with his tickets. Home side, fifty-yard line? That’s choice.”

  “It is.” He sat back. “Eggs?”

  “Only if there’s bacon.”

  Tyler pushed his chair back and smiled. “There’s always bacon.”

  He moved around the kitchen, gathering supplies, pausing to pick up the abandoned ice cream carton and give me a look as he tossed it in the trash.

  “Hey,” I said, laughing, “it’s not my fault your sexy mouth superseded ice cream preservation.”

  “Oh, that’s definitely your fault.” He smiled crookedly at me, and I picked up my book again, enjoying the moment, though I couldn’t really concentrate on reading with shirtless Tyler making me breakfast.

  Excitement flittered through me at the fact that Tyler and I were actually happening. It was happening, and it was easy and simple and not weird. I mean, it was weird in the way that it was completely unbelievable, but being with Tyler had never been weird.

  I wondered if I’d get to see him naked, and my uterus might have exploded at the prospect.

  “How do you want your eggs?” he asked.

  “Fertilized,” I said, and he laughed over his shoulder at me. I shrugged. “Over medium is good.”

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked as he laid bacon into the pan.

  “I thought I was supposed to be the one asking that question.” I said with a brow up.

  He laughed. “I mean, we just stepped into all of this out of nowhere, and I want to know where you’re at.”

  I nodded, not sure how to answer without gushing. “Well, I’m still in shock, I think. I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around it, even though it feels natural. It feels good. How about you?”

  “Well,” he started as he washed his hands, his eyes down, “I think I’m a little in shock too. I really thought you were going to shoot me down and it was going to get weird.”

  I laughed and shook my head. “You’re crazy.”

  He shrugged and grabbed a kitchen towel, slinging it over his naked shoulder when he’d wiped his hands. “I believed you when you said you said stuff like I was a brother to you.” He raised a brow, smirking “Still feel that way?”

  “Nope.” I popped the ‘p’ and smiled.

  He chuckled, leaning over to kiss me before heading back to the stove to prod the bacon.

  “As for where we’re at — I don’t have a lot of expectations from you or us, not
at this point. Just be honest with me. And bear with me, because I’m crazy.”

  “I’ll always be honest with you, and I already know and love your crazy.”

  “Yeah, but this is going to be a whole new level of crazy.” I thought about telling him about Will, but decided against it. I’d tell him eventually, but not less than twenty-four hours after he kissed me and while he was cooking me breakfast.

  He shot me a smile. “Consider yourself bear-ed with.” He turned back to the skillet to crack the eggs, and I watched his back with wonder, half expecting him to break out in song or for woodland creatures to appear to help him cook.

  His phone chimed with a text, still on the table by the door where he’d left it last night. When he walked over and looked, he sighed.

  “What is it?”

  “Kyle gave the two tickets next to us to twins he’s trying to bang.”

  “Oh, God,” I said with a hint of dread, remembering the last game we went to.

  “Should be interesting.”

  “Hopefully it’s not as intense as last time, that redhead and her friend — the underage one who got trashed?”

  “And subsequently kicked out.”

  I laughed. “You can’t show your boobs to the jumbo camera without consequences.”

  “The best was the look on your face.”

  “Which also ended up on the jumbo camera.”

  “Damn, I wish I’d been able to get to my phone in time to snap that.”

  I shook my head, remembering the embarrassment. “I should have made you sit next to them.”

  He put up his hands — one with a spatula in it — and said, “I mean, it’s not like most guys wouldn’t be thrilled to sit next to a nineteen-year-old drunk girl with an itchy trigger finger on her bra, but I’m glad it was you and not me.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Like I said, you should have seen your face.”

  I chuckled and rolled my eyes, picking up my coffee. “Gee, thanks. Maybe today won’t be so bad. Maybe I can help them take it easy on the booze.”

  “I’ll wish you all the very best of luck with that,” he said as he plated our breakfast.