Backlash

by Geneva Lee

  “I’m good.”

  I consider asking him to forget the movie and put his hands all over my body, but manage to bite my tongue. He turns it on, and I try to pay attention, but all I can think about is the way he feels pressed against me, how strong his arms are, how good he smells.

  “I’d love to take you there,” he says.

  I focus on the screen. Paris is gold-tinged in the evening light, and the characters are on a boat somewhere along the Seine, bickering.

  “Paris?” I say dreamily, thinking of walking with him, hand in hand, under the Eiffel Tower.

  “You’ve been there, haven’t you?” he guesses.

  “Yeah, but I think it would be better to go with you.” I think every experience would be better with him at my side.

  “Someday,” he promises, his breath tickling across my ear lobe. A tremor races through me. “Someday, I will give you Paris and London and every dream you’ve ever dreamed.”

  “I only want them if you’re there.” I watch Audrey Hepburn for a moment. It’s not exactly a standard romance. She seems to be spending most of the movie trying to figure out if he’s only after her for money. “Do they fall in love?”

  “I don’t know.” His lips brush my ear. “Do they?”

  Are we still talking about the movie?

  I want to turn into him and discover every unexplored bit I can. But I can’t seem to find the courage. Instead, I sit up and reach for the piece of chocolate cake. There are no forks, so I pinch a piece off and stick in my mouth. The rich, creamy frosting is a balm to my fragile nerves. Apparently, chocolate is the answer to everything, even pre-coitus stage fright.

  “I think the stealing makes it taste better,” I say through a full mouth.

  Sterling chuckles and swipes a bite. “Definitely better.”

  We’re nearly finished with the slice, and I’m eying the brownie when Sterling leans over. “You have frosting… ”

  His thumb swipes over my lip, then he sucks the chocolate off his thumb.

  I nearly choke on a bite. I’m officially jealous of an appendage. I recover and turn my face for his inspection. “Did you get it?”

  “Damn. I missed some.” His hand reaches for me, but this time, he draws my face closer and presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “Hmm. You taste even better than cake.”

  My lips part in expectation and I toss the cake container away. Sterling’s mouth covers my own, his hands gripping both sides of my face. Then, he spins me underneath him and all thoughts of Charade go out the window. He kisses my lips and the curve of my chin, and I do the same to him. Our pace is slow as we explore with our mouths. I tangle my fingers in his hair as he kisses my collarbone, holding him close. It should be like this always.

  Soon, when I start classes in January, I’ll have every excuse to be near him. The challenge will be doing anything but this.

  Because this? It’s all I want. This glorious, full-bodied awareness his touch provokes in me. I want to feel this aching, delicious hunger for his touch, for his kiss. It’s all I want.

  His hand brushes my breast, but he moves it away quickly, no doubt testing where the boundaries remain between us. I respond by sliding my hand under his jeans and grabbing his ass. That ought to get the point across.

  “The bed,” I say, breaking away. I don’t have a lot of expectations about where this goes, but I’m not losing my virginity on a couch.

  He releases me and I stumble to my feet, holding out my hand. He grabs it, but the second he stands up, he drops it. Two strong hands cup my ass and lift me into the air. I respond with a gasp that is quickly quieted by his mouth. I am weightless in his arms. Blood pounds in my ears, matching the beat of my heart and the pulse between my legs. I need him. Only him. Nothing else will do.

  The pull of gravity shifts as he lowers me gently on the bed and sits next to me. I want him to go faster. And slower. Should I lay back on the bed? Or wait for him? Why isn’t he just taking control? He’s the one with all the experience. My hands move down to the button of his jeans.

  “Woah, Lucky,” he says, and a frisson of alarm tenses my whole body. Does he not want this? After everything, is this the part where he breaks my heart?

  “Don’t you… ” I search his face for a clue as to why he’s putting on the brakes.

  “You don’t have to ask. God, I’m going to regret this.” He turns his head away. “If you’re not ready, it’s okay. This probably isn’t like you planned. Not special, I mean.”

  “What?” I say. “I don’t care about that. I want you—no, that’s not right. I need you, Sterling. Like I’ve never needed anything.”

  “Here? In my dingy dorm room?”

  “What’s wrong with it?” I say, meaning it.

  “You deserve a penthouse in Paris. Champagne. There should be—”

  I place my fingertips on his lips. He kisses them.

  “I only want you.” I look into his eyes and for a moment I see a whole world there. “Okay?”

  “You don’t have to ask twice.” He kisses me, resting his forehead against mine. “I’m all in.”

  My hands reach for the hem of his shirt, but he pulls away.

  “Wait.” He twists around and opens a drawer in his bedside table. My breath hitches when he drops a condom on top of it. Sterling turns back to face me. “I thought we better… ”

  “Good idea.” Can he even hear me over how loudly my heart is beating? How is this supposed to go again?

  A kiss.

  I crush my mouth to his, and Sterling’s hand cradles the back of my head, maintaining contact. I reach to pull off his shirt, and he helps this time. Under it, two perfect pecs trail down to the V of his abs. There’s no trace of boyish fat, just hard muscle. As soon as it’s off, his arm hooks around me, lowering me to the bed.

  His hands are on me at once, firm but patient. We kiss, our tongues now exploring along with our mouths. I can’t take it. I need the feel of his skin on mine. I pull off my t-shirt, and Sterling is ready. His left hand undoes the clasp of my bra in one fluid motion as his right squeezes my breast. The flesh there tightens, and I moan in pleasure.

  He peels the bra off of me slowly, drinking in every moment as if he were dying of thirst. He looks up into my eyes and I know, somehow, that it’s to make sure I’m not having second thoughts. I smile shyly, shrinking against the pillow a little.

  Reaching out, he brushes hair away from my shoulders. “You’re perfect.”

  “Kiss me.” It’s not a demand. It’s a wish.

  His answer is to coax me down onto my back. He starts at my ear, nipping and sucking, and slowly works his way to my breasts. When he takes my nipple into his mouth, my hips thrust towards him. I don’t remember that particular reflex being covered in health class. But even if all of this is new, it’s somehow effortless. It just feels… right.

  Sterling won’t let me go. He holds me tightly but leaves me time to breathe. Every time I look at him he is studying me, his face a mask of desire tempered with concern. He pauses at the button to my jeans, and I nod. Taking his time, he draws them off me before tossing them to the ground. He groans when he sees my red panties.

  “I am the luckiest man alive,” he says against my mouth. “But—”

  I still his mouth with a kiss and begin to undo the button of his jeans. His breath catches as I slide my hand beneath his boxers, closing my fist over him.

  “Oh fuck,” he says, releasing a deep sigh.

  His shaft is already large, but as soon as I touch it it begins to grow. He wrenches down his jeans with a sharp tug, and by the time he finishes kicking them off, his hand has slid between my legs.

  He’s gentle at first, rubbing slowly on top of my wet panties. My hips begin to gyrate—I don’t remember telling them to—trying to create more friction. My hand grabs his shaft and I give him a small stroke. I want to make him feel good, too. I just wish I knew whether I was doing it right.

  It takes us a little time to figure out
the give and take. When his hand touches down there, it takes all my focus to keep stroking him. Suddenly I can feel my body shake, and Sterling stops to check on me.

  “You alright?”

  “Yes. God yes,” I say. “It’s just the cold.”

  “Here.” He helps me off the bed, and when he turns around to pull up the covers, I slide my panties off. Somehow, it’s easier to do it when he’s not looking.

  He slides into the bed and holds the covers up like the flap of a tent. “Come here.”

  I climb in quickly, aware that I’m standing in front of him naked. It’s the first time he’s seen my whole body. It’s the first time any guy has seen my whole body. Sterling wastes no time exploring the new territory. A fingertip presses past my seam, centering over the pulse there, and I jolt. Every sensation in my body feels like it’s been turned up. I didn’t know anything could feel like this, and I wonder if it’s always like this, or if it’s just this way with us.

  Sterling takes his time, allowing me to adjust to the new sensations. Then a finger coaxes inside me and he begins to gently massage.

  “Please,” I moan. Ready for more. Ready for him.

  “We need to take it slow,” he whispers. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He rolls on top of me, still watching me like a hawk. I bring my knees up and open as he leans down to kiss my breasts. I hear the foil wrapper on the condom tear, watch him reach down to put it on. He moves between my legs, positioning himself carefully, but then he stops.

  “I love you.”

  His words sink in slowly past the haze in my brain. He loves me. I try to find my voice, but there’s a knot of emotion where it should be. My whole world revolves there on a tiny dorm room bed with a beautiful, broken boy. I’m being swept away to somewhere new—and it’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

  And then I finally find the right words. The ones I’ve been holding back. The ones he’s given me. “I love you.”

  Impossibly, his answering smile is shy, and I realize that this is his first time, too.

  Not with a girl.

  With love.

  He props himself on the same arm that gathers my shoulders. His other hand carefully guiding himself inside me. He watches me, careful but relaxed, as his tip pushes inside me. I feel pressure. Insane pressure. It feels like I’m being split open, and I gasp.

  Sterling freezes, and I clutch his shoulders, worried I’ve done something wrong.

  Stop it. You’re ready. You want this.

  I hook my heels around his waist and try to force him deeper, but he resists.

  “Slowly,” he warns. “It gets easier, but the first time…Just trust me, okay?”

  I bite my lip and nod.

  He slides in more and the pressure increases, a searing pain growing until he begins to move. Each stroke draws a line of pain in its wake, then erases it, until the pain fades to a dull throb. I close my eyes and cling to him.

  Sterling pauses. “You alright, Lucky?”

  “Keep going,” I whisper.

  He begins with slow, steady thrusts. I’m so full of him there doesn’t seem to be room for the air I need to breathe. And always he watches carefully, like he’s holding his needs at arm’s length. Slowly, Sterling destroys me and rebuilds me, until I’m no longer the girl that walked into this room. I’m someone else entirely.

  When his breathing becomes ragged and uneven, he kisses me, and I hold on as his body tenses and spasms.

  “That was amazing.” He says, brushing my lips with his thumb.

  I can tell he’s waiting for me to say something, but I can’t find the part of my brain that speaks. Everything is new and raw and possible.

  “Yuh… yeah,” I fumble, and the only words I can find are the only ones that matter. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  He wraps me in his arms, holding me close as my body shakes. When it quiets, he kisses my neck. “Be right back.”

  Sterling returns with a washcloth and runs it gently between my legs. I sit up on my elbows and spot a crimson stain on the sheets.

  “Oh my God.” I stare at it in horror. “I’m so sorry.” I flop back and cross my arms over my face, willing myself to be invisible.

  “Hey.” He pries them away, but I refuse to open my eyes. “That’s normal. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

  “I wrecked your sheets,” I say.

  “You can buy me new ones for Christmas.”

  I lift one eyelid. “So was I terrible?”

  “Honestly?” He pauses, and I wish the bed would swallow me up. “Nothing has ever felt better than being inside you. I just wish you enjoyed it more.”

  “I did!” For some reason, this sends me shooting up in bed. I grab the sheet to cover up, a little self-conscious. “It was the best. I don’t regret anything.”

  “I mean that I want to make you come,” he says with a laugh at my reaction.

  “Oh,” I say shyly, biting my lip. It turns out that I want that, too. “We could try again.”

  “We will,” he promises, lifting my hand and kissing the inside of my wrist.

  “Now?” I ask hopefully.

  “How about we watch another movie and give your body a minute?” he suggests.

  That makes sense. “So after the movie?”

  His answering laughter echoes in the room. “It’s my fault.”

  “What?” I ask, confused.

  “I did nickname you Lucky.”

  20

  Sterling

  Present Day

  I take longer than I should at the store, picking up ingredients for my date with Adair. She requested neutral territory. I can do that, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to play fair. She wants to know more about where I’ve been the last few years? I’ll show her by highlighting the good bits and glossing over the bad. It’s not the best plan, but it’s all I’ve got.

  “Dinner party?” Percy asks when I step into the elevator with two overstuffed grocery bags.

  “Something like that. I have a date.”

  “Did you learn your lesson?” he asks me seriously.

  I stare at the old man, drawing my eyebrow into a question mark. I can only guess what he’s referring to, given that he sees everything that goes on at Twelve and South.

  “I assume Miss MacLaine was trying to teach you a lesson when she ran off the other day,” he says, shrugging his shoulders.

  “I forgot you were there for that,” I say with a rueful smile. I can only imagine how it looked—or what he saw. I raced after Adair sans clothing in an attempt to stop her, only to spot the elevator doors closing with her inside. It hadn’t occurred to me that Percy was in there, too. “Wait, that’s why you stopped on all those floors going back down,” I realize. “Did she ask you to do that?”

  “A gentleman never tells,” he says, placing a finger on the side of his nose to show I’m right on the money.

  “And a lady wouldn’t ask,” I mutter. Adair is keeping me on my toes. I might enjoy the chase more if I didn’t have other concerns preoccupying me, like the FBI’s golden boy and an overly cautious Russian Bratva hitman being in town.

  “Your new dog walker is quite charming,” Percy changes the subject, perhaps sensing that I’m not exactly happy about his role in aiding Adair’s escape.

  “Thanks, I guess.” I don’t exactly know the girl, but she probably spends as much time with Percy as I do, given Zeus’s walking schedule. “The dog is clearly getting comfortable. He demands two walks a day, but I think he’s just trying to get treats.”

  “He’s a good dog,” Percy confirms. “I think you gave him exactly what he needs to thrive.”

  “What’s that?” I ask as the elevator reaches my floor.

  Percy tilts his head quizzically, as if this is an odd question. “A home, Mr. Ford.”

  “Oh, yeah.” I shake my head like this should have been obvious. To most people, it probably would be. It hadn’t even occurred to me. Yeah, I’d t
aken the dog in and adopted him. I liked to pretend it was out of pity after that dumpster fire of a charity gala, but as I shift the groceries to dig out my keys, I stop and stare at the door to my house.

  My house.

  But more than that, it’s my home. I’m not even sure when it happened, but I’ve put down roots. That wasn’t part of my plan, and yet here I am. The closest thing I’ve ever had to a home was Francie’s place, but even then, something was always missing. And the house I grew up in before foster care? The only label it ever deserved was hell. A strange sensation lingers as I turn the lock and step inside.

  I’m home.

  I carry the grocery bags to the counter and call for Zeus. When I don’t hear his paws skittering on the tile, I check my watch. He shouldn’t be out for a walk now, but maybe Carly’s running late today.

  “Hey, I got you a bone,” I yell, pulling it out of the bag and walking into the living room. “You better not be in my bed or—” My words die on my lips when I see Zeus on the couch, his head in someone’s lap. “He’s not allowed on the couch.”

  “Does he know that?” Sutton asks, flashing me a mischievous grin. “Where’s my bone?”

  I toss it on the ground, and Zeus finally breaks free of my sister’s spell. He jumps to the ground after it. “If I’d known you were coming… not that you go in for that kind of thing.”

  “Never say never.” Her blue eyes flash as she jumps up to greet me. Before I know it, I’m locked into a Sutton-grade hug. Sutton never lets go first. She squeezes extra tight, and she doesn’t give a shit whether you want a hug or not. I pretend to hate them, but really I just don’t know what to do. I don’t have much experience in the hugging department. Unlike me, Sutton received a permanent placement with a wealthy foster family. She’d been young enough to benefit from their stable family environment. She even called her foster parents Mom and Dad. None of that makes her any less of a Ford, in my mind. “I came to rescue you.”

  “I don’t remember needing to be rescued,” I tell her, “but it’s good to see you.”